TRAUMATIC Mom-Fails

Memories that Cut Deep, Crying Toddler & Baby Edition

They say that when something bad happens to your kids, it hurts you WAY MORE than your kid(s). At times, I look at my children and see my heart literally roaming about out in the open, two growing pieces of my heart bouncing around for the world to take stabs at, whenever, wherever. Well, no amount of Vitamin B-12 or fish oil could prepare me for the heart attack that comes with seeing them hurt under MY WATCH! Forget the minor cuts and bruises, here are two of my worst moments as a parent - so far - one for each of them.

The Morning of January 6, 2020

Rae’s first tumble down the stairs happened on my watch. I wanted to be angry at my husband for turning back at the last minute to grab something else before heading downstairs with us all, but it happened on my watch. I’m the one who decided to throw some stuff in the wash on my way down, at the same precise moment that our toddler jet past me and propelled her giant head - atop that petit body - down the 16 steps that enabled far too many summersaults.

She was 20 months old at that point, and I was 36 weeks pregnant with Tommy. I was in front of her at first, but my giant, slow, and clumsy body let her squeeze past me, thinking that our cautious girl would wait for me at the top of the stairs like she normally does. However, I did not take into account her momentum as she excitedly approached the stairs, and I did not have the ability to bend down and reach for her. As I watched her plummet head-first, then chased after her rolling body - violently screaming from my suppressed gut, yet failing to stop her fall - I swear I thought I was going to lose them both! Those 16 steps and white handrails made for the longest f-ing flight downstairs, ever, in the shortest amount of time!

By the time I did manage to scoop her up in my arms, at the very bottom of the stairs, she only let out a minute-long cry from the shock, but it was enough to pierce my nerves for eternity. Her neck could have landed the wrong way, her head could’ve banged against the wooden rails, her limbs could’ve been trapped and dislocated from accidentally getting stuck in between those rails, her spine could’ve shattered, soooo many things could’ve gone wrong during that tumble! The only saving grace was that she was not an infant anymore, and the stairs were carpeted.

As she rather quickly started to laugh and play again, I finally felt the tight knot that had formed in my throat, the pain in my overstretched vocal cords, and the veins throbbing around my bulging belly. Phew! No contractions yet. Then I shut myself in the bathroom and ugly-cried, silently, for the next 5 minutes.

That same day, after Rae woke up from her nap and wanted to head downstairs, she approached the top of the stairs with even more caution than she had in the past. After an initial whimper, she waited to hold my hand, so she could then slowly proceed, one foot at a time, counting down those 16 steps.

40 hours later, I gave birth to baby #2...who, as we have discovered, throws caution to the wind ever so whimsically. Needless to say, we have several baby gates in the house now.

The evening of June 30, 2020

The reason why we opted for yoga mats in place of changing stations, and why our toddler sleeps on a mattress on the floor, is because those are the extra precautions we take to prevent our kids from falling off high surfaces. Of course, those falls are inevitable, but did it have to happen to my half-year-old infant, while we were both naked after bath time??

And so begins that overplayed statement: I left him happily cooing on the bed and WALKED AWAY FOR TWO SECONDS (rolled-up sheets on either side, thinking that was secure enough) to grab some clothes from my closet, and “THUD!” I felt my heart stop, and then he started crying that deep-throated cry that pretty much translated into “You f**ked up!” on repeat for the longest 5 minutes.

The number of times I said “sorry” was at a record high that night. After getting him calmed down and put to breast for his nightcap, I frantically started scrolling through the search results for “What to do when 6-month-old falls off the bed” and “How to tell if baby has a concussion.”

The image of him screaming on the bedroom floor - next to the bed frame, on his back, with hands in the air, grasping at nothingness when I ran over from the closet - raced through my mind as I examined every part of his skull for irregularities. I knew he could roll over, but how did he manage to go from the center of our queen-sized bed to the floor so quickly?? Was he doing that floppy-fish thing and back-bended his way over the blankets? If so, he must’ve been one excited and happy camper when that fall spoiled his mood. Ugh…all my fault!

Apparently, most of the time babies are just crying from shock and that’s the best-case scenario, which is all that I could hope for. Then I remembered reading something about it being normal for babies to want to sleep after a fall, but to check and make sure they can be roused. So when he fell asleep on the breast, I deliberately chatted with him to wake him up and check his responses to my various movements.

A few moans and groans later, he looked up at me with those inquisitive eyes and tried to feign a smile. My heart pounded as I examined his reflexes: Please grip my hand! Please follow my side-to-side movements with your eyes! Please don’t vomit! And please talk to me!

After all the poking and prodding, which probably felt like tickles, he flashed me one of his signature smiles - with his tongue slightly sticking out - and I was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. My baby is back and seems to have forgiven me, albeit babbling in a reprimanding tone. And like a hawk, I monitored his every move for the next 24 hours to make sure there was no out-of-the-ordinary behavior.

Of course, in the meantime, leave it to my toddler - who had just started chaining words together and heard the thud from her room - to repeatedly point out “Baby, boom boom from bed!” starting the very next morning. [insert laugh & cry emoji here]

My heart still hurts thinking about these mom-fails, and a part of me still cries a little inside when the incidents replay so vividly from my memory. I know "this stuff happens" and "it could've been much worse," but it doesn't erase the sense of helplessness that cuts deeply into a Mother's heart.