We have got an extended wooden wall stretched around our bed to stop him from falling. He likes to play with that fence. Hold it and stand up. He would stand and then fall back on bed when he gets tired.
Yesterday, he fell and his forehead hit the fence. He has hurt his head many times, but every time it has been slight. When kids play, they tend to get hurt once in a while. And, he’s in that age when he’ll just not sit still. He has to keep doing something or the other. He wouldn’t stay in your lap or arms. He just wants to get out and do something on his own. He is so fierce at it that he will force himself out of your hold, if he wants to. So, we had let him be and stretched the fence. (It’s installed through hinges so we can remove it when we wish to, and stretch it at night.)
Yesterday, when he hurt himself, he cried loud, he cried for long. His crying, I’ve still got okay with. But, the wound. Ohhh! The wound hit me hard. I can’t explain how much it was hurting me. The hit left him with a blue scar on his forehead. My MIL and FIL kept calming me down while tending to him. But, it felt like nothing could console me. I couldn’t stop the tears. I couldn’t stop the hurt it was causing me.
They say that the scar will go away in a day or two. And, it will not hurt him coz we’ve put the machine oil on it, which is considered best for such wounds. But, I think it’ll take me more than that to heal.
This has been his second major wound in this one month. Last time, in Hyderabad, I had fallen with him in my arms. And, his head had hit the lift’s pavement. Straight on his head. Ohh! Everything had gone blur in front of my eyes. I had forgotten my wound. I just knew he’s hurt. It’s great that the people around us were so caring that they helped us right away. But, a wound is a wound. And, when it is on your child’s body rather than yours, trust me, it hurts ten times more. I can understand it now.
I remember when I had snipped his nail a bit more while cutting his nails. He hadn’t cried or anything but I felt jitters for almost 10 minutes.
I better get used to it. Now, with him growing up, such things are normal. Let’s see how long it takes me to get normal to them. God, now I know, why they call it blood relations and what they mean by motherly love. More than the blood, it’s a piece of my soul running in him. Before he feels anything, I feel it. And, it’s not vice versa.