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The other day I was reading through my blog and realized that it's sort of become a "fairy tale blog", something I never intended for It's a Wonderful Life. While my life is extremely wonderful, it's not as perfect and flawless as I make it out to be. I've always tried to be honest and real with the stuff I write, but lately that rule seems to have taken a back seat to many, "My life is perfect" posts (how did this happen?!)
"I really need to write a real post," I thought as I scrolled through months of sunshiny posts. And then the very next morning it happened:
I injured my baby for the first time ever. Ever!
We were leaving story time at the library and as I turned around to see where one of the other children had gone BAM! THUD! CLUNK! WTF? poor Henry's perfect little head was greeted by the (very heavy) closing door. The crying that followed was ah-mazing. I have never seen H so upset. He cried so loud and hard, he screamed until he was blue in the face, he clenched his toes and fingers until his knuckles were white. Maybe it was because we were in a library, but I swear he cried even louder than when he had his first round of shots.
And people stared! Oh, how they all stared. H kept looking up at me with this fear in his eyes and a quivering lip that said, "Momma, what just happened? Why do I feel so awful?" And there was absolutely nothing I could do but rock him back and forth back and forth whispering, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry", while trying to ignore the glares. We ran out to the car and sat there for a long time, huddled around Henry. We patted his fuzzy, bruised head singing, "It's okay Henry, it's alright. Shhh, shhh, shhh."
I know this probably isn't the last time I accidentally hurt my baby (big old sad face) but god, I hope it doesn't happen again for so long.
Moral of the story: Hurting your baby sucks and the next time you wish for something real to write about you might just get your wish.