Wednesday, April 27, 2011
He sat on the couch with his blanket and new, favorite dinosaur stuffed animal (whose long, Max-given name I cannot pronounce), watching Glee Encore.
About an hour before he fell backward off that couch, whacking the back of his head on the window sill. I didn't see it happen. I was in the room, occupied with my coffee when I heard the thud. I looked up and saw the light behind the couch moving around a bit. A little voice said, "I'm ok. I'm ok." He says this sometimes when he falls down - that should have been my clue. But I started in with my "mom" voice, "Max, get up. Let's not play behind the couch." His faced poked-up and there were tears. I went over to him as he felt the back of his head. And that's when I saw the gash. Bright red blood in his fine hair. I picked him up, handed him to my dad and grabbed a cold wash cloth for his head. I then ran upstairs to ask my mom to hurry and come look, while I grabbed some hydrogen peroxide.
A few thoughts raced through my head - should I call my mother-in-law (a nurse of 35+ years)? Should I call the doctor? Will the bleeding stop soon? Will he need stitches? How do I put a band-aid on his head with all that hair? (I know, I know - but that thought actually did cross my mind.) And at the same time I felt awful that my first mental reaction was, there he is again doing something he shouldn't do... I didn't think he might be hurt. I didn't actually see it happen.
I felt bad...and I hoped my immediate lack of concern didn't add to his tears and his pain.
There is nothing I want more in my life as a mother than for my child to feel completely accepted by me, his mom. Spills off the back of the couch and all.
My love is unconditional.