Ambergontrail – Trying to get through life without dying of dysentery

As a kid, I remember camping trips, long drives in the cab of our pickup truck- oh so anxious to finally stop so I can climb into the camper at the back. Sleeping on a bed transformed from a table was such a novelty. I remember the scent of the Sleepytime tea I’d drink to get myself to fall asleep after we arrived at our destination.

I remember sleepovers at my cousin’s house- having my name made out of Bisquick pancake batter,  sometimes flavored with mint or strawberry extract. Memories of afterschool activities spent at Grandma’s house; selling plums from her tree to construction workers with my cousin, Ellen, making our own “perfume” from rose lotion, petals and water to sell. Saving money in a Nescafe jar to buy Grandma a present, but spending it on candy an hour after we started saving.

Making time capsules from the aforementioned Nescafe jar (man, my grandma had a lot of these), in which we put letters and pictures and packs of sour apple bubble yum.

Grandma had a tradition- a tin of Almond Roca candy opened at every Christmas. After she passed on (mere days before Christmas 1996), the tradition remained, but the luster had dulled. The race to grab one and eat it as soon as possible had ceased, but still… the tin stays there, almost as if by bringing the candies back every year, we’re somehow ensuring Grandma is there with us. Watching her great-grandchildren tumbling on the carpet, reaching for her grandchildren- now parents themselves.

Last Christmas, my first as a parent, while it was hectic for me, I tried to sit back on the bench with my cousin Amy- who is the same age as my brother (3 years older than Ellen and I) and survey our family. Paul was holding Piper and another baby (I believe it was Danny, a second cousin), and I had to hold back tears because I thought yet again, how much Grandma would love this.

When you come from a home that has a lot of bad memories mingled in with the good, you have to treasure the good ones even more so they can help block the bad ones from sullying your memories completely.

While I know that every relationship and family has its ups and downs, I hope Piper never has the kind of bad memories I have from my life.

If I could choose the kinds of memories for Piper to keep, I’d want her to remember her daddy getting her from her crib every morning- saying hello to her “friends” (a framed picture of Mickey and Minnie Mouse). I’d want her to remember her baths, and the fun she has with Woofie. The morning cuddles that have turned into morning tumbles and smacks.

In the future, I hope she’ll remember Disneyland, and playing with her cousins, Mommy making pancakes with blueberries, cupcakes with funfetti frosting, and her first Daisy scout meeting. I hope she’ll remember selling Girl Scout cookies, and her first campout. I can’t WAIT until we can share the first toasted marshmallow over a fire, and her first dip into the ocean.

I hope Piper will have memories of the laughter that rolled through our house all the time, and the tickles, and kisses her parents shared. I hope Piper remembers the most used word in our house is “love” and hopefully not “No”.

I can’t wait until she has memories of making Mommy or Daddy breakfast all by herself, and when she gets her first call from a boy. I’m looking forward to her first “real” valentine- not the kind your teacher makes you give to every student in class.

I guess you can say that I’m hoping for memories through hers- I am a mother now, can you believe it? My daughter’s memories will be mine, just from outside.

School is back in session, which means Paul is back at work. This also means the three of us are back to waking up in the 6am hour, and getting to work at 7am. Honestly, aside from the waking up while it’s still dark thing, I enjoy it. In the morning, I get my work done by 7:30 at the latest. After that, it’s time for Piper and I to take a walk.

If I’m feeling frivolous, I’ll pop down to Starbucks on our way out for a salted caramel hot chocolate (you guys need to try this, it is WONDERFUL).  Lately, the mornings have been damp and with a chill- not at all like the summer mornings I remember! Piper is in her stroller, with her blanket up to her chin, fingers in her mouth while I’m in a hoodie and trying to keep warm (and dry).

When we begin the walk things change for me. I’m not an employee taking the office distraction out to fall asleep so I can get some personal work done. No, I become one of them: the non-working moms. The mom who can take her baby out for a leisurely stroll and not have to be worried about time constraints . No, I blend in. Instead of people assuming I’m the nanny at our noontime walk, they think I’m the Mommy, which I am.

