The thud heard 'round the world ... Part 2

When Biscuit was 7 months old, he rolled off the bed at my Mama's house. It was truly one of the scariest moments of my life.

But as Biscuit learned to crawl then stand then walk then run, I had to accept the fact that he was going to bite the dust more than a few times. The thing that amazes me is how my physical and emotional reaction has changed in the short three years Biscuit has been alive.

When Biscuit rolled off the bed at Mama's house, I was a wreck for the rest of the day. I don't know what I would've done if my Mama hadn't been there to calm me down and tell me what to do.

But tonight, a friend came over for a visit, and as she was leaving, Biscuit, who was sitting on my bed, ran across the bed to give her a goodbye hug. As he ran back, his feet got tangled in the covers, and down he went. He knocked his head on a wooden step on my side of the bed. It was a terrible-sounding thud, and I was almost afraid to lift him back up and take a look.

Biscuit cried. But I quickly realized that he was crying more from being scared than from being hurt. No skin was broken, and there wasn't even a knot or bump.

A few minutes after my friend had left, I called her to let her know that Biscuit was just fine. I could tell that she was kind of shaken by the whole event.

I explained to her that when Biscuit rolled off of Mama's bed, I was clueless. But now, handling a situation like what happened tonight is straight-out muscle memory.

Scoop him up, give him a once-over. Hug him until he calms down, telling him over and over that everything is okay. Give him another once-over. Put some ice on his head. Hug him some more. Keep him awake for a while, just to make sure he's okay, watching the impact site to see if there's any bruising, bumps or anything else. Did I mention you need to hug him?

Now, I'm not saying that it's easy to see something bad happen to your child. Before you complete the scoop-him-up process, you first have to get past your own reaction. When I heard that thud tonight, my heart jumped, and I felt like someone punched me right in the gut. 

But that's where the muscle memory pays off. The freak-out moment is fleeting because the instincts you've learned to depend on in such a short amount of time just kick into gear telling you what to do.

Sometimes, after the fact, this small, stupid part of your brain reminds you of "WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED!" Sometimes there's guilt. You think there's some way you could've prevented whatever happened. Sometimes there's fear. You think how fragile these little people are and wish you never had to let your baby leave your sight again.

But sometimes, a happy ending comes your way. 

Like your son walks up and says, "Mom, I fall off the bed and hurt my head. And I cry. But then we put ice on my head, and I was really, really better. Now I'm happy."

And if my boy is happy, I'm happy.