In less than 160 characters, via Twitter:
K couldn't catch her breath in the car, started vomiting, turning splotchy. I almost had a heart attack. OMG.
Slightly wordier version:
Josh's car broke down on Thursday. We had to have it towed to the car shop and yesterday it was ready to be picked up. KayTar is still quite sick and I had spent the day tracking her ins and outs (there were no outs to track, she went over 24 hours without peeing), giving her feeds that she vomited back up, and trying to control her cough so she could breathe. Honestly, I was a little weary of it all. The infinite sickness, and the perpetual worries about her intake and her lack of urine, and the wheezing and coughing and vomiting and fever. Regardless of the illness, we took Josh to the shop to pick up the car. I dropped him off and the kids and I headed back home.
KayTar had been coughing the entire way there, horrible gasping coughs, one after another, after another, after another. On the way home it was the same, and then, it wasn't. I'm not even sure at this point what order things happened in. I just know there was coughing, vomiting, NOT BREATHING, and the next thing I knew she was turning colors in my rearview mirror. My baby, splotchy and not breathing. I pulled over across a couple of lanes of traffic and just as I stopped, she caught her breath. Then I caught mine. We were less than a minute from home, so I kept driving. I got stuck at one of those left hand turns without a protected signal, so I ran it when it turned red. I figured the cop would be lenient if I told him my kid had stopped breathing. The rest of the way home she was gagging and sputtering, but breathing. We made it home safely and she didn't have another incident like that one.
I've never been scared like that. There have been many scary moments, terrible episodes, even insane lip swelling from an allergic reaction just this week, but none of it measures up to looking in that rearview mirror and seeing my baby suffocating, even if it was only for an instant or two...because what if it hadn't only been for an instant?
Today we're headed back to the pediatrician to get her lungs listened to just to be on the safe side, and I'm definitely adding this to the list of experiences I'd never like to repeat. I was thankful for her stuffy, snoring little nose last night, because every time I stirred it reminded me that she was still there next to me, breathing in and out steadily, just like she always should.