this life

This blog has evolved for me over time. Conforming to whatever I have needed it to be. A journal, a field book, a soap box, a photo album.

Today, it is a journal for me again. I need this space. So please forgive me for the long winded post and the lactating hormonal mother filled words. I promise to get back to pretty things soon...


Yesterday my precious baby fell. As soon as her head made contact with the tile I heard the most sickening sound. It was like snapping a piece of wood. Panic filled the next few minutes as I held her and she heaped screaming cries and B frantically called the doctor. We waited. For three minutes that stretched on like hours and then decided to take her to the ER.

Once there I ran in, swallowing the huge knot in my throat I spoke through the glass in stutters "M-my baby f-fell and and hit her head." I must have sounded like an idiot, but it was all I could manage to get out.

We were quickly shuffled in. She fell asleep in my lap. The doctor cooed at her and sent her back for a CT scan. Strapped down she screamed and I held her head still. It was torture for us both.

After 3 doctors and one radiologist they determined that her skull was fractured and she needed to be admitted to the children's hospital in the city.

I kissed my other little ones goodbye and with two borrowed diapers and B's cellphone clung to my chest (no diaper bag) I followed the stretcher out to the ambulance.

Once we arrived they stripped her down and did a full skeletal x-ray. 20 x-rays. The room was so cold. She screamed and I stood outside the door smelling her onsie and hurting inside. B called right then and I sobbed into the phone. His calm words assured me that she was okay and we'd have her home soon. They handed her back to me and her tiny fists filled themselves with my hair and her wet check pressed against mine.

Back in the room they cathiderized her (more screaming), they gave her an IV (so much more screaming) and we were finally transferred into the neurology unit of the hospital. I'll never forget the ride through the hallways on that wheelchair. Her wrapped tightly in a blanket staring up into my eyes. There was peace for a few moments.

They disrobed her once more, weighed her, checked for vitals and finally left us alone to settle in for the night. B stayed with us. I will be forever thankful for that. He is my rock. (Thank you thank you to our dear Fergusons for watching our other girls.)

A nurse came in every hour and a half, all night long. I was so happy to see light start to come in through the window and a sweet smile on my baby's face in the morning.

They continued vitals, we saw doctors and nurses. In and out. In and out. She cried, she slept. Finally in the early afternoon they said she could go home to heal.

Home.


We came home. Into a sunny living room, as if nothing had ever happened.


Her sisters squealed and brought her a lap full of toys. She meekly smiled and clung to my hair. I'm not sure if I care for that to ever change...



I sat in her room tonight, rocking her as the sun slowly went down. She fell asleep there, in my arms. Her tiny mouth fell open and her gentle, milky breath poured out over my ears. Heavenly. Her bruised baby hand rested on my cheek.


And for all of us, life just got a little sweeter.