BarefootinBoston

Today was a day I was waiting for.  There was a baby boogie event at the library and I was hoping it would work out that E and I could go, and it did.  We got there and there were WAY too many kids and caregivers…just completely overwhelming.  Even more so the packs of women with their little ones, impenetrable by strangers and newcomers.  I figured I would stick it out for E’s benefit.

We were moved to a bigger room and it was mayhem.  But E was happy, enjoying all the little ones and the sounds, dancing to the music and singing along.

I was no where close to happy.  I felt so alone and isolated.  I have made some friends in my former town, but am lacking the true motivation to make them here.  Everyone with babes E’s age have made friends, and I don’t feel like being that strange woman who comes to talk with a group of women already talking, so I stand off with E, by myself, feeling like s*%t.

Motherhood is isolating, I have heard that, but never did I think I would feel this way.  Sure, I have friends, friends I can see at night when they aren’t working, friends who are a 20-30 minute drive away I can see during the day, but I have no one close by who I can call when I just want to go for a walk, or grab a cup of coffee.

Go to those playgroups, that is what people keep suggesting.  I do and find it more difficult time after time.  I smile at mothers, strike up some conversations, but they lead no where.  What is wrong with me?  I would like to think I don’t look like a crazy lady, and don’t give off that aura.  But how can I truly tell?

I suppose the silver lining for today (aside from the beautiful weather) is that I ran into a woman from my childbirth class at the baby boogie thing.  It was so nice to see a familiar, friendly face.

or in our case, sprint off!

Today we had plans to go visit A for lunch, which we try to do weekly.  Well, instead of driving in, I thought it may be a fun adventure to take the bus in.  Save a little on the pollution, try something new out with E.  Um…never again (well, not in the next month at least).

The ride to A’s work was ok.  E was patient while waiting (we maybe waited 10 minutes) and once on the bus, so long as he was standing up or in my lap, he was very content.  Most of the trip in was spent with his head on my shoulder, which I won’t lie, I LOVED.

We got to A’s work, E was fussy whenever he was in his stroller.  A suggested that it may be teething-good thinking on his part as E has been pretty fussy for no apparent reason today and a bit yesterday.  I didn’t even consider teething.  While having his lunch, while walking to the bus stop, while waiting for the bus to go home, E was fussy.  This does not bode well for the return trip home.

We got on the bus and E was ok for a bit.  He started writhing and crying and so I thought I may as well give him his bottle since at least that would settle him down.  I put E down on the seat  next to me (we had stopped to let people on, and there were many people) and started to pour the water into the sippy cup.  Then the bus started.  I couldn’t keep in sitting next to me, he’d fall.  I tried holding E and pouring water in, but ended up pouring it all over myself.  People around me were simply watching, not offering to help (seriously, what is wrong with this world-you see a screaming baby and a mother attempting to make a bottle and you just think it’s some sort of entertainment).  Finally a nice woman sitting next to me offered to help.  She finished off making the bottle and there was E, happy again.

Currently E is screaming in his crib, resisting sleep.  What a day, what a day.

At least I can say we tried it out…

Yesterday I was in the kitchen, prepping some stuff for dinner.  E had just eaten his lunch and was happily standing and crusiing between the cabinets and stove.  He lost his balance, fell on his tush, and then on his head.  I rushed over to him, picked him up and comforted him.

Then I looked at my shirt.  It was covered with blood.  My arm was covered with blood, my neck, my chest.  I started to panic.  I checked E’s mouth, no blood.  I checked E’s head, no blood.  I looked at myself again, there was more blood on me.  Finally, I noticed that it was E’s hand.   Then I noticed how quickly it was coming out.  Then I really started to panic  (I know, I know, not the thing to do).  I called A and asked what to do-he said to bandage him up and take him to the hospital.   Sounded good in theory, but I just couldn’t bandage E up.  He wouldn’t sit still for me to look at his hand, I didn’t want to hurt him even more by trying to wrap him up.   Being the great wife I am, I started to get angry with A and hung up, saying I needed to take care of things…yea.

A few minutes had passed and the bleeding was still pretty heavy.  F@*k this I thought.  I’m calling 911.  So I did.  And actually calmed down.  The funny thing being that E, once I calmed him down for falling and hitting his head, wasn’t upset at all.  If anything,  he was just bothered by my holding his hand wrapped in a paper towel.  A couple of minutes after I called, a police officer showed up.

“What happened?”

“My son cut himself, I’m not sure on what, and a chunk of his finger came off.”

“Do you have it?” the police officer asked.

“Um…no, no, it’s not a piece of his finger, just the skin.”

Ok, now I was feeling pretty badly.  A paramedic and firemen showed up…totaling at least 6 people.  Two of them looked at E’s finger.  They couldn’t figure out where it was cut, but said it wasn’t too bad, and that he wasn’t in dire need of medical attention.  The wrapped it up, suggested I get him a tetanus shot (at that point I had NO idea what he had had for his shot) and seek medical attention if I wanted to (um…YEA!).  Then they all left.

Yea, maybe I over reacted a bit, but I was covered in blood, COVERED.  It looked so much worse than it was.  So, I packed up a few things in E’s diaper bag, grabbed a hoodie to cover my bloody self, loaded the car up, and off we were to the dr.’s.

A met us there, thank goodness, and was surprised at how Emerson was…normal.  We brought him into the doctor, the doctor looked at E’s finger and told us this

He has a superficial cut on the tip of his finger.  The cut that he has on the middle part of his finger isn’t too bad.  Luckily the skin is still there, so it will heal better.  Babies heal very quickly.  Stitches are not needed.  Just make sure change the band aid when it gets nasty looking, and keep it clean.  The only thing we’re looking for is infection.  Keep it covered until Monday.  Call me tomorrow and let me know if it’s still bleeding and how he’s doing.

Ok…phew.  Even though I called 911, over reacting a bit, my baby was going to be ok.  In a way, I’m glad that it happened like it did.  I’ll be better prepared for the future when things are worse…because of course they will be.

And I was feeling like a negligent mother, my perfect baby injured at only 9 months.  But, things happen.  And how he got cut?  The pair of tongs that I had in my hand when I went to comfort him-my guess is he grabbed them and cut himself.  As A puts it, you went over to make him feel better, that’s not a bad thing.

Lesson learned-don’t have anything in hands when comforting baby…