More Falls Than Humpty Dumpty
My latest blog is inspired by the nursery rhyme, but thankfully unlike all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, we do put Humpty aka our small human warrior, back together again.
Being a parent is a responsible role — our key ‘job’ is to guide and nurture our little ones through life to the best of our ability. But sometimes that ability, whether we like it or not, is called into question.
I have just returned from a lovely weekend break in a town called Paynesville, or as I now refer to it ‘Painsville’, in the Gippslands Lakes region of Victoria, Australia.
After an epic evening meal out with the family (highly recommended Sardine Eatery & Bar if you ever head to Paynesville) we strolled back to our holiday home, watching Galah’s fly around, the sun finally cooling down. There was the usual navigating of Louis, a bit like herding sheep; steer clear of the road, the parked cars, watch the step — you know, the classics.
Then we found a secret pathway leading to our riverside house. A 200m stretch of secluded gravel path, ‘run free’ we shouted and like baby penguins approaching the water for the first time, Louis and his cousin waddled, skipped and jumped for joy.
Then just as the lyrics of Matt Monro’s Born Free was buzzing in my head (YouTube it, you might like it) Louis came crashing down, well actually it was a pretty standard trip and fall, but if we had a slow-mo camera on it would have seemed more dramatic. I didn’t rush to his aid, assuming he would just bounce right back up, brush his hands and continue on his quest, as per usual.
But when I went over to him, having realised he was not getting up, I was met by what can only be described as a third head — dun dun duuuuuuun — a massive blue lump had instantly formed. It had a thick line going down the middle and his nose was bleeding. Louis had managed to trip and fall on a metal floor grate, the only one on this path. His face was like an etch-a-sketch or one of those pin impression toys. The grid lines were clear.
I’m sure most parents can relate that when your little one gets hurt you feel a massive sense of blame. How did we not protect them from this? What magic wand can I wave to take the pain away?
James and I usually fall into two very distinct characters in these situations. I am calm on the surface but just simmering underneath is a frantic, emotional and clueless mess, on the brink of crying my eyes out at any moment and second-guessing every bit of medical knowledge I have. James on the other is much more vocal, the parental guilt of the situation turning into rage and panic but underneath he actually thinks quite rationally.
As a team we then face the usual dilemma.
Does he need hospital? Is there a local medical centre? Should we phone a health advice hotline?
We reached our holiday home a few minutes later; Louis was already back to his usual self wanting to run around. He looked like he had done a few rounds in the ring, but it clearly looked worse then how it felt.
James touched his nose and there was no wincing so we assumed it couldn’t be broken.
We shone a light in his eyes to check for concussion. His pupils constricted so that was a good sign.
We got a freezer block to place on the wound. Louis batted it away.
We then put ice cubes in a tea towel. Louis batted it away.
Final resort; a wet flannel that had been placed in the freezer; I mean who wouldn’t like a refreshing flannel on their forehead at the end of what had been a very hot Aussie summer day… oh that would be Louis. He batted it away. Sod it. We gave up.
We consulted our friend Google who backed up our decision to just monitor him. No need to rush to A&E. Thank God.
It just proves that no matter how much we want to wrap our little ones in bubble wrap it is pretty much impossible to protect them at all times. Of course we can try our best, but the reality is that at some point, on their road to exploring the big wide world, our children will hurt themselves.
Unfortunately for me, all of Louis’ more memorable injuries have been on his head — which makes it so much worse as its on full display for everyone. It’s like waving a sign saying “yes, I took my eye off my child for 2 seconds” or “look at me I did something really idiotic!”. I have always felt that every bruise comes with judgement, people make light hearted references like “oh, what’s Louis like”, but behind closed doors they are probably whispering about how awful we are (semi-joking …I hope they aren’t).
It’s even worse when the nurse at A&E makes a joking comment about social services — yes, this really happened!
Let me run through the other 3 major head bumps:
Incident 1 — Eye Spy With My Little Eye — 14 February 2018
The first head injury was when Louis was 12 ½ months old. He had recently started walking and on this occasion was following me around my bedroom. James was clearing out a cupboard, stood on a chair and I was next to him, probably giving him clear instructions of what I wanted him to do (I like to micro-manage). Louis was next to me, and looking back it was getting a bit squashed with some of the clothing items lying around the floor that had fallen from the wardrobe. One second Louis was standing against the chair and the next he had fallen on the floor catching his eye on the corner of the chair on the way down.
