Angel was a mere two months old.

Adorable.

Small still – almost preemie-like.

I had just fed her, holding her until she fell asleep.

I set her in the car seat I let her nap in.

Set a blanket over the car seat to shield her from the bright light of my bedroom and settled back to read.

It wasn’t five minutes later.

There was a sound.

One I will never forget.

Choking. Wet. Gurgling.

The blanket was thrown aside and I saw my precious baby twisted and still, eyes wide. Not breathing. Not moving.

We were in the car and flying to the hospital within a minute – no small feat with three kids

That was the day I ran into the ER in tears screaming that my baby stopped breathing.

Never have I seen that ER team move that fast.

Never have I felt the terror of wondering what had happened, fearing the worst.

They feared a seizure and ran tests.

She was in the hospital for 48 hours.

In the end, my baby was okay. We never really knew what happened. Perhaps it was reflux, choking on her own spit up thanks to her dysphagia. No infection was found.

But I will never forget the sound. The sight. The ER visit. The terror.

It helps me remember how lucky I am that she’s here. That they all are.