moominmolly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moominmolly) wrote2006-04-01 01:28 pm
moominmolly) wrote2006-04-01 01:28 pm
(no subject)
Parenting link of the day, mostly for my own reference: Ignore your child, but do it lovingly.
It has come to my attention that I mostly only talk about the good stuff. I admit it is a bit of a habit; I find fun more interesting to share than pain. But I don't mean to give an inaccurate picture of what all of this is like. For all that N is cute and wonderful and for all that I'm enjoying watching her development, there are definitely days that are frustrating and nights that are worse. (Make no mistake: the sleep deprivation I'm experiencing as a new parent is completely unlike any I'd ever experienced before, and can screw me up for days if I'm not careful.)
For a while, I've been meaning to write a post about all the ways in which I feel like I'm a "bad mother", and the experiences that led us to those choices (unrepentant pacifier usage, occasional formula feedings, leaving her with a sitter sometimes while we socialize, and so on). But yesterday, I actually had an experience that DID make me feel like a bad mother.
Yesterday afternoon, while coming in to the house, I was holding N in the carseat in one arm and had my camera slung over the other shoulder. I also had the diaper bag on my back and another bag ... somewhere. I was probably carrying too much stuff. Anyway, I ... what happened? I don't clearly remember. Maybe I had to set something down, maybe I was getting my keys, maybe I was startled by a noise, but the camera slipped off of my shoulder and fell on Natalie's forehead.
Now, this is the Rebel I'm talking about, a couple of pounds of big heavy camera, and I believe that it was the metal ring of the filter on the end of my lens that hit her. I stopped in my tracks and everything froze for a second while I looked at her and she looked at me and I looked at the dent in her head and my heart came into my throat but everything was still silent since she was still shocked -- and then she started screaming in a way I've never heard her scream. I ripped her out of the carseat and threw everything else onto the sidewalk next to it and ran inside, clutching her to my chest and murmuring soft comforting things with all of the gentleness I could muster through my total horror. I got an ice cube out of the freezer and tried to hold it to the swelling on her head, and this made her more agitated; it occurred to me to nurse her, so I took her and the ice cube and a little cloth into the next room and sat down to nurse. Trying to hold an ice cube to the head of an angry baby while running? Hard.
Anyway, I nursed her and she calmed down enough to do that, even though she still hated the ice cube and would pause while nursing to cry some more. I called David to freak out a little bit, while she was nursing, and he suggested calling the doctor. I knew this was the right thing to do, but I still had the impulse to call him first. So I explained what had happened to the nurse on call, and he recommended that I go to the ER right away. AFter all, he said, at her young age, we don't know what might have happened, and so she will probably need an XRay or a CAT scan.
Good lord! Had I just inflicted an injury on my child so severe that she needed to be rushed to the ER for a CAT scan?!
Nothing for it but to go. We went to the Cambridge Hospital, and I brought a bag of frozen corn to hold to her head in the waiting room. She semed to like it more than ice. While waiting for the triage nurse, N calmed down enough to play with her shiny stuffed robot. In fact, she was calm enough that he made an incredibly inappropriate crack about this being a clear case of child abuse, and one for child protective services.
Note to the public: do not joke with the parent of an infant about turning them in for child abuse. It's probably not funny.
Anyway, the doctor and female nurse I dealt with once we were in were great. They held us for observation for 5 hours, and Natalie was fine. No weird pupil response, no vomiting, no favoring of one side over the other, no inconsolable prolonged wailing. Just a little bit more irritable than usual, but basically normal. When David showed up to bring me food and cash to pay for parking (I had forgotten my wallet and the diaper bag), N cheered up tremendously. I suspect that hospitals are deathly boring.
They discharged her and told us to bring her in tomorrow (today) for another visit. She has seemed fine since then, smiling and burbling and grabbing her feet as usual, and the only difference between now and any other day is that she has a faint faint red mark on her skin and she wants to nurse constantly. But hey, it keeps her from being agitated, and makes me feel like if I'm going to drop a big heavy thing on my kid, at least I'm able to comfort her afterward.
