i can now relate to what my mother must have felt that one day. i was nine months old, and she irreverently sat me on her lap in the front seat as my dad and she drove me "a short distance". i always asked myself what the hell they were thinking. luckily, well, obviously, i did not die when that car impacted my dad's old jalopy. my proof of the war i fought? a big, ole' shiner! the pictures are adorable, i guess you'd say, but the thought of what might have been is something i understand now.
today anaïs choked, right in my arms, and as i patiently tried to dislodge whatever was in her throat, she struggled. i think my heart might have stopped a few times because i lost feeling. my brother in law managed to get it out of her, and can you believe it was a dime? i died a few times today, but i feel more alive knowing that she is alright, asleep in her cot, tossing and turning as usual.
for this experience, i cannot forgive myself or the person who was with her. i cannot forgive myself because exactly a week before today something similar could have happened, and we took precautionary matters, almost to what non-parental individuals would call exaggerated.
now my paranoia has skyrocketed :(
