Friday morning Cali and I had a hot shower. Ella was buried deep in My Little Ponies and tiny little plastic brushes-- so she was occupied. After drying off and dressing (including socks) and brushing our hair I scooped up Cali while singing "Once There was a Snowman" and took one step off our stairs.
Except my socked foot never really caught hold of that step and I instantly felt my entire body lift off the floor. I was falling and all I could do was grip my baby and wait for impact. I landed hard on the right side of my back, the same side that I was still holding Cali on. I could NOT breath.
I let go of my screaming baby and crawled from my crumpled pile on the stairs to the top where I stayed for the next 30 minutes.
When I could get air again, I text my (on his way to becoming a doctor) brother and asked him what broken ribs would feel like and what they would require to fix. Oh-the-pain.
I had just spent a good 20 minutes on Sunday morning laughing my head off at Kaden who had slid down the stairs on a hurried scamper to not be late for church and now I had done the same thing only I was holding another human being AND I hurt myself. Not to mention Scott who tripped over that last step for the first three mornings of living here.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH US?
We are clearly not stair people.
So I hobbled my way through Friday coming to full on tears a few times at the inconvenience and the gripping pain. By night I was barely hanging on. Branson, who has a gift for sensing hurt in others, was constantly at my side. Helping me balance, getting me whatever I needed and when I couldn't take it anymore--helping me into bed.
I had some weird reaction to the pain that night and had started to shake. Branson crawled in bed beside me and tucked my blankets in and rubbed my arm. In the dark I could hear him sniffling. I asked him what was wrong but he would only answer, "nothing."
He gripped my hand tighter and sniffled a little longer and then got up to sneak out. In the morning I found that Branson had done all of the dinner dishes and picked up all the laundry from the bedrooms.
There are so many days that I question my ability to Mother Branson in the way that he needs. He has a one in a million personality and is very strong willed. He does things and says things that take parenting from hard to daunting. But every now and then throughout his life, I have been given the chance to see him the way Heaven sees him. I get a glimpse on these special days of what he really is and what he can really become.
And it is amazing. I literally stand in awe at his gifts. And I am so thankful that Heaven chose me to be his Mom.