It was a typical Sunday morning in our house. My husband woke up at 8 a.m., made coffee and went outside to cut the grass. The kids were sleeping and I was sitting in bed reading a magazine. My son, Jacob, woke about ten minutes later, just as I was getting into the good part of an article — typical when you have a 5-year-old. Two minutes later, my 3-year-old daughter, Lindsay, found her way into our bed, as well.
I tickled their stomachs. We had a pillow fight and we laughed and laughed. It became what we call in our house a "cuddle fest." It was the best moment of my week. Little did I know that three hours later, I would experience the worst moment of my life. The Benefits Of Playing With Your Children
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I arrived home from the supermarket around noon. The kids were playing outside. I brought the packages in the house as Jacob and Lindsay ran towards me saying, "Mommy, what did you get me?" "You have to wait until after lunch, my loves," I said. "Oh Mommy," my daughter said, "Can I just have one? Please!"
Since she has me wrapped around her little finger, I agreed and pulled out two candy bars: one for Jacob, and one for my precious little princess. As I began to unpack, the kids were in the family room, eating and playing. My daughter ran into the living room with her candy bar in hand. I said to her, "Don't run with food in your mouth." She said, "Okay Mommy," and stopped running.
I finished unpacking and was sitting at the kitchen island, sorting through all our mail. I suddenly heard little feet walking around the corner into the kitchen. I call out, "Whose little feet are they?" In the next second, Lindsay comes around the corner, stands directly in front of me, looks at me but says nothing. I say, "Lindsay, what's wrong?" and still, I get no response. The next thing I know, she's fallen back onto the floor, her eyes rolled back into her head. She hit her head and went limp.
I jumped out of my seat, screaming in panic, scooped her up and screamed for my husband, who was on the third floor. I screamed so loud that I'm sure they heard me in China. As I scooped Lindsay up, she fell into my arms like a limp rag doll. She was not breathing. I began to cry and scream, "Darrin, she is dying! She is dying!" My husband came running down the steps like a madman. Why Persistent Parenting Pays Off
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I put Lindsay in his arms and screamed, "She is choking! Do something! Save her!" As he scooped her up and ran upstairs, I fell to the floor and just went numb. I was frightened and panic-stricken. My 5-year-old found me in the hallway and comforted me by saying, "It will be okay Mommy. Don't be scared." Ten seconds later, I heard Lindsay crying after my husband had stuck his fingers down her throat and pulled out the piece of the candy bar lodged inside her larynx. I heard my husband saying, "You are okay. You are okay, Daddy's here." Her cries were the best sounds I had ever heard in my life. I ran upstairs and held her so tight.
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