Faceplant

I think there are some moments, as a mom, that are completely unpreventable. These moments, although unpreventable, still cause one to feel like a crappy, negligent mom. Just now, for example. My kid is learning to walk. He took several steps on January 31, then didn't do it again. For 2 1/2 months. My husband and mom believed that he could walk, but that's about it. I even started to doubt it. We'd stand him up and he'd immediately buckle. He's been content to crawl, cruise, and teeter while tentatively holding my hands or the TV stand or the sofa. He'd happily take off running while pushing his toy basket or his push toy. But steps, standing and walking? Never again. I thought maybe my kid was regressing. Getting dumber. It seemed consistent with the trend. He did it with the lights and the trees. At first we'd say, "Baby, where's the light? Can you point to the light?" He'd get a huge smile of his face and point to the light, then we'd clap and cheer and he'd clap and look oh-so-proud. Same with trees. Now when we say, "Baby, can you point to the light? Show mama the light," he gets a big smile on his face and claps his hands with the bliss of an ABB supporter on January 20, 2009 (can't wait to see what StatCounter pulls up from that link). Daycare sent me subtle hints and some not so subtle hints. "Try shoes with harder soles," the suggested one day. I went out and got some shoes with harder soles. "Try shoes with harder soles and more ankle support," the prodded. "Shoes like Stride Rites." I went out that evening and shelled over $80 for two pairs of Stride Rites. A few days later: "Well, L-didn't walk for a long time. And B-wow! It took him FOREVER to learn to walk. He'll get there when he's ready." But I wanted him to be ready then. My baby's retarded, I lamented to coworkers and my husband. I really think he's getting stupider. They rolled their eyes and sighed, as most people do when they are around me and I speak. At the one year check up, the pediatrician asked all of the usual questions about my kid's development. Then he asked about my kid's head size. I went through the same speech I go through at every doctor's appointment, and the pediatrician started muttering, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself, "Well, I don't think we need to be ultrasounding heads just yet, but if he's not walking by his next checkup," and trailed off. My dad-the once a quarter that we see him-theorized a few weeks ago that the baby's not walking due to his head size. "His center of gravity's off, his body can't support that thing." I got angry, but bit my tongue.
So I fretted. Until this week. He's standing on his own. He's dancing on his own, and he's taking several steps on his own. We clap for him when he walks to one of us, pick him up and toss him in the air and give big hugs, but I don't think he's connected it with the walking just yet. He took steps in the living room and on the porch and in the back yard. I felt vindicated that my child would actually be able to hit this developmental milestone soon. And then, after having cleaned him up from his snack of bananas and bunny grahams and Kix, I set him on the other side of the gate and climbed over myself. He stood, looked at me, and took off for the couch. I glipmpsed the camera with my peripheral vision, feeling very smug about soon being able to post videos of my kid's steps. I was going to post them on YouTube. And my blog. And my Facebook page. And my kid's Facebook page. And then I'd email links to the videos and everyone I know would know that my kid can walk. So there.
My kid's steps got a little wobblier the closer he got to the couch. I stood two feet away from him, watching him, telling him he's almost there, and then, thud. A thud louder than my husband's Victorian novels hitting the ground. A thud, then silence, then a scream. He hit the couch with his upper lip. The hard wooden part of the couch, the part right below the cushions, connected with my sweet baby's head, and he was in pain. I ran over to pick him up. My husband came running from the bedroom where he was reading Jane Eyre. My baby cried and screamed and cried and when he threw his head back we saw blood coming out of both sides of his mouth. I don't like to see blood coming from anywhere on my baby. We did the best we could to see where the blood was coming from, and we discerned his top teeth. We couldn't tell if they were loose or misplaced because the baby kept screaming. My husband did the best he could to clean up the blood, and eventually it stopped. My kid was still worked up into a tizzy, so we gave him some Tylenol to help the pain, and once he stopped crying put him down for a nap.
There was nothing I could have done to prevent this. I don't think I could have gotten to him before he stumbled. I wasn't on Facebook or Yahoo or anything else. I was allowing him independence and the freedom to move around unattached to anything except himself. And I know accidents are part of parenting, especially part of parenting active boys. It's not my fault my kid got hurt. But he still got hurt, and it happened on my watch. And that is a pretty crappy feeling, and I suspect it's a feeling that most moms get.