It was bound to happen, I know. I've been dreading it since the day we brought him home and every time I take him downstairs, I have nightmares about it. Well it finally happened. I fell. With Matthew in my arms. I was so scared. He was so scared. I didn't think he hit his head, just his leg and arm, which seemed to be ok. I checked him over up and down, stripped him down and moved all his limbs to be sure he was still in one piece. He looked normal. We went through 30 minutes of inconsolable crying, another 30 minutes of crying and whining on and off and refusing to nurse and he finally fell asleep on my chest. When he woke up he was hungry. That was a good sign. The rest of the afternoon he didn't seem like himself. He was fussy, but that could be due to the cold he currently has (his second one in his short little life). And then I noticed a red line on his head. Cue the panic, again. He DID hit his head after all. After some more crying, I called Telehealth and the nurse walked me through all the signs and symptoms and we determined that he in fact, was ok. So we're going to watch him carefully over the next two days and wake him up at night to be sure he is able to wake up.
I know. It happens a lot and it's nothing I did wrong. But I still feel like the worst mother in the world. Hearing those cries of pain, seeing the tears fall, watching him shudder and struggle to catch his breath, for a whole hour, was more than I could take. So today, I feel like the worst mom in the world. And hopefully tomorrow, the feeling will pass. As long as my beautiful baby is still ok.
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