The First Of Many…
Today I experienced another test on my journey as a Mummy, one which scared me quite a bit and made me realise how being a parent is not always going to be plain saliing.
I had popped over to my Mums to write a blog post for my stepdad’s company and Mr E was looking after Mads- this is one of the perks of having a freelance designer as a husband. I had only been gone five minutes when I got a phone call.
‘I think we need to take Mad’s to the doctors- she has banged her head,’ Mr E exclaimed down the phone. This was worrying on two accounts- firstly because she had banged her head obviously and secondly because Mr E is a ‘tough’ nut- he is the type who always thinks I am being a paranoid Mum if I want to take her to the doctors, and he won’t make an appointment himself unless he is literally about to keel over. I had the car so rushed home, it only took me a matter of minutes as my Mum just lives in the next village. I was greeted by Mr E standing at the front door with a very upset little baby who had a massive red and blue egg shaped bruise on her forehead that looked absolutely dreadful. Mr E looked dreadful too I hasten to add, a mixture of shock, worry and guilt I think. We have a very lovely, very expensive solid oak TV stand that is quite low, in fact I wrote about it in my last blog post, and she was crawling and just headbutted it.
It just so happened that my Mum had an appointment at the doctors anyway so we took her down and as soon as we walked in the receptionists were ‘aaahing’ and saying it looked nasty. The nurse came out to give her an ice pack and the receptionist said did she think she needed to see a doctor. I thought they were going to say no but the nurse said it was better to get it checked out while we were there which did nothing to calm my nerves. The doctor saw us straight away, well actually three doctors did, two students and a GP. Mad’s was fine at this point, a little subdued but she soon cheered up when she realised there were now five people chatting to her and she was the centre of attention. The doctor checked her pupils, and made sure she was following with her eyes, before giving us the low down on head injuries which I sort of already knew. Had she knocked herself out? No. Had she been sick? No. Was she fighting sleep? No not really. no more than she normally does in the car. She then explained that children are very resilient and serious head injuries are very rare but to keep a watchful eye over her for a few days. She sent us away with a leaflet on head injuries and a note to come straight back if we were worried about her.
I have been majorly paranoid all day. The heat doesn’t help- obviously she is quite sleepy and lethargic anyway but she has been smiling away at my family when we went round for a BBQ at dinner. But that doesn’t stop me worrying. I already know that I will get up about three times in the night to check on her- I just can’t help it, I worry her little head is so small for such a big lump.
So many people, including my Mum, Stepdad, Doctor’s receptionists, Doctors herself, said to us that we can’t beat ourselves up about it, that accidents happen and that she is going to get many cuts and grazes and lumps and bumps over the course of her childhood. I tweeted about it earlier on, and lots of my lovely twitter friends replied and said that their children had experienced big bumps on the head- including one’s needing stitches and things. I know how common it is, I fell through a glass window and cut my head open when I was two. But that doesn’t stop me feeling dreadful, I hate the fact that my little girl is hurt and I feel like people will be looking at us and thinking that we are bad parent’s. I am permanently worried about her- that is my right as her Mummy, but I hate the fact that this is an extra worry for the next few days.
Below is a picture of my little sleeping lady nursing her war wound. You can’t tell on the photo but it is really swollen and hard 🙁
I know it probably looks worse than it is and I know that she is going to bang her head a lot over the years and I can’t wrap her up in cotton wool- but that doesn’t stop the worry. Please someone tell me that this is normal and that I am not an over paranoid Mummy monster?!