Suddenly at that moment, what felt like a harmless situation seemed completely moronic. Why did I let him stand there in that confined space, an easy trip hazard? James started panicking. I was just trying to work out what, if any, injury he had sustained. He had a little bruise at the corner of his eye — James and I stared in shock, then as if we couldn’t feel any worse, a little blood blister that had formed popped and he was bleeding!
Ahhhhhhhh. Hysterical parents alert. Grab child, milk, nappy bag, bung in car and drive straight to A&E.
The waiting room was a grim experience, with an overtired baby who needed his bed, a dilapidated child’s area with a few toys that looked like a bacterial health hazard and an array of oddities entering A&E with different symptoms. Luckily Louis was fine; he was checked over by a doctor and a nurse administered a tiny bit of glue to help the cut heal neatly. We were home a few hours later.
Incident 2 — Banging Bath Time — 19 May 2018
The second occasion was a few months later when Louis was 15 ½ months old, and it was a situation that once again in hindsight was just plain silly. James was getting a nice warm, well lukewarm, bubble bath ready for Louis, ahead of his bedtime. Louis was excited waiting at the side, cheering on the bubbles that were forming beneath the tap. James was starting to undress Louis, when his head (which is on the rather large side) got stuck in his t-shirt. With a big tug the t-shirt came off but in return, Louis’ head catapulted forward into the side of the bath. Ouch. Screaming and panic followed. Louis’ eyelid had slit open. Again grab child, milk, nappy bag, bung in car and drive straight to A&E whilst judging ourselves for being the WORST PARENTS EVER!
Again much of the same; Louis was overtired, we had a few random conversations with some of the A&E outpatients and this time he engaged with a few of the sticky, half broken toys. We finally saw a doctor and were given a leaflet on spotting signs of head injury and concussion. The nurse this time didn’t administer any glue as Louis was at a wriggly age and it could have done more harm then good.
It should heal naturally.
Phew.
It was as we were leaving the hospital, feeling drained and sheepish again, that the nurse shouted in a jovial manner “next time we will have to call social services”. What the f**k? James and I looked at each other, pretend laughed at the nurse, then bolted through the doors as quickly as possible like we had been tarnished. I mean she was joking right???? More beating ourselves with the crap parenting stick!
Incident 3 — Something Blue for a wedding — 24 July 2018
We were staying at a beautiful cottage in a little town called Atlow in Derbyshire ahead of my sister-in-laws wedding, Louis was just under 18 months old. The living area stretched the whole length of the cottage; it lay on the first floor giving views of the surrounding rolling hills. At the end of the living room was a gorgeous wooden bench with cushions depicting blue and green flowers from the garden. Who would have thought this peaceful space would turn into a nightmare when Louis tripped and head-butted it face first! What a wallop. The bruise took a little while to come out, just in time for my sister-in-laws big day. All dressed in his smart shorts and shirt and to match a big black and blue eye — it was a more unconventional something blue, but hey it was an unconventional type of wedding so we just embraced the look.
The only other major injury I recall was a deep scratch on his back, but I will save this story for a blog probably entitled along the lines of — “When fun and spontaneous ends in misery and disaster” or “when you wish you hadn’t bothered”.
I don’t actually consider myself a bad parent. I am of course extremely caring, and I never want Louis to come to any harm, but shit just happens. We cannot be there every split second of a day and even if we could, what would we be teaching our children? That they need to be hand held and mollycoddled through life? That the world is so scary that they just need to cling to someone who has already explored it and hide behind them? A few bumps and bruises is what sculpt us. In adulthood we re-teach ourselves that we learn more from our mistakes then our successes. A child who falls and bumps his knee, learns to pick himself up, dust him or herself off and carry on. They don’t dwell on it. They don’t let it hinder them. So often they get straight back up and repeat the very same action. Its actually very inspiring and I realise in writing this that it is an important part of their development and something that would be great if we never forget this ability.
I am in no way saying we should encourage our children to fall over or hurt themselves, for me it’s more about realising that if it happens, it’s ok. Deal with the situation, trust that deep inside you always have your little ones best interest at heart, and feel confident that its just a little blip in their life’s journey helping to carve them into the great little person they are destined to become.
