The scariest few moments...

Last night, I thought Otis was going to die.

He was eating some crackers with tomato and cream cheese, really enjoying them, seated at his new Ikea table and chairs. He suddenly started to cough, then gasp, snorting and choking and screaming when he had enough breath in his body to make a noise. We turned him upside down, we bashed him on the back, and every so often there was a moment of relief, and we'd think he was OK. But it wouldn't end. It felt like years. We tried giving water, we tried scooping bits out of his mouth, we tried to stay calm, but our words to one another were edged with absolute terror.

I was dialling 000 when Phil announced that he was OK. He was shaking, and red, and terrified, there was cream cheese pouring from his nose and his face was wet with tears. The three of us just collapsed in one big hug on the couch, and I cried and cried. I was thinking, "I won't ever complain about him again, I'll never raise my voice, I'll be the perfect mother..."

It was so scary.

This morning, I noticed his eyelids were covered in little red/purple pinpricks, broken blood vessels, the temporary remnants of his efforts to breathe. They reminded me of my face after I gave birth to him. The effort!

I love him so much.