Dekker was having a nap yesterday afternoon, as per usual. He woke up a little earlier than expected, and was talking and moving around. This also happens often enough to know that, if I get him up right then, he’ll be cranky and tired for the rest of the evening. So I leave him to chat and drunk crawl around his crib until he falls back to sleep. Normally his second nap goes until 6:30 or 7:00, but I heard him moving at around 5:30.
He hadn’t been down for long enough at all, so I kept crocheting and watching quiet tv, keeping an ear on him. Everything was completely normal until I heard a bit of a bang. That happens once in a while and ca go one of two ways. Either he’s hurt, or he’s moving his crib around (its on wheels for some reason) and it bumped into a wall. So, after the bang, I waited to hear what would happen. And I heard a scream. Not a wail, not a cry, but a scream. I bolted upstairs and went into his room, fearing that maybe he had made it out of the crib. For the record, he’s never even tried to get out of the crib. I don’t think he really has the ability yet, but if he did, he is not sure on his feet and would not catch himself. I think sometimes I just fear the worst. I’m probably not alone in that.
Dekker was in his crib, sitting in the corner, shrucking away, trying to catch his breath. His face was completely soaked in tears. When I reached for him, he barely even lifted his arms for me. Now, usually if Dekker gets a head bump or wipes out and gets scared, he flails around and panics a little. This time, I grabbed him and held is head on my shoulder. I made sure he stayed there and I started singing the song that always calms him down, very quietly and slowly. I didn’t have to hold his head for long. He lay completely still and just relaxed. It may have been the first time that he wasn’t struggling to get down while he bawled, or leaning back. He was completely still, and comforted by my singing and our cuddle. I sang his song at least twice, and just kept walking slow circles around his room.
At this point, I still didn’t know what had happened. He was crying hard before, and I know I heard a bang, but that was it. As I was walking with him, completely sprawled out on me with his face on my shoulder, I noticed that my skin felt different. Tight, maybe, and pulling. When I finally had the nerve to move him from our comfy cuddle, I found a decent amount of blood.
It shocked me. He had never had an injury that caused this much blood. This isn’t a very good picture at all, but it was on both cheeks, his nose, and chin. Of course, he wouldn’t let me near his mouth and I wasn’t going to push and be the reason for more tears, so I assume that he fell in his crib and bit the inside of his mouth somehow. Hard, obviously.
Radisson currently has an advisory up for our water. They’re doing some construction on our water plant and therefore, the water isn’t safe to drink, or really use at all, unless its boiled. Luckily we have a water dispenser thing with hot and cold sides, so I made some warm water in a tupperware container and wiped Dekker’s face clean. I couldn’t see anymore blood coming from anywhere. Thankfully, the mouth is the fastest healing part of the body. However, I knew I couldn’t clean in his mouth without him crying, so maybe it was wrong, but I decided to just give him a good drink of water and hope that counted. Sorry everyone, if that was a bad parenting choice, but I think I would have preferred that had I been in Dekker’s shoes. Or socks. I carried him the entire time we were cleaning up, and he never tried to get away once. He was completely happy to be with me, in my arms, safe. However, when I went into the cupboard to find a sippy cup to fill with water for him, he saw his fruit cups. He has this hilarious sound he makes when he’s excited, mostly about food. Its pretty much just sucking air in and out at warp speed through his teeth, but with a bit of sound behind in. It’s super cute, anyway.
So I walked him around a little bit more until he was feeling a little stronger and a bit less cuddly, and then I plopped him in his chair and gave the little man a fruit cup. And life kept moving. He was completely fine. I probably felt more sad and sick and broken than he did.
I’m sure this is not our last bleeder. But I will do my best to be there for every one.