The residential neighborhood bordering my work is idyllic. Every house is different and gorgeous, and for that half hour every morning I can pretend I live in one of them. People getting into their cars to go to work nod their heads at me and say, “Good Morning!” To them, I’m just a neighbor out for a walk with her daughter. I try to become that, sniffing the roses as I walk past, imagining our house is the one with the little pushcar in the front for Piper to enjoy.

I nod back at the residents, silently complimenting houses for having a very neat front yard, or a funny bumper sticker. I glide along, already knowing where the uneven sidewalk hits, and coo at Piper while she begins to nod off.

Our favorite season is almost here, Fall. We started dating in the fall (both times), got engaged in the fall, and got married in the fall. My birthday falls on November 5th, and now our daughter’s birthday is in November as well. We spent many years at Disneyland enjoying the decorations Fall brings, as well as long walks with Woofie at Mar Vista Park, the leaves turning golden as they tend to do. We spend the month of October watching scary movies, and planning costumes. We buy apple cider and grab a blanket to cozy up on the couch with. There is pumpkin carving, and buying of candy- even though we never get trick or treaters. This year, there will be trick or treating for Piper- a new tradition.

The morning air smells like Fall, and it thrills me. I can’t wait to share our traditions and create new ones with our girl. Even if it means I have to pretend to have another life every morning in order to experience it when not at work.

Piper is 9 months old. I can’t post her stats because A.) We don’t have a scale, B.) She didn’t have a 9 month old appointment. I was thinking recently that I still vividly remember the first few months of her life, as I haven’t yet been hit with Momnesia.

What is Momnesia? Well, from a few encounters with other moms (not all my friends, just a few random mommies), it appears some mothers forget how rough the first few months can be. Whether or not you have a “good baby” (wink wink, Kimberly Michelle!), bringing home a newborn is HARD. You’re starting from scratch- everything from nursing to bathing to functioning with an infant constantly in your arms. You’re learning how to work as a new family- this little person you’ve brought home has completely changed your priorities.

The thing is… a lot of the competitive moms (as evidenced by their habitual use of, “Oh, your baby is still XXX? Mine hasn’t done that since she was an infant!”) seem to forget that. Their babies slept through the night at 4 weeks (“Sleeping through the night” is technically 5 solid hours, but many think something like 8/9-6a is STTN like we do), yours didn’t? Their babies were reaching for them at a month. Their babies were smiling at 2 weeks- it wasn’t gas- it was smiling. It’s painful, really, to be on the receiving end of this.

Despite how well you know all babies mature at different rates (your baby could crawl early, but walk late, big deal!), you can’t help but feel like she’s putting you down. Then, insult upon injury, they say, “I’m sure your little girl will do it eventually, I wouldn’t worry”. Um, up to you saying something,  I hadn’t even thought about it, but thanks.

As I said before, I remember vividly every moment of Piper’s first six weeks. I remember bringing her home, and sitting there holding her as Paul went to my Dad’s house to get Woofie. I remember looking around, terrified to put her down. I crept to the bassinet and gently placed her in it, surrounded by white cloudy bunting, angelic. I also remember the noise that came from our baby then. Luckily (?) for us, Piper has never been a big crier, since birth she’s been more of a complainer- with grunts and whines used to convey her displeasure at various things (continuing up to now, only tears and cries are heard when she gets hurt or surprised).

At night, I remember how she’d sleep. Sure, she’d sleep a few hours at a time. On my chest. Meanwhile, I’d be wide awake, my heart beating madly, trying to find something (on our crappy no-cable tv) on past 3am, because I was POSITIVE the second I’d fall asleep she’d wake up.  Many times I’d attempt to place her in the crib, in the bassinet… nothing worked.

