I made a rookie mistake this morning and Jack ended up rolling off the side of Nate's bed and landing square on his back / back of his head. He lost his mind, and so did I.
I was in no condition to drive, and I just didn't know what to do, so I called 911 and they sent a firetruck and ambulance (in DC they just send one of everything!) Too bad Nate was at school; he would have enjoyed all of the firemen in our house.
They were incredibly kind, attentive, and helpful. They decided they wanted him seen at Children's Hospital, so we took our first ambulance trip. The firemen locked up the house for me, carried my bags, and were generally amazing.
Long story short, Jack looked to be fine. By the time the doctor saw us, he was smiling at her and charming the nurses. We got home and Jack took a nap. I kept checking on Jack and watching his little chest go up and down. He wass fine, but I felt like someone hooked up a hose to me and sucked out every bit of energy I had. Two hours of self-flagellation will do that, I guess. It hurts enough when one of my boys is hurting; to have let it happen in such a stupid way makes me so mad at myself. I know "things happen" but it's just so much worse when they're preventable.
Tonight I got him ready for bed as usual, but he didn't fall asleep while he was drinking his bottle. I gave him his pacifier and kept him cuddled against me, and we rocked in the glider together. His eyes would drift closed, and then open again, and we just relaxed together in the dark.
Love you, Jack.