When my first daughter was just over 1 yr old, I witnessed what had to be one of the most terrifying moments in my life.
It played out something like this. Piper, 1 yr old at the time, was overly tired and very irritable. She wanted me to hold her and was running to me and tripped. When she tripped she didn’t get hurt but instead got very angry at the injustice of any delay in reaching me. I picked her up right away but she was already crying. It was that kind of cry where they just have one long exhale cry and you’re waiting for them to take their first big breath. So, I’m waiting… and waiting… Then she turned purple. Again, to this point, none of this was uncommon for her. I didn’t realize that not all kids didn’t cry this way. She was my first. How was I suppose to know that not all kids turned purple when crying because they waited so long to take that first inhale? Well, this particular time, I’m waiting for that big inhale-that second half of that first cry. That wheezy, crying inhale never came. Instead, her eyes rolled back, and she went limp and silent. For the next 5 seconds, the entire rest of the world didn’t exist. All I could see and hear was the deafening silence and the image of my limp daughter slowly gaining her color back. Then she opened her eyes.
All I could think was “what happened?” Did she have a seizure?
I examined her to discover she seemed perfectly normal. Her crying had ceased and was replaced by a look of confusion. Within just a few minutes she was back to running around as if nothing happened. I wish I were as resilient. My body was still shaking from the adrenaline. My mind was still trying to absorb what happened. I needed answers. I called my pediatrician to learn that what my daughter just experienced sounded like a syndrome called Breath Holding. I have since learned that breath holding syndrome is a reflex that most often incurs when the child is angry, frustrated, in pain, or afraid. It is an involuntary bodily response. The name breath holding seems a misnomer since that title suggests a willful toddler belligerently holding their breath.
I can assure you, when I see the fear in my child’s eyes as she is crying, back arched, body rigid and can’t seem to breathe, it is anything but voluntary.
Studies suggests that this syndrome most often has an initial onset around 6-18 months and will nearly completely subside by 8 yrs old. Those fragile years in between onset and resolution can be exhausting and terrifying for parents.
My oldest daughter just turned 4 and over the last 3 yrs I’ve witnessed her faint from a breath holding spell several times. The hardest part about this syndrome is nearly every time she cries, she turns purple. Every time she turns purple my body surges with fear and adrenaline as I anticipate a potential loss of consciousness. It’s in this moment as I straddle the edge between her crying potentially carrying on as a normal cry and between her fainting that she feels so incredibly small. I would do almost anything to ensure she doesn’t faint. That’s just being a mom, right? Protecting our children from harm. Except children cry for all sorts of reason. Sometimes she’s crying because she’s mad that I won’t give her something she wants like a second dessert after dinner, or more media. Then the crying starts. Then I see her turn purple. What a dilemma! What do I do? This is what makes it so hard on the parents who have children who breath hold. Ideally we would avoid anything that triggers a breath holding spell.
But how do you avoid anger, frustration, pain or fear?
One of my most challenging aspects of dealing with this was when we had to ride in the car. Piper hated her car seat but riding in the car seat is obviously a non negotiable. So here’s what happens when breath holding meets car seat anger. I’m driving on I-89 when Piper, just over 1 yr old at the time, decides she wants out of her car seat. There is literally nothing I can do short of employing every trick I know to extend car seat contentment: singing, food, new toys. But the anger ensued and the crying began. She cried that one long cry, turned purple and fainted. There I am on the highway, and all I want to do is pick up my lifeless child. And I can’t. Driving in the car was something I rarely did unless absolutely necessary. Because let’s be honest, who can drive safely when your toddler is fainting in the back seat?
Now, Piper is 4 yrs old and I think she has for the most part outgrown these spells. I thought I was in the clear until about 4 months ago when my youngest had her first breath holding spell at 8 months. We’ve only had 2 since, and it just never gets easier. You would think I’d be an expert at this after dealing with it for 4 yrs. I’ll just hang on for the ride and hope it subsides in the next 3 years.