In case I get Momnesia, remind me of this, please. I was up all hours of the night, wandering our 1000 square foot apartment, a newborn in my arms- going to the fridge to get the gripe water, going back to her room to get the mylicon. Pacing, pacing, pacing. Her loud complaining making me try anything to get her to soothe, rocking, patting, shushing. I remember the frantic diaper changing, the nursing in the glider. Intensely I remember nursing her while the other boob leaked through my breast pad, through my tank, dripping down onto the arm of the glider. I remember falling asleep while holding her, since she had finally fallen asleep. What next? I remember waking up in a fright as I was just beginning to drop my arms to tip Piper out onto the floor. I called out, “SHIT!” Utterly horrified by what had happened.

Of course, I remember being jealous of the moms who fed their babies formula because it metabolized slower thus making them sleep longer stretches at night, since my breastmilk only kept her full for two hours. While thinking that, I also remember being thankful that I didn’t have to contend with bottles, and heating up things and measuring powders at 3am. To everything motherhood there are bright and slightly less bright sides.

Then, I remember going to bed, turning on Seinfeld (at 10pm) while Paul fell asleep. Piper was tucked into the epitome of the infant image on my chest, I had one hand cupping her tiny diaper covered tush, the other hand splayed on her back. She was sleeping and breathing on me. As per usual, I remained vigilant while the others were sleeping- watching over my daughter and listening to my husband snore, wondering how in the world a dog sneeze can wake that baby while the loud snore next to her head didn’t.  I went into my nighttime tv watching rituals- Seinfeld, then Friends, then King of the Hill, Married with Children. Piper would awaken and I’d take her into the nursery and I’d nurse her, rock her, soothe her. Eventually she’d fall back to sleep and I’d take this chance to go to sleep myself as I carried her back to our bed, climbed up on the step stool Paul got for me (super high bed), and fall alseep knowing I’d get hopefully two hours of sleep at that time. At this point she was probably five weeks old.  Paul was home for Christmas break, and he remembers waking up to me sleeping upright, with Piper shifted – she was on her knees on the bed up against my hip, hands up under her face which was turned to the side- like she was praying. She woke up this way for a week when we decided that while it was the most precious thing, it was terrifying in it’s riskiness.

I remember the first time she slept in her bassinet- it was three hours. I was overjoyed. Although I missed the soft rise and fall of her breathing on my chest every night, I was happy she was safe, and happy I could finally sleep on my side again. I also remember sleeping on my side and my boob falling out of the useless crossover sleep bra and the compression from sleeping on my side caused my boobs to leak all over the bed.

So far, I remember everything. I remember the pacing, the worrying when she’d choke on my super fast breastmilk letdown, the thinking that that time in our life would never end- and I’d never be able to sleep again. I also remember placing her in her crib for the first time and sleeping soundly for that first set of three hours because I wasn’t hating Paul for snoring and waking her up. Finally, I remember boxing up all the clothes up to nine months, knowing she’ll never, ever wear them again and crying.

I was just watching Piper play by herself right now. Watching her literally made me put my hand to my heart because this child is a dear. Really. She dug my headphones out of my diaper bag where they fell with “Goodnight Moon” atop them. She went to pick up the headphones by their cord and noticed “Goodnight Moon” was flipping and flopping along with the movement. So, thinking that was cool, she did it again.

I put a platter of snacks down for her: fresh peas, cherry puffs, and cheerios. I wanted to see which she’d choose. Piper went straight for the peas, then the cheerios, and left the puffs alone. Then Piper decided to place a puff on the floor, and tried to eat it without hands.

When she has a book, she holds it in both hands and mutters to herself as she turns the pages. When we were in San Diego, I had her in the Bjorn and let her “hold” the zoo map. It was comical, really. A little girl with her parents commented, “Look! That baby is reading the map!” Her mother replied, “Yep, it looks like she’s trying to decide where they should go next!” She did decide where to go- “Fussytown”. Have you heard of it? It’s on the corner of “Napville” and “Nurse City”.

At work, on her good days (which outnumber the bad), she’s a joy. She shrieks with glee when she’s cruising into a coworker’s office. When she sees my boss, that gleeful exclamation of  “BEAAAA!” comes barreling out and I could die. I then stop questioning bringing her in here. If I was a SAHM she wouldn’t have these people she sees every day who love her and teach her things. She wouldn’t go to the bank with them, get nuzzled by them, and put her trust into them.

