So now that Emma’s birthday party is over (expect a later post on that) I decided that I would go ahead and write about the worst day of my life with Emma.
The morning of June 23rd was a happy one. Gene was home (it was a Sunday) and we had big plans to do some shopping then go to the pool with Holli. Gene showered, I showered, I got Emma dressed, all was going as planned. Once I started to do my hair and make-up, it all went downhill.
I’m sitting at my vanity in our bedroom and I can hear our washing machine in the basement get off-balanced, again, and I call to Gene for him to run down and fix it. He was in the living room playing with Emma. He starts to move her to where I was when I yell “She’ll be fine babe, just hurry up.” So he did. And when he did, he left the basement door open. Can you see where I’m going with this?
I can hear Gene in the basement cussing away as he’s fiddling with the thing, and I’m yelling down to him through the vent to stop. Next thing you know I hear a little thud and screams. I say “Emmmmmmaaaaa, what’s wrong,” as I still sit in the bedroom. Then I pause and notice she sounds far away. My heart sinks. The screams get worse. I get up and head towards the living room thinking “please let her have just bumped her head on the DVD tower or something.” I get into the living room and she’s not there. I round the corner and the basement door is open. I start to panic hoping she just fell onto the landing. I reach the door, but there’s no Emma on the landing. I look to the bottom of the steps and there is Emma at the bottom. Sitting there screaming, staring up at me.
…………… Panic……………
I fly down the stairs screaming “you left the door open” but Gene didn’t hear. I sit on the floor and hold Emma, trying to look her over and console her at the same time. I’m crying and the world is a blur at this point. Gene rounds the corner to find us sitting there and he instantly knows what happened. Next thing you know he’s screaming and a blubbering mess and I can’t think so I rush her upstairs. Gene calms down and makes his way to us and he holds her and apologizes to her over and over again. She finally takes a binky and then she looks like she’s trying to sleep. So, there it was, possible concussion, we’re going to the ER.
SIDE NOTE - Yes, I blamed Gene. I was so mad at him for hours. Even though the last thing he would ever want is for her to get hurt. Ladies, you will blame your hubs too if this happens, and it's normal, but make sure to apologize later. They feel just as bad, or worse.
SIDE NOTE - Yes, I blamed Gene. I was so mad at him for hours. Even though the last thing he would ever want is for her to get hurt. Ladies, you will blame your hubs too if this happens, and it's normal, but make sure to apologize later. They feel just as bad, or worse.
I rode in the backseat with Emma on the way to DePaul. She was acting weird. Not all there. I started panicking more and there was no stopping my sobs. I let her watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on my phone, but she couldn’t have cared less. That right there was a big deal because she is infatuated with cell phones and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
Gene drops me off where the ambulances pull in (he didn’t care at the time) and I rushed Emma in. DePaul was better than I could have imagined for this situation. We were checking in within a minute, and by the time Gene got to us, they were taking us back. Mere minutes. I cried the whole time they asked questions, and took Emma’s pulse, and checked her lungs. She just sat there. Stunned. Out of it. We got back to the room and we no sooner than got her gown on and the doctor came in. As the doctor was checking her over, Emma started to perk up. :-)
They said that she was perfectly fine. She had a bruise on her cheek, a scratch on her nose, and we think she may have had a bloody nose for a second when it happened. I asked a lot of questions about possible brain damage and internal bleeding. I feel bad about it now because it almost seemed like I didn’t believe what the doctor was telling me. I mean, they didn’t even run scans or x-rays.
I accepted their diagnosis (nothing basically) and we waited our two hours (a precaution). Within the two hours, we kept Emma awake and she played and played. We felt so guilty that we let her play with anything she wanted really. Then, next thing you know, in the last ten minutes, she tripped over her own two feet and busted her lip open on the hospital bed. Oy. I did my best to keep her quiet and get her calmed down so that they didn’t call child protective services on us. I felt like we looked like the worst parents on Earth. But, once the bleeding stopped, I gave her a bink and she went to sleep.
They finally released us and we changed her and headed home. No shopping. No pool time. We were ordered to take it easy. Well, after her nap and lunch, she started playing at home and it seemed like she just kept hurting herself. So I suggested we go shopping anyway and we did. Best decision because she stayed in the stroller for well over an hour and in the car seat to and from, so she couldn’t hurt herself.
Yes, I did go to the rained-out Cards game with my Mom that night. Yes, Emma was okay. But I wasn’t. I was walking in a guilt-filled fog all day and night long. I was the worst Mom. How could I let that happen? Why didn’t I just go play with her while her Daddy did something for me? I was feeling as low and one could feel. I questioned parenting. Could I really do this? I bet my parents don’t think I can. Maybe they’re right.
It wasn’t until the next day, when I went to work, that I started to feel better. I opened up to the first person I could (who happens to be Suzy, and she's expecting her first born next month). I had to tell someone. And do you know what they said? It happened to all of them too. Either to them or their kids. WHAT?!?!?! I felt like it was a one-in-a-million occurrence! I’ve never heard anyone talk about it before. Why? Why let the other women out there feel like I did?
So, that’s the real reason for this blog. Not to show you the cute pictures of Emma in her hospital gown. Not to explain my erratic behavior towards protecting Emma now. But to let you know that if it happens to you, you’re not alone.
I took Emma in that Monday (the day after) for a check-up with her doctor. It’s a follow-up really. He said she did great. He said that it happens. He said that it’ll happen again. Ummm, no. I forbid it. They always suggest a “watch and wait” measure. When it happens, don’t panic. Go about your day as [almost] normal and watch for signs of lethargy, vomiting, unsteadiness while walking, and any signs of trauma. When they sleep at night, wake them every 3 hours (we did this too). It’s hard though because it’s your baby. Instinct is to take them in right away in case there is anything wrong.
So, there you have it - the worst day of my life so far. I hope that it never happens again, and I hope that it was the worst thing that will ever happen to Emma. Fingers crossed. Now, for the cute pictures!
