OUCH!

The inevitable has happened!

Despite keeping a close watch on the little one and doing our best to protect him from falling down and hurting himself, Anton finally tripped and hurt himself. And he has a bump on the forehead to prove it. Shucks!

For those who have been keeping a close tab on the developments of the little one (read: tita laluy, tita nina, my dad and brothers plus a few other relatives), y’all know that walking endlessly is one of his new habits. He rarely wants to be carried nowadays —everytime we try to carry him, he squirms and with that cute little voice, screams “baba! baba!”

Here’s the blow-by-blow of the accident:

Between 2:30 and 3pm, the litte one was making my back ache once again by walking back and forth in the garage, holding an empty little container of wilkins on his right hand ala nag-iigib. I, ofcourse, played the part of a nerbyosang mommy (neophyte at that!) and held on to his tiny left hand to provide more support. Just when we almost reached the grassy part of the garage, he let go of my hand and what I dreaded happened! My little baby tripped and fell flat on his face, his forehead hitting the cement. Ouch!!!

For a nanosecond, he didn’t cry. He pulled himself up and looked at me. He probably saw the dread and fear on my face because immediately after that, he cried so loud that I thought he would waken the dead!! Seriously!

So I quickly picked him up and scrutinized his face, dreading to see blood. Fortunately (Oh God, fortunately indeed), there was no blood on his lips or any part of his face for that matter. But there was a small red bump on his forehead and tears were running down his cheeks.

Joel quickly ran to us and held the baby while I ran for some ice. I wrapped a cube or two into a small cloth and placed it gently on the little bump. All this time, the baby was still crying! And by this time, I was crying myself!! Ha, it was the strangest thing I know but I could not stop myself. My baby got hurt while I was “on duty” and I could not help but feel responsible —with so many “what ifs” running in my head. If only I held on a little bit tighter. If only I kept him from walking in the garage. If only I kept him longer in the crib, playing with his many many toys —this would not have happened. Or would it?

My dad kept assuring me that our little boy would be fine and I guess he was right. After a few more minutes of cuddling and kissing his forehead —as quickly as it started, Anton stopped crying. And get this: wanted to keep walking! Ahh! What to do? What to do? Do i let him walk again despite my well-founded fears?

The answer is obvious, isn’t it? Despite my apprehensions, I played the part of a good mommy and put him back down and watched him walk again. And as I watched him walk with his Daddy holding his perfect, tiny hands, I could not help but think about his future “falls.” I know that in the years to come, Anton will have his fair share of falls —both literally and figuratively. As much as I try to protect him, time will come when I have to let my little one stand independently —hoping against hope that I have taught him all he needs to know to survive all on his own.