Mastery of Motherhood

Before Jack has even had a chance to see her, I nearly broke the baby.

After a sleepless night filled with the fun effects of baby acid reflux, I pulled Quinn out of her crib and onto my chest so she might sleep for an hour before I had to wake up.

When the phone rang just after dawn, I smiled knowing it was Jack calling with his latest coordinates as he journeys back for his two-week break from war. While trying not to stir Quinn, I slowly slid out of my bed and lumbered towards the phone.

The next few seconds play painfully slowly in my mind. . .

As bizarre as it sounds, it wasn't until I was standing that it became apparent that not just one, but both of my legs were completely asleep and not under my control.

This kind of freakish thing should only happen in a dream where I'm embodying various physical realities -- a winged creature that soars in and out of scenes, or an Olympic high-jumper who pivots about different planets defying the precepts of physics.

Just as my body gave way to gravity, it became clear my dreams had concluded and I was in a waking nightmare.

As if watching a frame by frame replay of the Twin Towers collapsing, I saw the room pass my eyes as my legs crumpled, and the weight of my body toppled to the floor. Arms wrapped around Quinn, I held her tightly until I hit the floor. The force with which I and the ground met propelled Quinn right out of my arms.

Her body a mere object of physics, Quinn was launched into the air and then -- to my absolute horror -- she bounced upon the wooden floor.

People joke that kids are made of rubber, but I can't form with words how ghastly a sight it was to see my little girl's body literally bounce on the floor.

Startled out of her slumber, Quinn awoke with a scream that lasted only a matter of seconds. I scrambled with my dysfunctional legs to scoop her up and see if I had indeed broken the baby.

With her head and limbs all in tact, I tearfully professed to Quinn that I'd never let something so stupid happen again.

When I brought Quinn to the doctor, my head was so fuzzy with fears of how I may have hurt her that I managed to back into my parents' car, just to put another (far more minor) dent in the day.

Thankfully, it was confirmed that all was fine with Quinn. In fact, the pediatrician quipped that her birth was far more traumatic than a few inch fall to the floor.

Nonetheless, I can't help but feel my competency and mastery of motherhood to be seriously lacking . . . and just hope she is in one piece by the time her Daddy gets here.

Better tales next time,

The (Literally) Bouncy Baby Girl and Her Moronic Mother