My 9-Year-Old’s Unexpected Seizure Taught Me the Power of Letting Go

I gave up the habit of checking on my children in the middle of the night and listening to the monitor for sounds of life years ago. As they grew, so did my confidence as a mom, and I felt assured their breath was guaranteed. The nightly fears faded, and I learned to trust nothing bad would happen.

I felt secure through the worst days of the pandemic. Not because I didn’t understand the risks, but rather because I remained in control. I wore a mask and kept my children home. We practiced all the safety measures the morning news implored us to follow. We had no underlying conditions threatening to make COVID far more severe.

Yet six months into the pandemic, all the security I’d built over 11 years of parenting came crashing to a halt.

Early one morning, I awoke to what sounded like choking. I reached over and shook my nine-year-old daughter. She didn’t respond. An hour earlier, she’d climbed into our bed distressed after having a nightmare. Now, the nightmare was mine.

Her eyes remain closed as her body convulsed. I thoughts she was choking on the retainer she wore to keep her teeth aligned. I reached in her mouth to remove it and felt nothing. Her tiny chest didn’t move.

“She’s not breathing,” I thought as I wrestled her body upward. I felt her skin. “It’s not cold.” The warmth reassured me. My husband fell asleep watching television in the basement, so he wasn’t next to me to help. I switched…