I woke up this morning at 2:41am. To be exact. And I saw up in bed. Which is completely unlike me b/c normally I hit the pillow late and don’t move until Chris or a kid starts poking me between 6-7am. But this morning I just woke up.
So I checked the monitor to make sure it wasn’t Gray, and then I tucked Bailey back in b/c she always kicks off her covers and then huddles in a chilly little ball. Then I stood there for a second and got back in bed where Parker was snuggled between C and I having had a bad dream early in the night. I put my hand on her head just to make sure my Mommy instincts weren’t in full force because of her.
But all was fine.
And yet I couldn’t sleep.
So I started thinking about the business but nothing was bothering me about that. I checked email on my phone and all was quiet. I laid there and my mind couldn’t find anything that was out of place.
For an hour I tossed and turned.
So unlike me.
And then my mind finally settled. And my heart hurt when it finally landed on a concrete reason to worry, because it felt like I was worrying but I couldn’t figure out what I was worried about.
The image my mind softly landed on was Parker’s face during her first seizure at home. Her little mouth open and drooling. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her muscles straining with each lunge of her body.
And I just stood there, above her, taking it in.
I didn’t grab her up or cuddle her or even attempt to touch her.
I watched her body move out of it’s own control and was just an observer.
It’s something I can’t do again, no do-overs here. Obviously a situation I never want to be in again. But I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself for being so removed from her.
As a mom you’re in the trenches with your kids. From day one you get pooped and peed on. Your shirt always has spit-up dried on it somewhere. Your hair is pulled, your fingers are chew toys and bugger pickers and drool wipers. When your kids are sick you hold them. When they can’t sleep you rock them. You are there with them giving your body, heart and soul to them.
And so I can’t figure out why my mommy instinct wasn’t to touch her.
And it kinda breaks my heart I left her alone during that moment in her life.
Not that she’ll ever remember.
But I will.
And apparently it will haunt me. Her little face, so wild and out of control. Burned in my memory.