The boo-boos

It was the Weekend of Minor Accidents at the Fokker’s, y’all. It started out with Stitch twisting her ankle (she is STILL limping) on Thanksgiving Day, which turned out all right for her because she had a Daddy and an uncle who carried her wounded princess butt everywhere. Nevertheless, knowing your baby has an ouchie is no fun.

Stitch’s ankle was too sore to bear her weight on Saturday, but we all wanted to go to Target to buy a small tree for the office window (which faces the street) together instead of sending just one adult, so we took her with us and just settled her into the back of the cart to be ferried around the store. Easy peasy! All was well until we were back at our Odyssey minivan and Sweet Babou picked up his precious daughter … and smacked her face against the vehicle’s raised tailgate. It was a hard, loud thump. My heart stopped.

You see, those pesky panic attacks I suffer from have lately centered on my little Stitch. I am unsure why my brain has singled her out to torture me with, but I’ve seen it before. My mom’s panic attacks usually centered on my youngest brother; she was in mortal dread of him drowning. He is a 32 year old man with a family now, so panic attacks are obviously not premonitions … but they are nonetheless horrifying to experience because you are irrationally terrified that something very bad is going to happen to someone you love very much. I wonder if my panic attacks have zeroed in on Stitch because she reminds me so much of my baby brother? Whatever the reason for her starring in my insanity plays, seeing her face slammed into the edge of a tailgate was Instant Panic Attack, just add urine!

When she started crying my heart started beating again. She was alive. That was good enough for me. I immediately called my Dad (it is so NICE to have an ER doc on call 24/7 for you; I recommend it) and through a quick Q&A he determined that she just needed pain-killers and ice, not a trip to the hospital.

The blow was hard enough to actually break through the skin a little. She has a wee crescent shaped wound right between her eyes. It is pitiful to behold. 

When we had gotten our girls home and made Stitch as comfortable and happy as possible, Sweet Babou and I took turns falling apart. He was beset with guilt, while I was wracked with a panic attack that left me on the bathroom floor in a fetal position begging, “Please pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease God, PLEASE don’t let anything bad happen to my babies.” *sob and repeat*

Apparently I clench my jaw when I am upset. Well, when Stitch got hurt I was so perturbed that I clenched it hard enough to actually break my dental crown in two. It was in twain. Thus I just spent a fun couple of hours at the dentist getting it replaced. Joy.

I have an appointment Wednesday to see someone about the panic attacks. I would be grateful for any good wishes/vibes/prayers y’all would see fit to send me. You can address them to PleaseDon’tLetFokker’sLovedOnesGetHurt @ SeriouslyPleaseGod.com

Thank you.

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About Betty Fokker

I'm a stay-at-home feminist mom.
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8 Responses to The boo-boos

  1. Becky says:

    Love and hugs, Fokker. Hang in there. Stitch will heal up just fine. I hope you’re able to get some help for the panic attacks. <3<3<3

  2. inkgrrl says:

    Oh gods poor babies to all of you! Sounds like nobody’s sinuses are having a good time a Haus O’Fokker…

    FGBVs and love and hugs and all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

  3. Dianne Wing says:

    (((((Good vibrations)))))

  4. Skye says:

    The most radiant FGBVs ever to you and your loved ones, my dear Fokker. You will get what you need and your baby will heal up fine (although maybe she will have an interesting little tiny scar that she can tell people interesting and untrue stories about when she is older). Be well, my dear.

  5. Luna says:

    *hugs* I got nothin’. But I’ll pray. :)

  6. londonmabel says:

    Good God! Well, I can identify–I’ve been in similar fetal like fear break downs for my husband, this year. The only antidote I know of is the simple breathing meditation, where you take deep breaths, and carefully count them off, and just focus on the feeling of breathing. It’s much harder to cry or panic etc when deep breathing.

    And try the book Mindsight by Daniel Siegel, or his other books. They’re just brilliant. About the parts of the brain that can be triggered to calm down the panicky parts of our brains. And he writes parenting advice too (for anxious kids etc.) I think you’d really like him.

    FGBVs!

  7. Robin S. says:

    Oh, man, did I flinch when I read this. I went to slam the tailgate shut on my van once years ago just as my daughter walked around the back of the van. Smacked her right on the head and knocked her sideways. Guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt…. She and her brother have never let me live this down. But she was okay and Stitch will be okay. As for the scar, if she is anything like my two, she will delight in telling everyone how her daddy gave her that scar and tell terrible stories. See, my son has this big scar on the back of his arm from me. I thought he had poison ivy and kept washing it with Simple Green (it helps with poison ivy). He kept telling me it really hurt and didn’t feel like poison ivy. I ignored him. Then when I went to wash it on the second day the tops came off the blisters and I could see down into his arm and freaked. Turns out he had shingles. Guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt…. But he survived and Stitch will survive and this will all be a source of amusement/blackmail/guilt trips to be sent your way. So take deep breaths and think of all the fun they will have at your expense as they get older. (This is supposed to elicit and OMG groan and *headdesk* response to replace the panic attack. :) )

    Many {{{HUGS}}}, good thoughts, and FGBV’s to you. Hope your appointment goes well.

  8. These are a bit late, but big hugs from me too.

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