Two incidents:
Yesterday when I was bringing E home from PMO, after I pulled into the carport, he was messing around and refusing to get out of the car. He would run to one side of the back seat and then the other, evading me as I tried to get him out of the car. Then when I finally did get him out, I picked up his diaper bag and shoes (which he has inevitably removed and dropped to the floorboard of the car) and turned around to close the door. Meanwhile he has decided to get back into the backseat. I don’t see him run towards the car, and I start shutting the car door. He runs right into it, and it hits him squarely on the forehead. He is stunned for a minute and then starts screaming. I was panicked as soon as I felt the door hit him in his head. I totally flashed back to last summer and having to call 911 when he fell down the back porch steps and got a hole in his forehead. I picked him up, ran inside and laid him out flat on the floor. Immediately it began to swell, turning purple and blue. I nearly passed out just from looking at it. I called T and said, please come home, E’s hurt his head. There wasn’t any blood, although there was a cut/indention that turned red as if blood had pooled underneath it. It got to the size of my thumb. I gave him some children’s Tylenol, and he took a 2-hour nap.
This afternoon E comes into the den crying. I see the blood coming from his mouth. Fortunately T is already home. I get a wet washcloth and immediately start swabbing at his mouth. I can’t tell if it is his teeth or what. I’m terrified he’s going to knock a tooth out (not sure why that is a particular fear, but it is). I get T to take over holding the washcloth and go to get another one because the blood just keeps coming. Before I can get back over to him, I have to lie down on the kitchen floor so I don’t fall over. My stomach turns, and I think I’m going to throw up. I manage to get up and get the new washcloth back over to E. We establish that he just fell, in the hallway, maybe hit the wall, not totally sure. Oh geez the blood won’t stop. Anyway, I just hold him and let T blot out the blood. Finally we think he just busted his lip but good. No teeth loose, no teeth through a lip, just a cut lip. I am sitting on the hearth with my head between my legs, trying not to pass out. He starts refusing the washcloth, preferring to keep his little fist in his mouth instead. Then he cheers up considerably when I tell him he can watch a movie before dinner.
Why is it that I can handle having my period (a grossness in and of itself) and watching a friend give birth (I was her doula nearly a year ago) and hell, give birth twice myself without drugs, watching the whole process (well, from my end of things) and I still get woozy when it comes to my kids getting hurt?!? I always had a weak stomach growing up, but I thought I had kind of gotten beyond all that. Guess not. I think it is the combination of the blood, the not-knowing what has happened, and the fact that my child is hurting and I can’t fix it that gets me so much. I don’t think I’m going to survive being the mother of an accident-prone little boy.
Posted by journeymom 