The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 37: Breakfast

~Ben~

This morning, when I woke up, Eleanor was still fast asleep. It was only six, but I was as awake as ever. I don't know many people for whom waking up at six means sleeping in, but I am one of those people. It's what happens when you are so used to waking up at five or even four-thirty every morning. I spent a few minutes just looking at her, wondering if waking her up was worth it. I decided against it when I remembered how late we both fell asleep last night. Last night was Eleanor's third night in a row here and we never went to sleep before eleven. This new habit has caused me to be extremely tired during morning practices, but I didn't mind. I finally had the chance to catch up on lost time with Eleanor and I wasn't going to sleep through it. Early morning practices also meant that I left Eleanor alone with Ophelia every morning, so I decided that, today, I would take care of feeding our daughter breakfast.

I got out of bed at six-thirty when I heard Ophelia giggle through the baby monitor. I picked her up from her crib and went downstairs. I gave her a bottle as I drank my coffee. When we were both done, I tied her up in her stroller and we went for a morning jog. Here we are, 6.5 miles and a shower later. Eleanor still hasn't moved from our bed. I let Ophelia play with her toys in the living room as I cook us breakfast. I decide to go for scrambled eggs since I know Ophelia likes it. Eleanor and I went out to a breakfast restaurant about a month ago and she ordered scrambled eggs for Ophelia and she ate her entire plate, something that doesn't happen often. I break three eggs in a bowl as the frying pan heats up. I put two slices of bread in the toaster while keeping an eye on Ophelia who plays with a stuffed bear. I hear her giggle as she presses the bear to her face.

"You ready to eat, baby?" I ask Ophelia as I pick her up from the floor once the food is ready. She giggles when my hands tickle her sides a little bit. I strap her in her high chair, put the eggs on her plate and let her start playing with her food as I go get the toasts in the toaster. I don't hear anything, which is weird. Ophelia always giggles and makes sounds when she's eating. I hurry and put my toasts in another plate and turn around to check up on her. I freeze. My plate drops on the floor with one big clinging sound.

I must have faced the other way for about a minute. But it was enough. It was enough for Ophelia's face to turn blue and for her eyes to fill with tears. What happens next plays like a movie. I am completely disconnected from reality. I don't hear myself scream Eleanor's name nor do I remember rushing to Ophelia to get her out of her high chair.

"Call 911, she's choking." I have no idea if the words came from my mouth or Eleanor's. I furiously tap on Ophelia's back to try and get the chunk of egg out of her throat. Suddenly, Eleanor grabs Ophelia from my arms to set her on the floor. I faintly see her phone set beside her as she kneels close to Ophelia. The buzzing in my ears is too loud for me to hear what the 911 dispatcher is saying, but I see Eleanor open Ophelia's mouth and check.

"She's not choking, Ben, there's nothing in her mouth." Her cry of my name gets me out of my head. There's no relief in her voice, she sounds hysterical. I join Eleanor on the floor and check for myself. As she said, there's nothing blocking Ophelia's airway.

"Is your daughter allergic to anything?" That's the dispatcher's voice. Eleanor declines and, at the same time, I hear someone knock on the door. I rush to open it, feeling my heart beating in my ears. My brain clouds again as a man pushes me out of the way. About a second later, the first paramedic, the one who pushed me, yells to the other for an EpiPen. The only other thing I can hear is Eleanor crying. The paramedic made her take a step back, but she's still kneeling on the floor, holding her head in her hands. I go kneel beside her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. I take one look at Ophelia and my vision blurs. Her skin is all red and puffy, her eyes are watery, but no tears are coming out, and suddenly it hits me. I did this to her. I put her in this state. I could have killed my daughter. One more minute facing the other way, and this could have been so much worse.