Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The First Time My Heart Stopped

Nothing is scarier than having your child injure himself. Your heart jumping into your throat and beating furiously as you attempt to breathe and calm your child. How can you possibly calm anyone down when you can't even take a breath without your entire body shaking? I know this feeling because I had this feeling 5 days ago. 5 days ago I swear my world stood still for a whole 2 minutes. Standing still isn't even the correct description. More like the world stopped on a dime and started to spiral down the drain of life's sewer. Taking all hope and ripping it out of your body through your stomach as it twists and turns and wrenches the last bit of lining from your stomach. I exaggerate you say, but it felt exactly like this when Kells fell down the stairs.
Kells had mastered the stairs, or so I had thought. Many times I watched him as he raced up the stairs like a professional carpet climber. Hand, hand, knee, knee, repeat. When he'd reached sufficient height he'd kick out his legs and slide down on his stomach, giggling the whole time. I was nervous at first. What mother wouldn't be? But as time progressed and he got more comfortable with them the less I worried. I should have known it was coming but for some reason I was naive and figured it would never happen. That my one year old child had the coordination to stop himself from gravity's pull if he lost his balance on the stairs. The thudding of his little body as he tumbles was comparable to the thunder of a heard of elephants coming through my walls. That's the feeling I had. I was being trampled as my child was falling to his death. As I flew around the bannister and heard him wail and then watched him fall the last 3 stairs into his father's arms, I swear to you I have never been so fearful in my life. Of course as I look back now it's a little ridiculous because he wasn't hurt but the thought of it was excruciating. No broken bones, concussions or blood. He got out of my arms in less than 60 seconds and tottled back up the stairs with not a care in the world but you can bet Mom is always listening for when he mounts the stairs that couldn't keep him down. Is it weird that there is a welling of pride in me as he jumps back onto the obsticles that knock him down?