A heart-stopping moment

We went out for dinner tonight, and my son, now 19 months, was in a merry mood. Hungry, he took to devouring the pieces of chicken I handed to him. Suddenly, he stopped chewing, froze, and coughed just a little. Then silence, and his face turned bright red, his mouth open, his eyes unfocused. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but before I could act or panic, he coughed again, and a piece of chicken came out, along with some vomit that streamed down his shirt and shorts. His face returned to a normal color and he started to cry, with a couple of teardrops remaining just below his eyes. He reached for me as my husband scurried to clean him up as best he could. I only had to comfort him for a moment, and then he was back on task, focused on his food, cheerful again.

Then it was my turn to freeze, realizing what horrible thing had nearly happened. Realizing that for a few moments, my precious, joyful, beloved son couldn't breathe. It was only a second, and his body quickly solved the problem, but for a few moments, he was in danger. We could have lost him.

The fragility, the fear, the soul-gutting love I felt at that moment almost stopped my own breath. I thought of a quote that I'd heard somewhere, that once you become a parent, you spend the rest of your life with your heart walking outside your body. There, sitting next to me, was my heart, with tears and vomit on it, but still merry and beautiful and full of life. But he is so vulnerable, small, and young, and so many things could happen to him, so many dangers. And if something were to happen, I honestly don't know if I could go on. My heart would stop too.

But that's the path we must walk as parents, stepping out into every day knowing this person you love so deeply, so powerfully that it feels like your heart has left your body, could be in danger. That you are tethered, so completely and utterly, to that person's well being, to his survival, to his life. That you can be disintegrated in a moment. It's the deepest vulnerability I've ever felt, to love like this. It hurts.

After the near-choking happened, for several minutes in the restaurant I had a lump in my own throat, partially obstructing my own breath as I fought back tears. Finally, I found myself able to breathe again. My child was safe and OK, laughing at his father's antics and enjoying the bright world around him. All was well.

But my life is forever tied to his life. I was tethered from the moment I first saw his face--and that means I am one breath away from destruction.

And that's the way it will always be.