Aug 16 2006


Yesterday, at daycare, Cole climbed backwards out of his sling chair, which he was firmly strapped into, and fell out and landed on his face on the tile.

I have mixed feelings about it. On one side, I feel like screaming “You lazy fucking neglectful abusive BITCH!” and on the other side I realize, hey- it could have happened while he was under my care, too. Shit happens. Babies get bumps and bruises and it’s usually their own fault. I’m not going to put Cole into situations that I know are in any way dangerous, but I can’t protect him from every ache and pain, either.

It’s tough. You want to always be there for your baby, to protect, nurture, and show him you love him every minute. But it doesn’t work that way. I’m not ready to give that up, but I have to. He’s growing up so fast.

Cole will be fine. It looked for a little while that he might get a shiner, but this morning the bruise color had faded considerably. I’m not really mad at his daycare lady; I know she would die before she let any of her babies come to any real harm. She loves them completely, as if they were her own. I trust her and I don’t worry when Cole is there.

But it was still just a little bit harder to hand Cole over this morning.