the littlest carscadden: Nearly 9 Months: Big Mistakes

The good news: the gate at the top of the stairs is finally installed. The bad news: it happened after I let Miles fall down the stairs. I guess let is not quite the right word. It's not like I was in a different part of the house or that I encouraged him to play at the top of the stairs. It was Tuesday night, Lucas had just left for band practice. I was down the hallway from Miles. I was looking in a closet, trying to pack for our trip away this weekend. And then, he's so fast, he made a bee line for the top of the stairs. And I yelled "No!" and he thought it was funny, and he kept going. I saw his little hand reach out, trying to feel for the floor, but all it felt was air. And then, his whole tiny body tipping forward and tumbling down. And I watched it happen, running toward him, watching his rag doll body tumble over and over until he hit the floor at the bottom. I'm screaming, he's crying. What an awful mess.

I scooped him up so fast. I called Lucas to come home, "He fell down the entire length of the staircase. We need to go to the hospital." And as I waited for Lucas to get home, Miles calmed, stopped crying. I changed his diaper and his clothes. I held him and made a bottle. And by the time Lucas got home he was the same old Miles, if not a bit dazed.

And at the ER they examined him and he smiled and waved and played. He had a bruise on his head, above his right eyebrow. But otherwise, no broken bones, not even any other bruises. The doctors told us that this type of fall is similar to taking 15 one foot falls. Not too serious for Miles' body and head. It would've been a bigger deal if he had taken one 15 foot fall. We were sent home with diagnosis of "contusion," aka bruise.

The guilt of it all is just overwhelming. It's eased a bit since that night because I've talked to people about how I let this happen. Inevitably, the response is always a story about their mistakes as parents, their child's broken collarbone, the permanent scar on their son's chin, the toppled shopping cart, the first ER trip, the seventh and tenth trip to the ER. It became clear that this is just one of many, many mistakes I'll make as a parent. With a little boy as active and busy as ours, I'm sure this is not the last time I'll be bringing him to the hospital.

Now I can only see the faint olive color of his bruise. He seems to be no worse for the wear. He's working on his next big milestone: walking. He has taken several coordinated steps, 10 at most. And he's giggled and played and smiled. I think it will take some time before the guilt really dissipates. At least until he gets into his first choice Ivy League.

Here's our bruised little man this week: