So my wife and I are still married even though she let Gavin do a sommersault off a chair and onto the unpadded nursery floor headfirst. He is, thankfully, okay. And she's still alive.
I know, I know, I'm probably over reacting. But maybe not! Right now Gavin is asleep in his room and all I can think of is, "What if he has a concussion? What if he's lapsed into a coma?" Stacy went to parenting club (no, this is not a joke. It's a real group set up through Beaumont of parents who had babies at about the same time. Most people bring their baby and their partner. We did this once. But the group meets form 7-9 and our Bear likes to be in bed by 7 at the latest. Usually earlier. So now one of us, me, stays home with the Bear and the other, Stacy, goes to parenting club. It is also not called parenting club, but that's what we've always called it so I don't know the real name) and Gavin woke up a little before 8:00 crying. Usually I'd let him cry for a bit because often he goes back to sleep quickly, but tonight I high-tailed it into his room and scooped him up. His crying sounded a little different than it usually does and I was convinced that he was crying because he was in pain from hitting his head on the floor. And so I gave him some dye-free cherry-flavored Children's Tylenol, held him for a bit and put him back to bed. He's snoozing again. And I am fighting the urge to check on him.
I know I will eventually do something dumb that results in Gavin getting hurt. The first time he was sitting up and then tipped over and clunked his head was on Stacy's watch. I was very upset with her. Then a couple of days later it happened to me. The flip off of the chair thing was far more egregious, though, because Stacy was right there, not even inches away. She just wasn't paying attention for that one second. And that one second was all he needed. You really can't trust babies. As mentioned before, they have little regard for their own health and safety. But it's also pretty impossible to keep them safe all the time. Even if I held Gavin in my arms all day long he could still get hurt if I tripped and fell. Hey, I slipped on some ice today on my way to my car. I didn't fall down, but if I had been holding Gavin I probably would have since I used my arms to stop myself by grabbing onto the trunk of my car. In any case, I want pain to not be an option to Gavin. This is, of course, not fair to him. There is, of course, the idea that one only knows joy if one also knows sorrow, and this has always been fine when applied to myself. I appreciate the whole spectrum of emotions and all. But then it comes to my son it's hard to have the same attitude. I absolutely hate the thought of him one day spraining his ankle or getting made fun of and having his feelings hurt. I already feel terribly guilty that he will have to experience junior high. I never want him to feel the way I felt during those horrible, ugly years. But that's not really my job - or within my power. My job is to make sure he always has a place to go after that shit happens. To try to always be one place in his life that doesn't suck and to be someone in his life who is constant. The love part. The part that makes the bad shit better.
And he's going to be okay. We're all going to be.
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