After being bitten on the boob more times than I can remember.
After her giant noggin smashed my nose in so hard I heard the cartilage crunch…on several mornings.
After I broke my fourth toe on my left foot from tripping over the flotsam and jetsam of our lives. And then stubbed the same toe on her toy a week later.
After not sleeping for the last year and a half, my efforts at comfort rebuffed with ear piercing wails.
Not to mention the tinnitus from said shrieking.
And not even counting those things which shall not be named…the TMI body changes that accompanied pregnancy and labor.
After all of that, it took one horrible, nasty head bonk on a hallway shelf, while sweeping, to erase the damage of the past 20 months.
I came crashing to the floor, swearing like a sailor, looking like Wile E. Coyote as stars circled my head and a giant lump emerged through my hair, blood slowly oozing. I sat, stunned, waiting for the rocket fire to cease while Jeff came running down the hall. And then, there was a little cry of alarm at my side. Fern pressed in close, patting my arm, pulling my hand away from my head. “I just had a big bonk on my head,” I told her. “You know what that’s like, don’t you? You’ve had big head bonks.”. She looked at me with wide eyed concern and nodded her head, that yes, she does indeed know how it can be.
She spent the next hour replaying the scenario for me, complete with sound effects for the bonk, and little gentle pats all around my head, checking the progress of my recovery. When she found the rate of my healing too slow, she proceeded to cover the top of my head with kisses, trying to speed things up. There were also copious amounts of comforting hugs.
And that friends, is how any and all suffering endured since September of ’09 was completely erased yesterday. In its place is the look of pure empathy and care that poured out of my daughter’s eyes when her sleep deprived mommy didn’t watch where she was going.
Those kisses were made of the purist alchemical gold. I would smash my head open daily for just the smallest dose.
But we’re still taking down the damn shelf.