Thank you Stacie!
Saturday afternoon, under my oh so watchful eye, Megan took a header off of the kids plastic picnic table onto our generously soft concrete driveway. Yup. Chasing her water cup, she did a splat, right on her forehead at her hair line.
I was calm. Ran to her, picked her up, noticed two distinct spots, but none bleeding too profusely, and tried to think of everything I knew about head injuries. Is it swelling out, is she vomiting, are her eyes clear?
I could not think clearly so I ran, baby in hand, to my neighbor’s house. Luckily, her windows were open so she heard me coming! She came out, took Megan and I sat down and put my head between my knees. Ready to vomit, in a cold sweat, not able to get the image of my baby falling and smashing her head out of my mind.
My neighbor assessed the situation, giggled at Megan laughing, and determined her a little scraped, but OK. I didn’t vomit – YEA ME – and gathered my girl to take home. Neosporin, milk, and snuggle hugs later, she went down for a nap – which I walked in on at least 50 times to make sure she was breathing – and slept really well.
Except for the really ugly mess on her head, she seemed fine.
But, to be sure, I still asked one more neighbor that evening and even took her to another woman who I knew was a nurse and asked her too. One can never be too sure, right?
Then my little one had to go and throw up later that night, right at bedtime. I could easily have chalked it up to too much milk right before bed, but went into full on panic mode instead. When she fussed until 1am, I let my mind run with it. Needless to say, I got little sleep that night!
The next day came and went and friends saw her, deemed her fine and calmed me down. Until she was up from 3:30 – 4:30 am, dancing around like a lunatic, making my imagination all that more active. But she seemed to return to her normal, accident prone, into everything, ornery self. My worries subsided and I counted myself lucky that she was not seriously hurt. Now to watch her heal and hope it does not scar.
And then, last night, totally against character and reason, she decided to stay up, no kidding, until 4:30 A M! Yes! 4:30 A M! And who, pray tell, was up with her? Not my husband! Moi!
I bet you can’t guess where my mind wandered during those wee hours of the morning. If you guessed that I frantically started googeling head injuries and scaring myself into freak – out – ed – ness, you would be right. She went down at 4:30 am – I am still up.
I called the Doctor, 5 days after the fall, and “rushed” her in. I explained what happened and the Doctor looked at me like I was mad.
“How long ago did this happen?”
She did not just laugh!
Noooo… that is the “your a new mom and you don’t know any better and are just in major panic mode” laugh! The one I heard 4 and a half years ago when I would rush Katie in for a paper cut! But on my 3rd daughter, I don’t deserve the laugh!
Or do I?
I am definitely a new mother to this 18 month old daughter. And, to be honest, parenting a 4, 3,and 1 year old every day, not knowing what to do 75% of the time, and feeling myself through the braille of motherhood does make me feel like I am a new mom. And every day, as they simultaneously age, I enter a new territory I have never been in before.
Sure, I have changed 1000′s of diapers. Wiped a million tears. Snuggled a trillion beautiful love hugs. I can help a stranger calm her screaming baby in the middle of the grocery store and I can proudly claim that I have parenting talents people with no children might not possess.
But, I suppose, I will always be a new mom. I will always have something to learn, a new milestone to celebrate, another daughter to go through it with.
So, I am too a new mom. And I relish in the fact that I always will be!