We lasted about seven months before we finally heard it: the oh-shit thump. I had set you down in the middle of our super king-sized bed, turned my back to you for all of ten seconds, and the next thing I know, you fell off and bumped your head. Clearly, I underestimated your ability to roll.
While you were in the middle of your five-second long wail, your mother and I both rushed over to see what had happened. My heart was busy skipping a couple of beats as I picked you up. That, to me, seemed like a natural reaction. Your mother, on the other hand, was already teary-eyed!
You didn’t cry for more than a few seconds, so one would assume you were okay, but man, I felt so bad. I still feel bad, but those next couple of hours after it happened, I had that sinking feeling in my stomach – the same feeling I get when I know I’ve done something wrong. This was amplified by the fact that your mother had been verbally jumping up and down to try and get me to help her come up with a solution to prevent the very thing that had happened. “We need to get bed-rails or something so baobao doesn’t fall off the bed,” she’d say.
“He’s not going to fall off the bed. He barely moves. He can’t even crawl.”
“Oh my god, I’m like always so stressed out when I have to pee and leave him for like 30 seconds because he gets so close to the edge.”
And I would always conclude with a “Nah, I’m sure we still have a couple of weeks before we have to worry about anything.” Whoops.
Between the moment you fell and the next afternoon, I got four “I’m not saying I told you so, but I told you so” reminders from your mother. Even without her mentioning it, I was so consumed with your fall I even measured how far you fell (16 inches, but it definitely felt more like three feet) so I could sort of rationalize that maybe you didn’t lose too many brain cells. The next evening, we ended up rearranging our bedroom AGAIN (feels like we do this every week). This time, we lowered your crib and removed the legs of our bed frame so that our mattress is effectively on the floor.
If not this time, I’m sure it would’ve happened at some later point. I still feel bad, but I’m getting over it. What I can’t get over is the reason why I put you on the bed and turned my back to you – it wasn’t an urgent call to use the bathroom or or turn off running water…I thought I would try and wipe some of the cigar smell off my arms with a wet wipe!