Piper wouldn’t be Piper without work. And honestly? Work wouldn’t be work without Piper. I just need to remind myself of that more often. At least, until she learns to walk, then she’ll be in a cage.

There is a new attraction in the Felix household. Woofie has realized it’s best to befriend the grabby midget and she’ll drop food down to him. What he doesn’t realize is that the food is sugar snap peas, frozen peas and cheerios (yes! Piper eats cheerios, my big girl!). Still, our overweight “mini” dachshund (I laugh in the face of the term “mini”) will take what he can get.

The other day Paul witnessed something interesting going on between Piper and Woofie. It appeared Woofie was taunting our little crawler with his squeaky toy! He’d grab it, mosey over to where she was sitting, inch closer to her then dart out of her reach when she started reaching for him. Paul laughed at Woofie’s trickery, but felt bad for Piper because she’s not fast enough to play grab-it with a dog!

Yesterday, though, I caught Woofie doing the same thing. This time, though, I realized- he’s PLAYING with her. He’s not taunting her, he’s trying to get her to play with him! At first I felt a little guilty, how neglected is this poor dog? Trying to get a baby who can’t even manage to sit upright and look up at the same time without falling backwards to play tug of war with him!  Then I sat back and watched their game unfold.

Woofie would grab the rubber squeaky toy by one of the ends (it’s shaped like a barbell, but the ends have three parts instead of one round end) and have the other end of the toy facing Piper. Piper would try to grab it, and thinking she was going to be faster at it, Woofie would dart back a step. Then, noticing she hadn’t grabbed it, he would sidle up to her again and give her another chance. She missed grabbing it a few times so Woofie got fed up and decided to just drop it on her lap and he’ll take the end that she doesn’t have. Unfortunately for that idea, she just picked up the toy and “threw” it back to him. And again. And again. It was seriously the cutest thing I have ever seen.

Since Piper was born, her relationship with Woofie has been complicated. At first, she was the crying thing that demanded so much time. Then she became “The Thing That Kicks” (which is how we heard her first laugh!), so he learned to stay away from her.  After that bit of fun, Woofie dropped his guard enough to let her pat him- pat, not pet. He’d be on the couch and we’d join him. With a wary eye, Woofie would stay there, even until she got a little closer. Then, one day… Piper grabbed a baby fistful of naked puppy tummy. After that he kept his distance, jumping off the couch should she be near. When she began to crawl, he’d run up and snuff her for awhile, which she loved. More recently, she began shoving him away, which Woofie seems to take as a challenge? A bit of rough play, maybe? Thus began the “Piper and Woofie- Best Friends Forever” era.

It is too cute for words. I must get it on camera, really.

I am so sorry I’ve been neglecting you out there. My BFF is coming to visit LA next week and we’ll FINALLY get to meet. Yes, we’ve never met. Shut up. I’ve been really hustling to get work done here and pictures hung so it doesn’t look like we just moved in yesterday.

I also started writing a book, so that’s taking up a bit of time!
To placate you, here are a few videos of Piper.

Enjoy! I promise to be back really soon!

Today I was thinking about my literal inability to be in the sun (even with SPF 60 sunblock- BLOCK, not screen- specially ordered for sun-intolerant skin from Canada), and how I hope Piper doesn’t inherit this not-so-recently acquired curse. This prompted me to think about the things I hope she acquires from us, as well as the things I hope she somehow manages to creep past unscathed. If you’re a Rascal Flatts fan, this is much like “My Wish”, a hit song of theirs.

I hope she receives Paul’s patience, and deft skills with his hands. I hope she is athletic, but not TOO athletic, for it could overshadow her other attributes. I hope she takes my love of reading, and my constantly giddy persona. If we’re lucky, I want her to get both of our Fathers’ love of constantly learning, along with my mother in law’s love of crafts and sewing, and my mom’s ability to make so much out of nearly nothing.

