Bump

Yesterday morning I was doing some chores in our bedroom. Because Harrison is now rolling all over the place, I thought it would he a good idea to pop him in a laundry basket on our bed so he could still watch Cbeebies whilst I hung up clothes and put things away. I padded the basket with a blanket and he seemed fine, happily watching his programmes. I went into the nursery to hang up some of his clothes. After a few minutes I heard a sickening thud. I stopped for a second, praying that maybe it was the remote control falling off the bed. But I knew. I rushed into the room, the laundry basket was overturned on the bed and there was no Harrison. No sound. I ran to J's side of the bed and there was my little baby, face down, flat on the floor, not crying. The next few seconds were a blur. I picked him up, his little face was contorted with pain and shock. He opened his mouth and let out the loudest, most distressing wail I've ever heard. He started crying, so did I. I checked him over to find the source of pain. Was anything broken? Did he land on something sharp? A smallish red bruise, speckled with darker, blood-red spots formed on his forehead. I called J in a panic. Oh god, what had I done? This was all my fault. J tried to calm me down, I FaceTimed him and sent him some photos of Harrison's head. Did I need to take him to hospital? In the mean time, Harrison had stopped crying, but still seemed upset (understandably). I called 111, they assured me he should be fine but gave me some advice. They asked me to speak to a doctor too, which I did. By this point, Harrison seemed fine, he had a little nap but had been smiling and laughing at me before whilst I was making these calls. 

Then the anxiety kicked in. My mind kept reliving those moments, the basket on the bed, his fragile little body on the floor. And worse, my over active imagination insisted on playing over and over again every possibility of what may have happened. Did he fall this way or that? Did he roll out if the basket first and then fall of the bed? I saw his little body tumbling over the side backwards. Saw his little hands flail in the air as he tried to reach out for mummy to catch him, though I wasn't there. I wasn't with him and that just kills me. I imagine his little mind, confused and feeling pain, wondering how he ended up on the floor practically under the bed with the dust bunnies. Even now, nearly 24 hours after this occured, I am still rendered speechless and tears roll down my cheeks at my stupidity, of the terrible fear he must have felt and the realisation that it could have been so, so much worse.

He's lying next to me now, asleep and breathing gently on my face. His bruise is already fading, who knows what memories his mind holds, perhaps it's already forgotten. But for me, I will never forget. I will learn from that mistake and try to never, ever let that happen again.