We had a scare last night.
Sacha has been battling a cold, but seems to be mostly over it. He has some coughing spells, but nothing major. Last night, Sacha went to bed without incident, but was awake 30 minutes later, crying. Tony went up to see what was wrong. I soon heard him yelling for me: "Oh God! Hon! Oh God! Oh God!"
I ran upstairs and heard a coughing fit. Tony was in the room, with the lights on, holding a brick-red faced Sacha, who was coughing his little lungs out. He couldn't seem to get his breath. Then, as quickly as it all started, it all quietened, and he laid his head on Tony's shoulder and closed his eyes.
Tony said that when he walked into the room, Sacha was thrashing in his tangled blankets, and then was gasping and wheezing, as though choking. Not knowing what he could be choking on (as his bed is a safe haven), he grabbed him and started patting his back to help him along. That's when I walked in.
We stayed with him until he fell back asleep and tucked him back into bed. I was sufficiently freaked out that I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, listening for every little noise and leaped out of bed at every cough. The fear that I had as a new mother, afraid of SIDS, was back, thinking that my son would stop breathing in the night if I wasn't attentive enough. I had to check his tummy to feel it rise and fall, confirmation of his breathing. I had to stroke his hair and hold his hand, feeling his warmth, for fear that it may leave in a second if I wasn't careful.
I cannot fathom going through what she (and she and she and many others) have gone through.
I am thankful that it was only a scare.