I hope Piper always strives to be the best she can be, while also refraining from being “the best, no matter what”. If possible, Piper will always always have a sense of humor, and be able to find the bright side when the darkness is closing in. I want her to be able to trust, but not be too  naive, and I’d like her to be caring and giving, but not give so much that she has nothing left of herself.

If there is a God, I hope He/She watches over our angel to make sure she’s okay when we’re not there to help guide her. If possible, I hope our departed loved ones cushion the fall when she missteps. Unlike me, I hope Piper is capable of going out into the sun and not bursting into flame and hives. Of course, I also hope she remembers to ALWAYS wear sunscreen- don’t forget your ears!

I hope Piper never has to deal with being compared to siblings, family members or friends, and never has a teacher say, “Oh, you’re XXXX’s sister? Hm.” I hope she makes friends in Kindergarten and keeps them for the rest of her life, I want her to live like the women in the novels I read, always there for their “sister-friends” (yes, I just read another book by the Ya-Ya Sisterhood author, as well as watched “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants”, why do you ask?).

While I hope Piper never has to feel emotional pain, I also hope she opens up her heart to let people in. Should her heart break, I hope she has wonderful friends and family to help pull her through. In this same vein, I hope that one day, far, far, far in the future, God willing, should Paul or I have to leave her, that the stronger parent goes last, to help buffer her pain. When the last one of us goes, I hope she is strong and will never forget what we’ve shared and taught her. As a parent prays, I hope to the God of all Gods that I never have to see her go before us.

My wish is for Piper to be her own person, and to be able to go into a class where she knows no one, but leave with friends. I wish that she’ll be able to always make friends, but never be fickle enough to dump them for someone new, or a new boy. I hope the love of her life will treat her well, and that she’ll use her Dad as an example of what a good man is, because he’s the best man I’ve ever known.

I hope Piper finds love, and realizes how wonderful it is. I hope that love treats her well, but doesn’t blind her to faults that can cause cracks in a relationship’s foundation. I hope she knows how much we wanted her.

My name is Amber, and I have something to tell you. First, let me back up… Back in 2008, I was trying to conceive. At the start of 2009, I was still trying to conceive. I was angry, sad, bitter and jealous of women who had what I wanted. When I’d see a “complaint” about being a parent or about a pregnancy, internally I’d wince and clench my fists. I’d think, “You want to trade? I’ll give you my empty womb for your infant’s sleep troubles or the belly full of fetus.” As I’ve said before, even NOW I still find myself angrily closing out a window of a thread on how easy it was to get pregnant, I still find myself remembering the pain of trying to conceive. Now, this is where I speak honestly…

At least once a week I wish I could go back to this time last year, when I was blissfully pregnant and loving every minute of it. Unlike most pregnant women, I never reached that “Get this baby OUT of me” point. I made it to 4o weeks 2 days and still wished I had another 40 to go. While I loved my pregnancy, that’s not why I want to go back in time constantly.

No, and the real reason is why TTC Amber would hate me, why women having trouble trying to conceive would hate me… Of course, I’m here to be honest, so here goes.

Sometimes… I wonder if I’m really cut out to be a parent. Sometimes… I wish I could go back in time to this time last year so I could enjoy all the things I can’t do now. Sometimes… I wonder if I made a mistake.

Yes, I said that. Please don’t bash me.

When I was pregnant, I paid no real thought to how hard it would be to go to work with Piper every single day. I didn’t know how HARD it would be to go back to work after six weeks, when I had JUST gotten the okay to resume normal activities. I didn’t know my life would be so consumed with diapers, billing, nursing, answering phones, sleep deprivation and invoicing. No one told me how hard it was to be a working mom. Then again, there aren’t too many moms who take their kids to work with them every single day. No, while I was pregnant I was basking in the glow that was myself. I was receiving compliments about how pregnancy suited me, and I was enjoying the feel of our baby moving inside me.

I pshawed sleep deprivation, boasting that I was able to run off of five hours of sleep anyway. Of course, those five hours were in one large chunk, not spaced out like it is now. I laughed at people who told me to go out and have fun now- since we weren’t ever really “going out” people. I didn’t know Piper would decide every part of my schedule, from bathing, to sleeping to eating.