EDIT: I know this doesn't actually make me a bad mother, but it sure did make me feel like one!
It has come to my attention that I mostly only talk about the good stuff. I admit it is a bit of a habit; I find fun more interesting to share than pain. But I don't mean to give an inaccurate picture of what all of this is like. For all that N is cute and wonderful and for all that I'm enjoying watching her development, there are definitely days that are frustrating and nights that are worse. (Make no mistake: the sleep deprivation I'm experiencing as a new parent is completely unlike any I'd ever experienced before, and can screw me up for days if I'm not careful.)
For a while, I've been meaning to write a post about all the ways in which I feel like I'm a "bad mother", and the experiences that led us to those choices (unrepentant pacifier usage, occasional formula feedings, leaving her with a sitter sometimes while we socialize, and so on). But yesterday, I actually had an experience that DID make me feel like a bad mother.
Yesterday afternoon, while coming in to the house, I was holding N in the carseat in one arm and had my camera slung over the other shoulder. I also had the diaper bag on my back and another bag ... somewhere. I was probably carrying too much stuff. Anyway, I ... what happened? I don't clearly remember. Maybe I had to set something down, maybe I was getting my keys, maybe I was startled by a noise, but the camera slipped off of my shoulder and fell on Natalie's forehead.
Now, this is the Rebel I'm talking about, a couple of pounds of big heavy camera, and I believe that it was the metal ring of the filter on the end of my lens that hit her. I stopped in my tracks and everything froze for a second while I looked at her and she looked at me and I looked at the dent in her head and my heart came into my throat but everything was still silent since she was still shocked -- and then she started screaming in a way I've never heard her scream. I ripped her out of the carseat and threw everything else onto the sidewalk next to it and ran inside, clutching her to my chest and murmuring soft comforting things with all of the gentleness I could muster through my total horror. I got an ice cube out of the freezer and tried to hold it to the swelling on her head, and this made her more agitated; it occurred to me to nurse her, so I took her and the ice cube and a little cloth into the next room and sat down to nurse. Trying to hold an ice cube to the head of an angry baby while running? Hard.
Anyway, I nursed her and she calmed down enough to do that, even though she still hated the ice cube and would pause while nursing to cry some more. I called David to freak out a little bit, while she was nursing, and he suggested calling the doctor. I knew this was the right thing to do, but I still had the impulse to call him first. So I explained what had happened to the nurse on call, and he recommended that I go to the ER right away. AFter all, he said, at her young age, we don't know what might have happened, and so she will probably need an XRay or a CAT scan.
Good lord! Had I just inflicted an injury on my child so severe that she needed to be rushed to the ER for a CAT scan?!
Nothing for it but to go. We went to the Cambridge Hospital, and I brought a bag of frozen corn to hold to her head in the waiting room. She semed to like it more than ice. While waiting for the triage nurse, N calmed down enough to play with her shiny stuffed robot. In fact, she was calm enough that he made an incredibly inappropriate crack about this being a clear case of child abuse, and one for child protective services.
Note to the public: do not joke with the parent of an infant about turning them in for child abuse. It's probably not funny.
Anyway, the doctor and female nurse I dealt with once we were in were great. They held us for observation for 5 hours, and Natalie was fine. No weird pupil response, no vomiting, no favoring of one side over the other, no inconsolable prolonged wailing. Just a little bit more irritable than usual, but basically normal. When David showed up to bring me food and cash to pay for parking (I had forgotten my wallet and the diaper bag), N cheered up tremendously. I suspect that hospitals are deathly boring.
They discharged her and told us to bring her in tomorrow (today) for another visit. She has seemed fine since then, smiling and burbling and grabbing her feet as usual, and the only difference between now and any other day is that she has a faint faint red mark on her skin and she wants to nurse constantly. But hey, it keeps her from being agitated, and makes me feel like if I'm going to drop a big heavy thing on my kid, at least I'm able to comfort her afterward.
EDIT: I know this doesn't actually make me a bad mother, but it sure did make me feel like one!