As Brent is still funemployed and my work schedule is fairly flexible, we take turns sleeping in on alternate days. (Sleeping in for me means I'm up by 8:30.) This morning was my turn to get up with Em. We did our usual routine of changing her diaper, giving her some milk and breakfast. Then I realized she was dirty, so I took her back into her room, set her on
her changing table.
Em is typically squirmy on her changing table, so we try to distract her with some sort of toy. Her latest obsession is a toy eggplant from her play kitchen. She's inexplicably enamored with it, which is fine by us. This morning it had fallen on the floor, and as I bent over to pick it up, I kept one hand on Em. Our little girl is super fast, and in the blink of an eye she turned and lunged off the table.
Onto the floor.
Onto her face.
I saw it with my own two horrified mommy eyes.
I've never seen anything so heartbreaking. I thought I knew what Mommy Guilt felt like before this morning. I was WRONG.
She started wailing, which was music to my ears as I've heard that an unresponsive child after a fall like that is a bad, bad sign. Also, nothing seemed broken as she clutched onto me and I screamed for Brent. He shot out of bed. I handed Em to him, and I looked her over. It was then I noticed the blood pooling just inside her drooly bottom lip. Brent handed her back to me, disappeared into our bedroom and came out dressed, noting, "We're taking her to the ER to see if she needs stitches."
In my Mommy World, my kidlet's first ER visit shouldn't have happened until she was at least 20.
Brent quickly comforted me, his sobbing wife who allowed our beautiful baby girl to take such an awful tumble. He assured me that it was ok, that Em would be fine.
He changed her dirty diaper and we headed out. By the time we got her into the car, Em was no longer crying. She played with her
gloworm while I dabbed her bloody lip.
We arrived at the nearby ER, thankful there were no other patients there. We checked in and a nurse brought us in to take Em's vitals. I imagine this is a common toddler phenomenon, but Em hates being messed with. Looking in her ears, her eyes, her mouth, taking her temperature, cutting her finger and toenails? She hates it ALL. So she was not happy to arrive at the ER to have a blood pressure thing wrapped around her big toe, nor did she like having her temp taken under her arm.
From there we moved to an exam room, where things moved fairly quickly. A nurse and doc checked Em out, examining her from head to toe with the nature of her fall in mind. Then the doc said Em was going to need a stitch or two in her bottom lip.
As Em is a squirmy toddler, they gave us two options before the procedure. The first was for her to remain laying on my chest, facing out, where I'd help hold her arms down. The other option was to have her restrained via a papoose/swaddle-type set-up with sheets from the neck down. As much as it pained us to go with the latter, the staff advised us that that would likely be the easiest -- and fastest -- for everyone.
So they quickly secured her, numbed her lip and stitched her up. They alternated asking what Em's favorite songs were (for us to sing and soothe her) and assuring Em's sobbing mama that Em wasn't in pain. While it seemed like an eternity from start to finish, it really was no more than a minute. One of the nurses, a parent himself, tried to comfort me with his declaration that as much as parents try to prevent these things, sometimes gravity wins out.
Em was exhausted by the time we left. Not only was she worn out from the accident and her own wailing, but it was past her morning nap time. I sat in the back of our car and sang silly songs to keep her awake until we got home. She smiled while losing the fight against her weighted eyelids, and Brent and I couldn't help but laugh.
She was asleep on Brent's shoulder long before we placed her in her crib. The rest of the day was filled with lots of tv, lots of clear liquids and soft foods, some dancing and giggles from Em, and lots of apologies from me.
Mommy is so sorry she broke you, Em.
Now would be the opportune time to learn to say, "I'd like a pony."
"The central struggle of parenthood is to let our hopes for our children outweigh our fears." - Ellen Goodman