Despite all that, I can not imagine my life without Piper. I can’t imagine not seeing that smiling face looking at me every day. Not hearing her squealing giggle when something tickles her just right, not feeling that sweaty head on my shoulder, hearing that suck-suck-suck sound as she soothes herself to sleep.

But, like every single parent in the entire universe, there are days when Piper is uncontrollably grumpy, she’s gotten herself so worked up all I can do is stand there and pointlessly wail, “What? What is so wrong?” There are days when I have work that has to be done immediately, and she’s screaming on the floor, or pulling phone cords out of the wall.

Then, there are days when she falls off the bed, tips face first out of her car seat onto the floor, grabs the dog’s puppy gate so that it falls just-like-that onto her pudgy baby wrist- leaving a bruise when I think, “I don’t think I’m cutting it, here. She deserves better.” The bruise constantly reminding me that I Was Not There In Time. The bruise that told bystanders that Mommy wasn’t on her A Game That Day- of course, it turned out to be a bad week for her, see the above incidents for proof.

If someone had told me while I was TTC that sometimes I’d get thisclose to possibly wondering if I should have gotten pregnant after all,  I’d shoot fire out of my ears and tell them nostrils a’flaring, “You need to get out of my house, you son of a bitch.” I am here to tell you, motherhood is wonderful. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is doubting the job you’re doing because this time, it’s not only you your decisions are affecting. Motherhood sometimes feels like a burden, and any mom would be lying if she didn’t admit she felt that at least once or twice in her “career” as a mom. I know it doesn’t mean we don’t love our children, it just means we recognize what a HUGE sacrifice it is to be a mom.

I apologize to TTC Amber, for I know what a shock it is to hear that I turned out to be one of those ungrateful mommies after all. I just wanted to share, in case other moms may feel like this every now and then, too.

The past two nights, Paul and I were in San Diego. Also, the past two nights, Paul and I were forced to use the bathroom in the hotel lobby starting at 8pm. Whose fault is that? You’re looking at her. See, Piper has a routine. It starts at 6, when she eats dinner. Usually that goes to about 6:45 or so, depending on how many little “snacks” come after her actual dinner- she likes to pick things up and practice putting them in her mouth. After dinner, we play a bit. On bath nights we get the tub ready at 7, then comes the bedtime routine- the same every.single.night: triple paste, diaper, Aveeno’s calming lotion, jammies and into the nursery we go to be nursed and rocked with the baby crack machine (white noise) playing “rain”. Then, I become a sleep sheriff, and demand there be no loud noises, no barks, no peeking in, no use of Paul’s bathroom which shares a wall with her nursery, no lights on… I’m terrible.

The thing with traveling is having to disrupt the schedule. Or, in our recent trip, having to cordon off the bathroom/closet/dressing table/sink/coffee maker area to use as Piper’s “room”. Piper has never slept in her pack n play as an older baby. Well, one night she slept in it for three hours- but never has she slept an entire night in it. Since I knew that would be hard enough for her to get used to, the idea of having to keep her in the room with us while we read, talked and watched tv gave me hives. Piper would refuse to go down and would get increasingly fussy as she got more and more exhausted. So Paul and I agreed: the best place for her and the pack n play would be the bathroom area that was completely dark, had more than enough room, and two doors we could close. Of course, this meant… not going to the bathroom in our own room past eight o’clock. Luckily we were pretty close to the lobby and we managed to only go once each while on our two night vacation. The first night Piper went down and didn’t wake until 3:30, which was awesome. Of course, Paul had then awakened just in time for me to have put her back down again. Since I’m crazy, and would rather have him pee in front of our room than wake a recently back to sleep baby, he got dressed and walked down to the lobby at four am. Lucky for him it was empty, it wasn’t as lucky for me. I just used the occasion to tell them we needed a “privacy please” door hanger, rather than tell them “Hey, I need to use your bathroom because my baby is sleeping in ours”.

