I was updating Patrick's baby book yesterday afternoon, filling in those two bottom molars he got over Christmas break (oh, yeah, he got the other bottom molar a couple days ago...that makes twelve teeth total now). As I almost always do, I flipped through the pages looking at the pictures and making sure I hadn't missed anything else I could fill out. I found one more line in his list of firsts that remained blank and smiled to myself at how lucky I was that I had yet to fill out his first boo-boo.
Yup, you know what's coming. I jinxed myself. It happened right before dinner last night. Matt's and my dinner had just come out of the oven and was cooling and congealing on the counter. We were sitting in the living room marveling at how well Patrick was cruising down the side of the coffee table. All of a sudden, one of Patrick's feet didn't support him the way we thought it would, and time stopped for a few seconds.
I remember a resounding thump at the same time I saw Patrick's body flop to the ground. His head bounced off the side of the coffee table, and as quickly as I lunged for him, my reaction time was too slow. I swooped him up off the ground just as the realization of what happened hit him and he broke out into the worst ear-piercing screams.
All I could think to do at first was comfort him. I was terrified and I wasn't even sure I had the strength to hold him. I tried to peek around the the front of his head to see where he had hit the table, but I could only see that his whole face and head were red from screaming. I hoped and prayed that it wasn't as bad as it had sounded, and since I couldn't see anything specific wrong, it seemed possible.
Then Matt went white as a sheet. He had seen the spot that actually hit the table. He started gathering what he would need to take to the emergency room with him while I tried again to glimpse Patrick's boo-boo. I seconded the assessment to head to the hospital when I saw that horrible swollen bruise that had already popped up. At this point it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds after the accident. I have no idea how a fist-sized bruise could pop up on Patrick's forehead without some serious damage having been done.
As a last second consideration, Matt decided to call his mom before we left. As a nurse, she would be able to tell us just how crucial it was to see a doctor right away. By the time Matt got her on the line, Patrick was already starting to calm down. He was smiling at Daddy while he was running through the tests Gigi was having us do.
It turned out that it was nothing more than a nasty bump on the head. We never did leave for the emergency room. He was happily playing again in minutes, although Matt and I didn't want to leave his side for the rest of the night. Patrick was crawling over to the coffee table while Matt and I ate dinner (we weren't really hungry by this time but knew we'd better eat just in case Patrick got worse and we still had a trip to the ER in front of us). He pulled up again without hesitation, as though he had already forgotten about his accident. He was picking at the food on my plate, too, even though he had just eaten a little while earlier. I let him. He could have gotten away with anything last night.
Today there's just a nasty bruise above his right eyebrow. He doesn't seem to notice it's there, and the swelling is completely gone. I'm sure this is just the first of many bruises, but I hope none are quite as scary as this one was.
I always assumed I'd feel so guilty the first time Patrick got hurt, but I'm pleased to say I'm really not. I hate that my baby got hurt, but it was bound to happen eventually. I did nothing to cause it, and I really couldn't have done anything to stop it. I was no more than two feet behind him and I couldn't lunge fast enough to prevent the fall. How much closer would I have to stick to keep him from ever getting hurt? How much of his development would I be delaying in my attempts to do so? I suppose we could have moved the coffee table out of here altogether, but it's the best place for him to practice pulling up and cruising. It would have happened somewhere else if it hadn't happened on the coffee table. It's no more to blame than Matt or I am.
I guess this is just one of those milestones that everyone dreads but is bound to happen. It's not worth beating myself up over because it was nothing more than an accident. At least I can be thankful that this time we didn't have to make friends with our local emergency room doctors. I have a feeling with our active boy, though, that will happen sometime in our future.
Yup, you know what's coming. I jinxed myself. It happened right before dinner last night. Matt's and my dinner had just come out of the oven and was cooling and congealing on the counter. We were sitting in the living room marveling at how well Patrick was cruising down the side of the coffee table. All of a sudden, one of Patrick's feet didn't support him the way we thought it would, and time stopped for a few seconds.
I remember a resounding thump at the same time I saw Patrick's body flop to the ground. His head bounced off the side of the coffee table, and as quickly as I lunged for him, my reaction time was too slow. I swooped him up off the ground just as the realization of what happened hit him and he broke out into the worst ear-piercing screams.
All I could think to do at first was comfort him. I was terrified and I wasn't even sure I had the strength to hold him. I tried to peek around the the front of his head to see where he had hit the table, but I could only see that his whole face and head were red from screaming. I hoped and prayed that it wasn't as bad as it had sounded, and since I couldn't see anything specific wrong, it seemed possible.
Then Matt went white as a sheet. He had seen the spot that actually hit the table. He started gathering what he would need to take to the emergency room with him while I tried again to glimpse Patrick's boo-boo. I seconded the assessment to head to the hospital when I saw that horrible swollen bruise that had already popped up. At this point it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds after the accident. I have no idea how a fist-sized bruise could pop up on Patrick's forehead without some serious damage having been done.
As a last second consideration, Matt decided to call his mom before we left. As a nurse, she would be able to tell us just how crucial it was to see a doctor right away. By the time Matt got her on the line, Patrick was already starting to calm down. He was smiling at Daddy while he was running through the tests Gigi was having us do.
It turned out that it was nothing more than a nasty bump on the head. We never did leave for the emergency room. He was happily playing again in minutes, although Matt and I didn't want to leave his side for the rest of the night. Patrick was crawling over to the coffee table while Matt and I ate dinner (we weren't really hungry by this time but knew we'd better eat just in case Patrick got worse and we still had a trip to the ER in front of us). He pulled up again without hesitation, as though he had already forgotten about his accident. He was picking at the food on my plate, too, even though he had just eaten a little while earlier. I let him. He could have gotten away with anything last night.
Today there's just a nasty bruise above his right eyebrow. He doesn't seem to notice it's there, and the swelling is completely gone. I'm sure this is just the first of many bruises, but I hope none are quite as scary as this one was.
I always assumed I'd feel so guilty the first time Patrick got hurt, but I'm pleased to say I'm really not. I hate that my baby got hurt, but it was bound to happen eventually. I did nothing to cause it, and I really couldn't have done anything to stop it. I was no more than two feet behind him and I couldn't lunge fast enough to prevent the fall. How much closer would I have to stick to keep him from ever getting hurt? How much of his development would I be delaying in my attempts to do so? I suppose we could have moved the coffee table out of here altogether, but it's the best place for him to practice pulling up and cruising. It would have happened somewhere else if it hadn't happened on the coffee table. It's no more to blame than Matt or I am.
I guess this is just one of those milestones that everyone dreads but is bound to happen. It's not worth beating myself up over because it was nothing more than an accident. At least I can be thankful that this time we didn't have to make friends with our local emergency room doctors. I have a feeling with our active boy, though, that will happen sometime in our future.
Labels: Feelings, Milestones
1 Comments:
Those darn coffee tables...when Tanner started walking we actually took ours out of the room because he hit himself. The next time he hits his head, as long as he screams and the bump comes out he should be fine. We had our first expiriance with that when Tanner decided to head dive out of a shopping cart. But our pedi said as long as he screamed right away...he should be fine. I'm so glad Patrick is okay. I hope you and your husband are recovering too.
Post a Comment
<< Home