This evening hasn’t been the best. Not terrible, and don’t worry everything is ok. We’re all ok, but Teddy took a tumble right from the top to the bottom of the stairs.
I was right there with him, had walked behind him until he got to the top and then I moved alongside him as he’d usually just crawl forward and go on to the landing.
He didn’t go onto the landing.
He stood up; wobble and gosh it happened so fast, that overbalance backwards. My hands couldn’t get there quick enough. I couldn’t stop him, catch him quick enough. And then… bump. Bump. All the way down the stairs, right to the bottom.
I scoop him up into my arms and try not to cry with panic. Is he ok? Shit I shouldn’t have scooped him up so quickly before checking him. He’s conscious. He’s still screaming. That’s a good sign right?
Arthur’s done a poo upstairs. “Good boy Arthur, just stay there. Don’t come out of the bathroom. Teddy is hurt.” A selfish thought. Please don’t come out of the bathroom and sit on the cream carpet with no pants on. Please. I can’t deal with that and this.
Back to Teddy.
Oh god, I’m a terrible parent. Why didn’t I catch him? Why didn’t I stay behind him? Who lets their 17 month old fall down the stairs?
Strip him off. Sing him a song. Phew he’s calming down.
On the changing table. Ok good, he can move all his arms and legs. He’s not that happy with me lifting his hips up. He doesn’t want to be put down.
Please please don’t have broken anything.
Shit. Did I see him bang his head? It’s ok, it’s carpet. I don’t think he knocked it too hard. But then neither did Liam Neesan’s wife and she was wearing a helmet.
I think I should have him checked over. Oh god I’ve got Arthur. I can’t take two of them to the hospital on my own. Text lovely neighbour and say what’s happened.
Yessss. Lovely neighbour has text back and has said she’ll have Arthur whilst I go to hospital.
Put Teddy down. He’s walking fine. He laughs…
A massive over reaction.
Oh … but does he look a bit stiff? A bit pale? Did that squeak mean that his leg hurts? Put him in the highchair for dinner. He’s definitely labouring that one leg – doesn’t want it to hang loose like the other.
Ok, I’m not completely over-reacting.
Arthur fed and packed off with PJs, pudding, water a toy and a blanket just in case.
Quick, plan for worst case and shove enough in the changing bag for a hospital admission. Toys, food, vests, pjs, bibs, dummies, blankets, milk, bottle, phone charger… yes I did that!
Arrive at the minor injuries department. Say I’m probably over-reacting and that I feel so guilty for not catching him, a billion times over.
Nurses are such a wonderful species aren’t they?
“No it’s not your fault at all. You have to let him climb the stairs, they need to learn these skills. It’s just as risky to carry him. No don’t worry. Better to get it checked out. It’s what we’re here for”.
Observed for a bit and checked over by nice doctor. All is fine. Perhaps he might be stiff tomorrow; that leg might be bruised. Come back if any concerns at all. Checked for concussion signs – all looks ok. Call if any worries in the night… given all the info on what to look for.
Ok. Good. He is ok. Big sigh of relief.
Right, I better tell the husband. Text husband. “Don’t worry, Teddy is fine, but this is what has happened” bla bla bla
“What were you letting him climb the stairs for? Why weren’t you behind him??”
Great. Just great.
No! I can’t have any wine just in case he gets delayed concussion. I should check he’s ok now. Shit… how long have I been typing this for? I haven’t checked him in 20 minutes… I’m a terrible mother.
I will check him now. And every half an hour through the night?
Ok maybe not every half an hour.