It was a little tricky, as the first night I went out in search of ice and wound up getting the urge. Since having Piper, my bladder control isn’t the best (while I never peed myself while pregnant, at least I have that), so just the NOTION of having to pee causes me to leak a little. So not joking here. SO I went out with my ice bucket and felt the need to pee. Since I thought it would look weird to have a girl walk into the bathroom holding an empty ice bucket (or full, really, not a big difference in weird), I set the bucket on a rock outside the lobby and did my business. I came outside, looked around for witnesses, seeing none I headed back to the ice maker. I kept telling myself, “If Piper wakes up, just go to the bathroom and let her cry for a bit”. It never happened.

The second night was a nightmare. Not only did I have the MOST insane headache that six tylenol couldn’t remove, but Piper also woke seemingly every hour crying. The first time she had her blanket on her head. Seriously. ON HER HEAD. I’d be crying too, if you woke up like that. Of course, she was sitting up when I found her, but I have no idea how that blanket got on her head. Paul and I were so exhausted from The San Diego Zoo that we both conked out, which was great for the bathroom issue but not so great for being woken up every hour, jumping up in a haze after your husband smacks you on the arm to tell you the baby is crying, stumbling around in the dark.

This morning she woke up before 6, and when I brought her into bed with us (a very RARE occasion) she fell asleep for two hours, thank god.

Parenthood. It means going without a bathroom so your baby can sleep.

…watch helplessly as their infant daughters slide off a couch onto the tiles- FACE FIRST. I wasn’t going to blog about this, I didn’t want to be told that I should watch my daughter more carefully, or that I shouldn’t even have her on the couch in the first place, now that she’s mobile and all. Then I thought, screw that! After posting about Piper’s Very First Head Injury (one for the baby books, eh?) on Twitter, I received a handful of stories from other moms and gals who are also members of the Baby’s First Head Injury club (either as a host Mommy or Member). Thus, I realized I AM NOT ALONE, and I am not a bad parent.

Paul told me last night that he was kind of… relieved. He’d been dreading this day, the day when she would hurt herself while one of us was watching her and she’d get her first big bump. Now that it’s over, we can be okay- our baby isn’t made of glass after all!

For the sake of full disclosure, this is what happened: Paul and I were running late to head to work, we placed Piper’s car seat on our armchair and placed her in it. Both of us were standing in front of it. Paul saw a nail polish bottle on the floor by her exersaucer and, as he had just spent a full day cleaning, asked how it came to be there. I said, “It’s BEEN THERE”, and turned to pick it up at the same time he turned to pick it up. It was literally one foot away from us.

The next minute was simultaneously in slow motion and super fast forward. Piper began to PIVOT out of her seat. We both saw her falling, reaching out to grab her, touching her but not able to grasp. She was falling, falling, falling- it seemed so slow that I could just grab her, right? But I COULDN’T. I couldn’t get a grip on her. So my baby fell. Face first on the hard tiles of our floor.

I won’t lie. I yelled out a phrase like “FRICKING FRICK FRICK FRICKER- FRICK ME!!!!!” Although it wasn’t “frick”. Piper landed on the ground, partially on Paul’s foot. He immediately grabbed for her and held her to his chest, while she began the wail/sob of a baby who is desperately hurting and not quite sure WHY. I ran to the freezer to get an ice pack for her forehead- we were lucky as she managed to just hit her forehead (so we thought) instead of her mouth.

As Paul consoled her, I went around going, “What the hell. DAMNIT. Poor girl, Mommy’s sorry!” After she stopped crying and tried to eat the ice pack, we loaded her up in the Baby Launcher (aka the car seat) and I went to work, my red-foreheaded baby in tow. She was uber crabby when we arrived, so I gave her some infant Fauxlenol and noticed her nose was scraped! Somehow, in her fall, she scraped the side of her nostril.

While my heart hurt for the pain our daughter endured, she seemed to be just fine. The redness is gone (while the scratch remains), and she’s seemingly okay.

Here’s a photo of her, after a few hours had passed. The scratch is on the left side, but you can’t see it!

Her little baby bangs are so cute! It’s the hair that fell out growing in finally.