Noni And The Goose Egg

This blog post was supposed to be about Noni's first ballet class. How this afternoon's class was her first class on her own, how she beamed for the entire forty-five minutes, how my heart broke a little watching my baby dancing around and following the teacher like she'd been doing it for years. Except, two hours later, that seems like ages ago. The mood of the afternoon shifted between then and now.

Once, when Evie was a little over a year old, I watched her fall down the stairs. She had just learned to climb them on her own. She teetered at the top. And then I watched, horrified, as she tumbled down the stairs, head first, time moving slower that seemed possible and yet too quickly for me to stop her as I watched her painful descent. She landed in a heap on the bottom, crying, and I ran and grabbed her, forgetting anything I'd ever learned about spines and trauma and not moving someone, and sat on the couch shaking for the next hour. Fortunately, she was fine. And since then, I have been an incredibly lucky parent, thinking of hospitals as the places where my babies were born, not places they frequent needing stitches or casts.

And then this afternoon I experienced that feeling all over again. Time going by slowly and quickly at once, watching my child fall head first toward injury. When we parked the car at home after ballet, Noni stood up on Lucy's booster seat by the door. Then she tripped. Lucy, Evie and I all watched as she plummeted head first to the concrete road, landing on her forehead. No outstretched arms to break her fall. Once again, any of that practical lifeguard training went out the window and I grabbed her and held her tight. An egg sized lump and smattering of blood appeared on her forehead.

I came to my senses a little and checked her pupils, which looked normal. I thought about the ER. Then I thought about our neighbor. We live right next door to an ER doctor. This is lucky for us. This is unfortunate for him. Our poor, sweet doctor neighbor who, after a year of living next to us, has inspected two of Lucy's swollen bee stings, a rash on Noni's stomach, and now a head wound. I guess I should admit that this is actually why I haven't spent so much time in the ER. He looked at Noni's head, her eyes, asked her about other injuries, and then came over to check on her two hours later. Like I said, lucky for us. It turns out that she is fine. A little bloodied and bruised, but fine.

And so, rather than thinking about ballet and mourning the end of Noni's toddler years, I am just feeling incredibly grateful right now for three healthy kids. Especially for one who still manages an extra sweet smile, even with a goose egg on her head.