Normally when I write my blog, I try to explain exactly what I was feeling, thinking or experiencing at a particular moment in one of my many adventures with Lucy and Sam. I love writing and sharing these moments with you, plus its great to be able to look back at the posts and remember some of the amazing moments I’ve had since the babies came into my life.
But this blog is different. Trust me, you don’t want to feel, think or experience anything that I did on this particular day. And these are moments I don’t want to remember.
I don’t want to remember the look in Sam’s eyes when he choked on a piece of apple. I don’t want to remember how fast his face turned red, as his tiny body fought to breathe. I don’t want to remember the sound of my hand slamming against his little back as I yelled for him to try to spit it out. I don’t want to remember his tears as he continually vomited, trying to bring it up. I don’t want to remember the sounds of his cries as I rocked him back and forth, trying to convince both of us that it was going to be okay. I don’t want to remember the nurse at the Nurses Hotline telling me to take him to the hospital to get checked out.
I don’t want to remember putting the hospital bracelet around his little ankle when we checked in. I don’t want to remember him in the tiny hospital gown (http://twitpic.com/5au8p2), waiting on the hospital bed. I don’t want to remember holding him while the nurse and doctor checked his vitals and his airways.
I don’t want to remember any of it, except the part when the doctor said Sam was fine and we could go home. That part I’ll remember.
And years from now, I’ll remember Sam’s 19th birthday. That will be the day he has his first beer… and his next slice of apple. Until then, both are off limits for Mr. Sam.
