Adam and I have discussed children since we were dating. How many. What names. Our hopes and dreams for our future fetuses. In May of 2008, we decided that we were prepared to take on parenting and so, Barrett’s journey began. At this time last year, I was round with babe. I was falling in love with pregnancy and our spry little Snowball. Adam and I romantically envisioned the beauty of being parents. We readied the nursery, we stocked up on the goods and we prepared for our peanut. We had our important questions for sure … would we be buying pink or blue … what if someone stole our names … what would we do to make our baby smart? The things we never discussed though were perhaps the most important. Things like what would we do if Baby Brehm was a month early and weighed under 5 pounds … what would we do if he or she wouldn’t ever nap … what would be the course of action if Snowball rolled his/herself right off the changing table, falls to the floor, lands on his/her back and then cries incessantly for nearly a half hour…
Yep. That’s right. Step aside all you other candidates. Because after last Thursday’s events, I am most certainly up for mother of the year.
Barrett’s teething threw us for a loop this last week. Adam was out of town for two nights in the booming metropolis of Topeka, Kansas and so Barrett and I battled the sleep stealer that is teething. Adam left on Wednesday and by Thursday, I was exhausted and ready for a breather {fyi… no relief pitcher exists when you are the owner of the baby}. Barrett’s bottom was red with anger as he pooped out the top of diaper after diaper due to the pool of drool he was producing and sure enough, we found ourselves at his changing table once again at 5:30ish. I removed Barrett’s dirtied duds and and gave them a good spray of Dreft and grabbed a wipe to clean up our babe’s back. As I wiped up the bits up from the blowout, Barrett rolled to his side and what happened next will surely keep all of my friends from letting me ever be alone with their babes. Barrett flew from the changing table to the ground … I tried to get under him … to break his fall …but I failed.
With a thud, Barrett landed on his back and immediately began screaming. I scooped his little naked body up off the floor and tried to quell his cries. I couldn’t believe what I was living! I was a horrible mother and I most definitely had just broken my baby. I clung to B tightly and immediately called Adam. Our conversation went something like this:
{Barrett screaming in the background}
Me: Honey.
Adam: Yes.
Me: Don’t be mad at me.
Adam: Okay…
Me: Barrett rolled off the changing table.
Adam: Okay… is he okay?
Me: I don’t know.
Adam: Okay…
Me: What should I do?
Adam: Is he moving?
Me: I don’t know.
Adam: Are his eyes dilated?
Me: I don’t know. He’s screaming.
Adam: I’d call Dr. Dek’s office and see what they say, or you could take him to urgent care.
Me: Okay. I’ll talk to you in a bit.
I hung up the phone and immediately dialed our doc. After reaching the answering service, I hung up and threw an outfit onto B. I pulled a one-piece outfit over his head, didn’t snap it and snapped him into his carseat. Until this point, I held it together… all the while, Barrett was screaming his head off. I popped his seat in the car and dialed my mom as I headed to the urgent care facility just two minutes from our house. As I talked to my mom on the phone, I began crying. She asked me the same questions… was Barrett crying? Could he move? What did he fall on? And I could barely muster an answer. I was certain I had ruined Barrett’s life and that the authorities would be knocking down my door upon my arrival home. I pulled into the Urgent Care facility, parked in a handicapped parking spot {first time ever} and ran Barrett in. With tears in my eyes and a screaming Barrett in hand, I approached the desk and attempted to explain what happened to the receptionist… only to mutter “changing table. he fell. he rolled and I tried. onto his back. screaming.”. The receptionist replied that she was going to grab a nurse and would be right back. I looked into Barrett’s eyes and heard his continuous cries and the tears continued to roll down my cheeks.
The nurse came out and took us into the back. When the receptionist stated that she needed my insurance card and paperwork filled out the nurse retorted “her baby fell. give her a break. come with me, sweetie.”. This nurse, Sue, was a saint. On the way back to the exam room, she began reassuring me that all parents drop their children and that she had dropped her child out of a shopping cart and the same child tumbled down the stairs as an infant. As is human nature, rather than thinking about how sad it was that this child had taken these tumbles, I felt my guilt subside just a bit, for just a moment. She filled out my paperwork for me and again let me know that it was going to be okay. Sue left the room and the dr. appeared moments later. Thinking back on the conversation we shared, I can’t help but giggle a bit…
{laying Barrett on the exam table}
Dr: So he took a little spill.
Me: He fell from waist high to the floor, yes.
Dr: And Barrett began crying right away? Or did he lose consciousness?
Me: He cried right away.
Dr: And he can move all his limbs, yes?
Me: I wasn’t sure. He was screaming and shaking.
Dr: I’m sure he was scared. And he sensed your tension.
Me: I just didn’t want to take any chances…
Dr: You know, we wouldn’t normally see someone for this because generally people are too ashamed to bring their child in after a fall, a drop or a bump. Babies are resilient creatures. I mean, think about being born… he was contorted and squished through a tiny little space and his body bounced back.
Me: I guess. It’s just, I fell down the stairs while holding him when he was a month old and … oh my gosh… you’re going to call social services aren’t you?
Dr: Is that your carseat?
Me: Yes.
Dr: And you brought Barrett in the carseat?
Me: Yes.
Dr: Parents who beat their kids don’t bring them in a carseat.
Me: Okay.
Dr: He looks great. Give him some tylenol or motrin and watch for anything out of the ordinary. But don’t watch too closely.
Barrett and I left the facility and upon our return home, I took him out of his carseat and snuggled him to my chest. I am that mother who looked away for a moment. And I vowed in that moment I would do my best moving forward to be better.
While he didn’t have a great night of sleep that night, I didn’t mind because at least I knew Barrett was alive. Being a parent is freakin’ scary. Thank goodness other friends have since related their tales of series of unfortunate events to make me feel better. If only I would have known those stories going in, perhaps it would have provided some comfort at the time. But instead, I felt like the scum of the earth for an hour. I suppose that it’s not so bad to have an impromptu performance review to keep even the most successful mother on her toes. So perhaps the Mother of the Year title will not be mine … but as long as I don’t drop him again, 2010 could be my year.
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