An Exciting Tuesday Night

Tuesday night did not go as planned.

Carrie returned home late from he CPR certification and we settled in to watch an episode of Star Trek: Voyager.

We were about ten minutes in when Shane started making noise on the intercom. I held it up to my hear just in time to hear an all too familiar noise.

I vaulted off the couch. Carrie rushed after me in a panic.

Shane must have swallowed snot wrong. He was draining while we ran outside earlier.

When we got to his room, Shane was gagging. Then the vomiting started.



We hurried Shane into the bathroom and he spent the next eight minutes coughing, gagging, retching and crying.

Carrie asked me to call 911.

I did not.

My instincts told me that it was a case of a kid throwing up. I knew Shane could breathe, because he could cry. I only wanted to call 911 if I thought it was warranted. The idea of calling 911 with a possible false alarm that could prevent someone else from getting the care they need didn't agree with me. (And on a "I'm definitely not a saint" note: I really didn't want a bunch of flashing lights and sirens waking up the neighborhood for a false alarm...)

This did not make Carrie happy. If you've ever seen my wife when she thinks Shane's in trouble, you know that she really, really loves him (and has the protective instincts of a mother bear!).

I tried to calm Carrie down, but I couldn't. She reminded me that she had just gotten certified in CPR, and that what was happening was something to call 911 for.

I caved.

Five minutes later, Shane stopped vomiting. He was happily watching Thomas the Train as I tried to call off the ambulance.

Too bad it was pulling up to the house!

The paramedics gave Shane a quick once over before leaving. Then it was back to bed on new sheets and in new pajamas for him.

Later, Carrie told me "I don't regret calling 911."

My wife is up front: she will do anything she can to protect her son (she's got some strong maternal instincts).

I think Carrie said also something else about me not 'blaming her.' I remember saying back to her "I'm not mad at you; I'm mad at myself for not calming you down."  It's true, too. I should have held off on calling 911, but hindsight is 20/20. Making the call calmed Carrie down, which I think helped calm Shane down, so there is that.

We'll probably get a bill in the mail, but Shane is fine, we talked it out, moved on and our week went on, as well.

It's not one of our prouder moments as parents, but I think it shows how hard (and how lost) many new (and even veteran parents feel at times. You love your kid, you want the best for them, and you're not really sure what to do all the time. Hopefully, you'll be able to laugh about some of our misfires later on. Surviving moments like these help build family bonds if you allow them to.

Parenting is quite the learning experience, but I know Carrie and I have both grown tremendously because of Shane....there's still a ton and a half to figure out though! The kid has grown enough to reach over and unlatch our kitchen half door. The situation changes daily!

Tuesday night did not go as planned, but life goes on!