Bumps and Bruises

I was reading this blog and am reminded of the times I have managed to maim my child or been there to witness his own baby stunt gone awry and every single time, I come this close to expiring, just falling on the floor and dying from the fear that this is it, my child is crippled/brain damaged/injured for life.

When he was just a couple of months old, I took him to BabiesRUs. I was craving to get out of the house and wanted to feel comfortable in my new mommy-skin. I thought shopping for a bunch of crap I didn’t need was the perfect fix. I navigated through the isles like a juvenile driver on a wet highway with baby tethered to my chest but was triumphant when we both came out of the store unscathed. That is, until I opened the back of the Xterra to unload the booty. I didn’t think about the distance between the door and myself and cleanly whacked my son upside his tiny head with the force of life size Jack In The Box. My heart slid out of my shoes as I raced around to the backseat to untangle my child from the Bjorn and see if his nose, chin or forehead had been completely removed from his face. He was screaming, oh yes he was, and I was shaking with fear and stupidity. I felt like a failed mom. I didn’t see any telltale signs of damage which only concerned me more but after offering up the boob and sitting there for 20 minutes, the shock finally wore off and W fell asleep in my arms. I could’ve sat there the rest of the day. I was too terrified to move.

W’s latest mishap was on the stairs at home. He normally stops at the top of them and ventures down “feet first” as he’s been taught to do. This day, however, his spiritedness got the best of him and he came tumbling down towards me just as I screamed STOP! He toppled down five steps, ears over ass, and landed in one of those break dancing positions where you’re on your head and your back is arched to the sky and held aloft by your toes. He wasn’t hurt but completely spooked. So was I.

He’s also toppled off of the bed but, thankfully, I missed that one and found him on the floor twisted like Stretch Armstrong and with a look of bewilderment and confusion that said, “Umm…how did I get down here?”

I loop crazy scenarios in my mind all of the time of W getting in to some kind of trouble, i.e. wandering out in to the street, falling off of playground toys, consuming something poisonous or choking to death. My heart races as I live the moment in my head and, wow, it’s so real! But it’s not. Today he’s fine and, dammit, I certainly want to keep that way forever but that’s so unrealistic unfortunately.