What I never expected

How does a mama recuperate from a serious, almost tragic accident with her baby?

Slowly, and with gratitude.

On New Year's Day, right before Chris was going over to friends' house to deliver some homeopathic remedies for their sick babe, I fell down our wooden stairs while carrying the baby. The worst possible thing I've feared since having the baby was this very event; it seems impossible it even happened, now, just a few days later.

The basic version of this story is this: Walking slowly down the stairs, barefoot, carrying the baby as I do many times every day, I somehow tripped on my toe and lost footing. I wasn't holding the railing because the bannister is on the left and that's where I was carrying Pearl. Immediately as I tripped, my reflex to catch myself made me let go of the baby. She flew from my hands onto the uncarpeted wooden stairs, like a rocket (ah, gravity). Her head hit the first step, bounced down one, hit the next step again with her head, and slid face-forward down the other two or three. The sound of her head hitting the wood still makes my stomach turn horribly. I watched her tiny body bump down the stairs and it was the worst thing I've *ever* witnessed and felt. She looked like a doll, it was so unreal. I could not believe my own child was being flung so fast and so far down hard stairs. It was really like a movie, like someone else's terrifying movie.

Chris was on the phone, Lola was in the living room and saw Pearl skid to a halt after the fall. I shouted, freaked out a second, noticed she wasn't bleeding and rushed to pick her up. We went to sit on the couch where I held and comforted her, both of us crying. Lola was very scared and upset, as were we all. I told Chris to give us all Arnica and Rescue Remedy, which we took. It calmed us all down enough to think clearly about our next steps. My toe was really sore, but Pearl was obviously injured and terrified. We considered seeing our really awesome chiropractor first, as we really hate emergency medicine. Chris called her at her home, and as he was talking I decided we needed to be in the ER instead. So, we packed up for our adventure into hospital land.

It wasn't so bad, being in the ER. Pearl was crying or whimpering all the time, I could comfort her but not console her. She had a few bruises on her forehead, but nothing else I noticed right away. We got her admitted, and the nurse told us our chiro had already called ahead the told them to expect us. We hung out in the ER, the nurse did what I felt was not a terribly thorough check of Pearl's body, and waited for the dr. There was a PA on duty, and she was nice. She respected our desire to know everything, and I know that can be a pain in the butt if you're trying to administer emergency care. We decided to consent to a CT scan for Pearl, and a dose of tylenol. We waited for the medicine, we waited for the CT scan technician, we waited for the test results, we waited for the analysis of those results. So much waiting! But, as we already knew intuitively, there was nothing seriously wrong with Pearl's head. No fractures, concussion, bleeding, nothing. She was just sore and scared and a little bruised.

No real injury. [insert resumed easy breathing here]

Amazing to me, having seen her fall. Having dropped her. A miracle.

I knew then that it was all easy after that. All we had to do was get home, take good care of ourselves. Watch for those signs of head trauma. And go to the chiropractor every day this week to help our whole bodies heal. All she has to show for her adventure is a big bump on her forehead, which we slather with arnica gel twice a day.

I have no lingering fear of the stairs now, believe it or not. I religiously hold the railing going up or down, though. And of course there is the fun watching my bruises turn darker, purple and blue and all the pretty colors of old blood.

Pearl had a few days of cranky, achy, clingy needs but today she is a new baby. A person who has been though something really traumatic and thrived. She knows the world can be scary, but also that we are her comfort. And I tell you, if that's not the thing about parenting most easily forgotten, I'm not sure what is. Tonight, after Lola went to bed, Pearl's delicious, happy laugh while I chewed her belly and tickled her chest with my chin was a gift. Her grabbing my hair and snuggling me as we walk around the house is a gift. She's laughing freely again. Signs and symbols of love, of feeling secure, of feeling loved.
What I never expect, and hold dear when given.