When seconds count
It had been a normal school morning, kids dawdling and my commands increasingly grouchy. I’d reached the point where Patch, Gleek, and Kiki were all in the car. Link was putting on his coat and I decided to take a second to throw some salt on the icy patch I’d slid on twice. I was in the garage when the screaming started. Parental ears are very good at picking out the different flavors of childhood screams, but like recognizing a voice on the phone, it takes a moment to figure out what you’re hearing. This was full-on shrieking panic from both Gleek and Kiki.
Time stretches in a crisis. In the next 10 seconds I:
Realized that although they were right next to me, they were on the other side of the closed garage door. The fastest route to get there was back through the house.
Wondered who I was going to need to scold because obviously someone had picked on another child.
Wondered if someone had somehow gotten smashed in a door or tangled in a seat belt.
Was met halfway through the house by Gleek shrieking that Patch was choking.
Ran out the front door.
I shouted “What’s wrong?!” uselessly.
Wondered how on earth Patch was choking and what he could possibly be choking on.
Realized that I was still holding the cup of salt.
Realized I was going to need both hands free.
Threw the salt at the icy patch as I ran past.
Tried to find the right balance between speed and not falling on my face.
Reached the car to find Patch and Kiki both crying in panic.
Patch was crying. This meant he could breathe. No heimlich necessary.
The next 5 minutes were spent attending primarily to Patch. He’d accidentally swallowed a hard candy (that I’d no idea he was even eating) and it got lodged in his throat. He panicked, which caused Kiki and Gleek to panic. Kiki had him half out of his seatbelt, ready to give him the heimlich, but she was afraid of hurting him and was not certain how to do it. The candy went down, but not before Patch gagged and threw up on himself. I took all the kids back into the house. The older three stood by while I helped Patch calm down and change clothes. As I was helping Patch, I also talked all the kids through the experience.
I told them that if someone is crying while they choke, that is good news because it means the choker can breathe.
I told them that the heimlich is most effective on cases where breathing is blocked completely.
I told them they had all done exactly right. I thanked Gleek for running to get me. I thanked Kiki for staying with Patch.
I explained about hard candies and why they’re not a good idea for small children.
Then I handed Patch off to Howard. Patch gets to miss school today. He was still too shaken to deal with going. The other three I took to school. We could spend all morning talking and debriefing and decompressing, but that would merely cement this in the kids’ minds as a Huge Traumatic Event. Much better for them if we just deal with the crisis, pass on useful information, and then continue as normal. That is part of Mommy crisis management. I always tamp down my emotional reactions until they won’t increase the upset of the kids. My tears came after the kids were all dropped at school and after I’d come home to find Patch sitting happily next to Howard and playing. That is when I take my time to cry a little and think all of those “what if” thoughts and say a prayer of gratitude that the crisis was minor.
I’m not sure when I learned to shunt my emotions aside as part of crisis management. It is a skill I’m grateful for. Learning to stop and feel those emotions later has been harder to learn. It seems a little silly to collapse after the crisis is over and everyone is already safe. But I guess I’m like Grandpa Smedry in the Alcatraz books. I arrive late to the emotional reaction, but I can’t skip it entirely.
Everyone is fine. And I am grateful for that.