Baby falls off bed, mama loses head
Well, it happened. My sweet girl fell off the bed yesterday.
I brought Baby G into bed with me when Joe left for work for an early morning nursing and cuddle session, as we often do. After we both fell back asleep for another hour, I woke up with the sun and kissed her sweet forehead. She was in a deep, deep sleep. I crept out of bed, happy for the chance to pee in peace. I’d use the bathroom, scoop the little princess up and softly awaken her with kisses and coos.
Except within seconds of sitting down to relieve myself, still in a sleepy fog, I heard the two worst sounds a mother can ever hear.
“THUD” and “WAHHHHHHHHH.”
I stopped my pee midstream (yes, I can still do that, thank you) and RUSHED to the bedroom, where Baby G looked up at me from the floor and gave a louder, more frantic scream than I’d ever heard before.
Before I go on, and before you call the cops on me, I need to say one thing that makes me a teensy bit better than the Worst Mom Ever, and that is that our bed is not on a frame – it’s just a mattress and box spring combo. We’re talking a 23″ drop. And no, I’m not crazy for getting out a tape measurer to find that out. OK, well not entirely crazy. You would do it too.
Her big sweet eyes looked up at me, simultaneously helpless and ticked off, like “HOW WILL I EVER TRUST YOU AGAIN?”
I don’t know, Baby G. I don’t know if I can trust me again either.
I scoured her body for broken bones and held her close. No obvious abrasions! Then I snapped into my favorite mode of dealing with horrible things… Denial! She’s fine, I thought. Just a little rumble tumble!
So I nursed her because she was all wound up and needed a good suck. Then we cuddled on the couch and she agreed that she wouldn’t turn me in to Child Protective Services. Then she said we’d both probably relax if I let her tear up some magazines. So, she crawls off to the magazine rack and I slump off to make my morning cup of coffee. She was happily shredding old New Yorker issues that I insist I’ll “catch up on” someday.
I made a strong pot of coffee and use my favorite mug, because it was that kind of day already and returned to her nest of shredded journalism. And on her forehead, I saw…
A growing purple bruise. EVIDENCE. No denying it now, I had to tell Joe about what happened … and aren’t we going to see the doctor this week? Oh no, oh no, oh no. I wonder, will my concealer work on her?
I spent a good part of the day wondering if I caused her any permanent brain damage. Does she seem to even know who I am? I’m sitting on the floor with her and she’s not even looking up from her magazine carnage.
I googled “baby concussion signs.” No, she’s not vomiting, blood isn’t coming out of her ears. We’re good on that front.
We muddled through the day, me never getting out of my PJs and forgetting to eat until 5:30 p.m., (breaking two of my stay-at-home mom commandments) and her fussing around, needing me at her side.
By some miracle, the bruise had mostly subsided by the evening. Joe played a mean trick on me when he said Baby G seemed to not recognize him when he got home.
I’m choosing to see it as a milestone. We survived our first big tumble.
I’m definitely never leaving her on the bed again.
In blog related news, congrats to Melanie, Kate and Paula for winning last week’s headband giveaway. Thanks to all those who entered!
Also, I wanted to thank Natasha at Epic Mommy Adventures for choosing my post about post-partum recovery as the “best of the best” out of 137 entries at her blog hop last week. I’m honored and looking forward to the free advertising space that comes with the nomination.