A few more grey hairs to add to the bunch

When The Girl was less then 3 months old (I was still home from work with her), I was carrying her up high on my chest with her head above my shoulder. I was walking into our front living area and made a turn...a turn that collided my infant daughter's head with the corner of our entertainment center. It was the first time I heard The Girl cry from pain and I myself never experienced such a stabbing, gut wrenching pain within me.

Somehow I was able to call The Husband at work and between sobs and hysterics told him what happened. We can laugh about it today but back then, I thought I broke my baby!

Flash forward 2 years, 3 months about and I am at the top of the staircases watching that same child tumble down them. Even though there has been many bumps, falls, bruises, and cuts between these 2 incident. I've seen (and held) vomit. I've seen and wiped away blood. But nothing prepared me for running down my 10 stairs to my daughter who lay crying at the bottom of them.

The Girl has been a pro at our stairs for some time. She was crawling up them long before she should have been able to. She was walking up them long before her father or I were able to watch without our hearts skipping several beats. Perhaps it was just a matter of time until this would happen. Lord knows, I remember tumbling down my childhood home's stairs.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs and gave her a good once over enough to tell there were no obvious signs of blood spilling out or bones sticking out, I picked her up (not a good idea??) and brought her back up the stairs to my bedroom.

She was crying, of course, I looked at her eyes, looked at her body...all seemed ok. I tried calling The Husband several times but no answer. No message was necessary as I assumed seeing a zillion missed calls from me would be enough to get a call back. I did what anyone else would do....I called MY mommy. The Girl fell down the stairs. I think she's okay but I don't know. By then The Girl actually settled herself down a bit. As I talked to my parents and they gave me signs to look for, The Husband was calling on the other line.

Once we finally connected and I splurted out She fell down the stairs, I think she's okay but I don't know, I burst into tears. Maybe I was in tears before...I don't remember exactly when the waterworks happened. I just remember repeatedly apologizing to The Girl for allowing this to happen. I mean I was RIGHT THERE and couldn't stop her. I was crying as I was trying to evaluate The Girl. The Girl began to smile and jump - yea I think she's okay. She even began swatting my tears away.

I stayed home from work with her for a couple of hours. Spoke with her doctor and all that good stuff. He didn't even need to see her. I hated dropping her off, the downfall of being working parent (a working parent whose job is hanging by a thread so really can't be taking much time off of work right now).

The guilt is hard - especially that day. I could have brought myself to tears just by thinking about it any point in that day. I was emotionally spent by the time I got home and had to deal with her being her daredevil self....balancing on the edge of our bed, sitting backwards at the edge of the couch. Nerves.Fried.

We're lucky she is fine. I'm very thankful for the carpeted stairs right now. I know this happens and will, very likely happen again. But can it not be on my watch next time?