The Fall

Here's a story I want to forget, but can't.

Last November, when Sis was 19 months old, she fell down our entire flight of stairs. Backwards. Head first. No carpet. And I saw the whole thing happen.

It was about 4:30 in the afternoon, I was trying to get Buddy and Sis to put their coats on so we could get out for a bit. I went into the kitchen, grabbed Sis's coat, and went into the living room only to see her at the top of the steps. She took her hand off the banister, reached for the next section of handrail, but missed. Her head kept going back until it thudded against the wooden steps. I screamed. Thud, scream, thud, scream, thud, scream as she bounced her way down 14 steps. There were no flips, no twists or turns, just thuds and screams, thuds and screams, until finally, finally, she landed in a heap at the bottom of the steps. Knowing I probably shouldn't pick her up for fear of possible back/neck injuries, I scooped her up anyway. Now where is that cordless phone? (I'll by a regular one tomorrow.) 9-1-1. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. I kid you not that it rang 8 times. 8. Times. Before anyone picked up. Is she bleeding? He asked. Well, no. Is that her crying in the background? Yeah, that's her. Well she's probably OK then, don't you think? I don't know, dude, that's why I'm calling you! Policeman arrives at the door, does a quick once over and by now Sis has calmed down and actually seems to be enjoying the attention. Momma however is still gasping with guilt and fear with adrenaline pumping through her already pregnant veins. Fire trucks. Ambulances. Calming, they're here now. Open the door, EMTs in uniform. A face: my hero neighbor, my mommy friend's husband, Buddy's friend's Daddy, this familiar face and my tears begin again. He holds my baby and she's OK, he says, she's OK as he helps me get a just fine Sis into my new our-family-is-growing mini-van. Just take her to the pediatrician, easier than going to the hospital.

Still no answer from Hubs, how I need to talk to Hubs. Kind next door neighbor takes Buddy to play, don't feed him, he's allergic to peanuts, I say. So it's just crying me and song-singing Sis in the car, but nothing from Hubs. Answer the phone! Pick up! What if I were in labor? I need you, Hubs! And finally he answers. Sweet, calming words. It's OK, baby, just calm down, baby, it's OK. She's OK. I'll be right home. . .

Enter the pediatrician's office, kind faces, Are you OK, Mommy? She's fine, just like a ping pong ball. She's fine. You're fine. Go home, I'm OK, no more tears, even breathing, it's over now. I love you, Sissy. I'm sorry, Sissy. I see Hubs for the first time, he hugs me tight and knowing, and I melt in his arms as the tears come back to share.

OK, so this post totally went in a direction I hadn't intended. It was on my mind because this afternoon I found a now more stair-wise sister Humpty Dumptying on top of the safety ate at the bottom of our stairs, balancing herelf on the narrow metal bar, swinging her mosquito-scabbed legs with pride over fetching Sausie from her crib "all by herthelf".