Posts Tagged ‘ouch’

They say that you learn something new every day.

On Tuesday I learned that there is no parenting book in the world that prepares you for the sheer terror you feel when your 15-month-old takes a header down the stairs.

My heart rate sped up just typing that sentence.

In that instant, as I saw N lose his balance, tip head first down the (thankfully carpeted) stairs, and hit every step as he log-rolled down, I forgot everything I’d ever been taught about staying calm in a crisis.

I screamed and cried and screamed some more. I’m sure I scared both the dog and the baby (and likely Husband, who was just about to get in the shower). And I ran like hell down the stairs to pick N up and start feeling for broken bones.

Luckily, Husband was right behind me, because my shaky hands and tear-filled eyes were not the most effective at that point.

Now, more than 48 hours later, N is fine. Hell, he was fine less than an hour later, albeit with a Harry Potter-esque scratch on his forehead.

I, however, am still feeling the mom guilt of having that fall happen on my watch. I felt helpless and terrified and panicky. And if I think about it too much, I still feel all of those things.

I was a little worried that N would be scared of the stairs from here on out – I know I’m scared of him on the stairs. But he’s not. In fact, he wants to come down them like a big boy now, holding hands with someone and walking down like a little adult.

Something tells me that there will be more tumbles in our future. I just hope my heart can handle it.

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For weeks – months, even – everyone has asked me the same question: how are you feeling?

And once I got out of the first trimester, my answer was always the same: I feel surprisingly great!

I could feel myself getting bigger, but I could still see my toes.

I could feel slight aches and pains in my hips, but nothing unbearable.

I could feel my body changing in all sorts of ways, but I could also feel the little human inside of me practicing his tumbling routine, so everything was worth it.

And it’s still worth it, but I don’t feel surprisingly great right now.  Or rather, my teeth don’t.

I’d been warned by friends that babies take calcium, and some women are more prone to cavities and bleeding gums when they’re pregnant. So when my gums started bleeding more during brushing, I accepted that.

I was not, however, prepared for the type of nerve damage that necessitates a root canal. In two teeth.

But that is precisely what happened today.

I have had one root canal in my life, and I barely remember it. But I’m told I gave the dentist a kiss on the way out, so it can’t have been that bad.

There was no kiss today.

There was pain and drilling and numbing and crying (not necessarily in that order). And now there’s the anxious anticipation of the two follow-up appointments, so they can finish what they’ve started.

On the one hand, I’ll be grateful when I can chew again.

On the other, this is really not the way I wanted to start off my week.

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Whenever I have any sort of doctor’s appointment, I always try to make it early in the morning. I like to get it over and done with and go on with my day.

On today’s agenda? The dentist. A routine cleaning and…a filling. *eeek!*

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the dentist is my least favorite of any type of doctor. Yes, even the lady bits doctor. His tools look (and feel) like torture devices; he’s NOT gentle; and I end up getting all drooly. And that’s just for the cleaning.

For the filling – my first in a long LONG time – he had to bust out the drill.

On the plus side, they numbed me up a bit and let me listen to my iPod.

On the minus side, I could still hear AND feel the drill digging into my tooth. (I’m cringing even as I write this. I re-feel it every time I think about it.)

After what felt like an eternity of scraping, poking, and drilling, the dentist finished up and he said, “Well, that was the quickest and easiest filling I’ve done in a while.

Good grief. If that was quick and easy, I don’t ever want it to be long and hard.*

*I know.

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Not in the mood

Dear God,

What the fuck.

I am not your cosmic joke – please stop treating me as such. It’s just plain mean.

So mad at you right now,


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I may be 23, but today I feel like this:


Actually, I was going for feeling like the old lady, but maybe it’s more accurate to say that I feel like the dead mouse on the ground. That she’s stabbing with her cane.

I’m thinking it’s a mix between the race yesterday, and the fact that I was so exhausted that I passed out last night around 7:30pm, fully clothed, practically sitting up, yet still somehow lying on something that did NOT do good things to my neck/back.

Clearly, my life is really hard.

What does a girl have to do to get her own personal masseur?

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