Breathe.

As I was changing Juliette's poopy diaper last night I was explaining to her that pretty soon she would be using the potty like a big girl, so I wouldn't need to do this for much longer. All of a sudden, she started kicking her legs- narrowly missing planting a foot in the pile of steaming poop. "Juliette! Watch out! Don't put your feet in the poopy diaper!" I reprimanded her. Then I looked up.

Her eyes were bulging, her mouth was open in a silent scream, and she was clutching her throat.
She was choking on her tyrannosaurus rex vitamin.

I used to be a very optimistic person. Then I became a mother, and I became the kind of person who always envisioned the worst. And you wonder how you would react when faced with the worst. You hope never to find out. But here it was- the situation I had been dreading since Juliette's birth. I became two people: at the forefront I was calm and controlled, assessing the situation, figuring out how to get her to stop choking, trying to keep her from panicking. I quickly picked her up and put her on the ground. I mentally envisioned how to position her to do the Heimlich maneuver.

But another part of me, in the back of my head, was screaming, panicked. Remembering the time I choked on a fireball, how scary that was, how Juliette must be feeling. Protesting that I didn't want to have to do the Heimlich maneuver for the first time ever in my life on my own two and a half year old daughter. Lamenting the fact that I never did take that CPR class.

Everything was eerily silent. Juliette couldn't draw breath to scream but she was obviously terrified. I didn't want to scream for Greg's help becuase I didn't want to panic Juliette further, and I didn't want to wake Cosette, who was finally asleep in her room. Time seemed to slow.

Then I heard her draw breath.

She started coughing. Pink frothy vomit came spewing out onto the floor and in the middle of it all was the vitamin. As Juliette started crying, I too began to breathe again. I picked her up and started stroking her hair, trying to calm her. She threw up some more- all over me, all over herself. I stripped her naked and took off my shirt, then as she cried I held her to me. Relief flooded through me. Her little body was warm against my skin, and I could feel the reassuring rising and falling of her chest. I breathed in the smell of her hair, her skin, and a little bit of throw up- and just thanked god that my little miracle was okay.