I was talking with a friend this morning who has sons that are quite a bit older than Emma. Her youngest just turned 10. I asked her, already knowing, you never stop worrying about your kids, do you?
She confirmed.
Last night Emma just wasn't herself. She kept waking up screaming and contorting her little body. There could be a million reasons for this ... lack of sleep, hunger, thirst, sore throat, new teeth coming in, etc. But what have I been thinking all morning? Did she somehow swallow one of the balloons that was on the butterfly balloon animal they gave her at daycare?
Like an idiot, I let Emma hold the butterfly as I drove home from daycare yesterday ... all two miles. I never heard a pop, but when I got Emma out of her car seat, I noticed she had pulled the antenna balloon out and I questioned if there had been two. These balloons are at least 12 inches long, so even if she had gotten it in her mouth and tried to swallow it, I would have heard her struggle or I would have heard the balloon pop (I think any way).
The Internet is not helpful. It just makes me feel like the worst mom in the world. I actually called daycare to check on Emma and share my concerns. It's not very likely that anything of the sort happened or even could have, so why do I always go to the worst-case scenario? I asked her daycare provider if she remembered how many balloons made up the animal, but she really couldn't. She kind of calmed my worst fears by talking me through the above rationale. And she assured me they would keep a close eye on Emma.
In all honesty, I am still considering taking her in for an X-ray. Am I crazy? Will I always be the crazy, worrisome mom? I know God is in control and will protect her, but I also know that some children have died from balloon swallowing. It's a hard thing to juggle ... worry, that is.
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