Hurts So Bad.

So, I’ve posted it on Facebook, and Twitter, and Instagram.

It is no secret that Ronan fell out of his car seat on to the ground and smashed his face.

But… I feel like it’s necessary for me to write a blog post about this, because I feel like there is a ton of misunderstanding that I don’t feel like correcting on a one-to-one basis.

Ronan fucks around instead of getting into his car seat.  He does it EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  He pushes buttons.  He climbs into the front seat.  He picks things up off of the floor and eats them.  Seriously.  He never, ever gets into his seat and does up his buckles on the first try.

So, when I opened his car door, I put my hand on the seat, and on the buckles.  They were warm but not burning.  I had already started the van, and the air was blowing on his seat.  Ronan was carrying his “treat” from the store – a head lamp (flashlight you wear on a strap on your head) for his visual occupational therapy.  He was told to get into his seat and do his buckles, just like every other time.  And just like EVERY OTHER TIME, he fucked around.  He wanted to open his head lamp.  He didn’t want to get into his seat and do up his buckles.  From across the car, I was buckling Ruby in and watched as he sat on his knees, facing backwards, both hands on his head lamp.  I heard him say, “Mama, seat hot!  It’s hurting me!” when I snapped, “Jesus Christ, Ronan just get in your seat and do up your buckles.  I will open the flashlight for you when you’re sitting.”

He tried to turn around.  He leaned forward to turn around, but he wouldn’t take his hands off of the damn headlamp.  I heard him scream, watched as his little feet went flying up in the air.  I heard him hit, and I heard the crying start before I was halfway around the car. I reached him and scooped him up as he STILL had the STUPID headlamp grasped tightly in both hands.  He didn’t even let go to catch his fall.  He didn’t have a single scratch on him, anywhere, except on his face.  I can ONLY IMAGINE how he landed.

I posted on Facebook that it was my “Worst Mother Day Ever.” and have received a ton of varying comments about how I’m not a bad mom, and how “it happens”, “get used to it,” blah blah blah.  This is what I feel like I need to clairify:

I do not feel like a bad mom.  It was not my fault.  I couldn’t have prevented it, and he will be fine.  I know all of these things.

But my heart, dear readers.  My heart hurts for him.  For his little heart, and his poor head, and the words, “Mama, I fell.  I fell… hurt myself.  It hurts so bad mama.  Mama, it hurts so bad.”  Those words stab my center.  They make me cry.  I would do anything – ANYTHING – to take his pain away, to rewind time and make it not happen, to make him feel better.  To see him smile.  And every time I think about his poor, sad, broken spirit, and how awful I remember it feels to be hurt that badly, I cry again.

And every time I cry, he hugs me and says, “I sooooo sorry, mama.  Mama, I so sorry.  It was an accident.”  Because he can’t bear to see me upset.  Because he feels bad that it happened.  Because he needs to see his mama smile as much as I need to see him smile.

I am not a bad mom.  I do not feel guilty.  Yesterday was my worst mother day ever because it is a day that I will never forget.  His boo boo will heal, and he will forget the pain, but I will never, EVER forget hearing his plea, “It hurts so bad mama.  Make boo boo go away, please mama please.”

Picture taken immediately after fall to see if Brock thought we should go to the ER.

Several hours later, a “bean-bain” fixes all boo boos.