babyproofing danger

It was a forgotten glass. A glass of orange juice, reading books and watching Wallace and Grommit on Netflix, a regular Saturday morning at McCasa. Steve's call from the family room was different. It wasn't a "bring a towel, someone spilled" kind of call. Like all things like this, the slow motion set in and I turned the corner to find her tear filled face, foot in her father's hand. My instincts kicked in and we got her to the kitchen counter to get a better look. Top of her right foot and then suddenly, oh god, her left great toe. Neither one would stop bleeding long enough to assess. I got her into a chair, propped her feet onto the table, put a pillow behind her back. Elevate the feet above the heart. It sounded right. Pressure. Lots of pressure with stark white dampened Bounty towels.

(Insert non-helpful parenting failure dialogue here.)

Instead of all that self loathing and disappointment in myself, instead I'll tell you about all the googling I have done on wound care. How I am focused on keeping this wound clean and moist and headed in the direction of healing. I am surpremely disappointed in myself, but as everyone keeps pointing out, it was an accident. I still cannot figure how the glass got broken in the first place. Did it get broken and then she grazed by it with her feet? Scary pointy edges screaming at me from the kitchen counter. Your mind goes right to the what ifs and it isn't hard to imagine way worse scenarios. I thank god that it was her foot and not... well, let's just leave it at that. Stitches could have been a welcome alternative if she had been facing the other way.


Lesson learned, we need a coffee table. We have been living without one intending to make the kid's play environment less dangerous. They are old enough to deal with a coffee table now and though I shiver at the thought of the addition of yet another clutter prone surface in the house, I know that ironically the coffee table that once threatened their lives (or at least their soft spots), could now save them (or at least prevent injury). I'd rather have them bump their heads on a table than lay them out on one to adminster first aid.

I hold Caro's precious little feet in my hands, carefully, gently removing band aids, cleaning, applying neosporin, fresh dressings. Little feet that could have been damaged severely. Little feet that still have so much to do, so much dancing, running, journeying. It's more than the feet. Things like this make you take inventory of lots of things and you become thankful for even the things in your life that madden you. Yeah, I'm open to some head bumps. Time to get my Pinterest on for the all important life saving table.

1 comment:

  1. When Katherine was only a few weeks old I cut her finger pretty good with the nail clippers. That same day I took her into work so show her off. I'll never forget what a few of my female coworkers said. The first, our Division director said: "Looks like she's forgiven you but have you forgiven yourself?" She was completely serious and I realized she was right. Another coworker looked at the cut and said "Oh, honey, that's the least of the ways you're going to maim her." She was being funny and it made me laugh but I understood what she was trying to say. I had to remember all of this again two years later when she knocked out that tooth because boy did I feel guilty about that one (I had let her wear crocks that day and I am positive it was the shoes that caused the fall). Point is, yes, it could have been much worse, yes it will happen again in another way, shape or form that you can't prevent. But you have to forgive yourself. She doesn't blame you one bit.