What if

So. Things have been relatively normal around here since Friday. Work, daycare, a rare night out to the movies…

It hasn’t been the easiest week. I drive past that bloody path, or nearby it, five or ten times a week, and without fail it makes me feel sick. Sick. I could actually vomit every time I look down on it from the overpass. I am so angry at myself that I couldn’t find a way to direct the ambulance better. I’m annoyed at myself, and, frankly, disappointed, that I wasn’t 100% there for jman, that I feel I lost it in his hour of need. That I couldn’t think up something more sensible to do than shaking him and shouting his name. That all I could think was “this isn’t happening, not “this is happening and you need to do something “.

This stupid dual thinking of being in the moment and outside the moment at the same time, disconnected from myself, from him. Hearing my stupid useless sobs.

I was bloody useless. And what if? What if he’d not started breathing? What then? What if? I think in essence all of this boils down to I am your mother this was very dangerous and to be a good mother I need to control ALL THE THINGS. to feel safe again.

I’ve done what I can since. I’ve complained about the emergency operator, though I haven’t heard squat since it occurred. I’ve notified his family daycare about what happened in case it occurs again.

I’ve booked an 8 night family holiday to the whitsundays (our first proper family holiday), because I’ve had a sudden lightbulb moment that life is bloody short.

I’ve been really frustrated with jman this week. Leaving the house is like trying to run through lava. He’s been waking up really aggressive and cranky (for him), not crazy bad, but just narky and uncooperative. He hates breakfast all of a sudden. And I’ve only just clicked about an hour ago that all of this behaviour might be head injury related. Derr.

After the observations in hospital, they did an ECG etc and everything was fine. The lumpy bump and graze turned into hardly anything at all, not even much of a bruise. They said he had a “reflex anoxic seizure” in response to the pain of the fall. He didn’t come good for a long time after that short (maybe30 second?) seizure. I didn’t recognise it as one at the time, and it was only when the ambulance officer described his son having one that it clicked. It was exactly as he described.

I feel at some times, totally normal.
At some times, I feel skinned. like I am walking around without skin, not just without clothes, without skin. Totally exposed and nothing holding me together. And I feel like there was a gossamer curtain between us and shittsville last Friday, that we only barely stayed on this side of it, that certain disaster is lurking. Because we’ve snatched it back from the brink too many times. IVF, haematomas, bad risks of downs, I feel like it is all back and currently happening all at once, like this has pulled out the drawer of the universes filing system of possible tragic events and they’re all just floating, free form, waiting for somewhere to land. I don’t know if it is possible to be hypervigilant and completely flatly without affect at the same time, but if its possible, that’s me right now.

I also know these thoughts are ridiculous.

It is hard to self care after events like these, when you are a mum. Because he just wants me. He’s clingy. And I feel as though I have an empty tank to start with. So I alternate between moments of really looking at him, thinking oh my god thank god you’re still here and oh my god why are you still here hanging onto my leg?

I’m going to follow up with a GP (dr) visit tomorrow, I think. His crankiness concerns me, as do the uneven pupils I spotted tonight. Another source of sleeplessness for me. The first night, we kept him in our bed so I could poke him and check him all night long. Since then, he’s slept really well, but he’s hard to settle and cranky on waking.

He was so happy over the weekend, though we were dosing him up with Panadol which may have helped. He was funny. His sentence making has made this huge leap this week. We’ve gone from “truck, mummy? Truck in bath?” To “I want the truck in the bath, mummy”. He’s testing out limits, and I can’t tell if the shouty shouty limit testing is “almost 2ness” or “head injury”.

“We don’t speak like that here, jman. We speak nicely to each other.”
“Can I have the ipad please mum, please”.

I find it worse when I can’t see him. When he’s not in my face, I’m on the express train to “What If”, and I feel sick. My chest feels tight.

I’m looking forward to our holiday.


4 thoughts on “What if

    1. Thanks Josey. We went ok at the GP today, she thinks it’s just post concussive stuff, he did wake up shouting again this morning. After speaking to the doctor today, I feel a bit better about feeling so out of control. It was a horrible situation. The experience was horrible. There is no changing that. But I think after talking to a lot of other people about that day, a lot of other mums too, it is ok that I felt so completely freaked out. You never know how you’re going to react to a situation like that, not til it happens. And I think if the really bad phase had continued, a different bit of my brain would have kicked in and done something. And, if it happens again, I’ve made sure anyone that cares for him understands what it looks like and what to do. I know I would do better if it happens again. I think I reacted slower because I didn’t understand what was occurring. I didn’t know he wasn’t breathing til he breathed again. I didn’t recognise it as a seizure until it was described to me. Yes, I feel exposed, and I now realise how much you have “at stake” when you love another person like you love your child. But I think I’ve got to keep saying it is ok to feel crap about it, to be fearful of it happening again, and it’s ok if it takes me a while to get over it.

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