Little H: the superhero

I was not planning on writing about this, but perhaps it helps.

I came across a blog from someone who has had a similar experience, and when I started writing her a comment, I could not stop writing. It all came back. So here’s a story I was not planning to tell:
Let me start with that we have a new superhero in town. Her name is Little H. She moves faster than the light, is more flexible than the most flexible yoga practitioner, is definitely smarter than her mum and stronger than Pippi Longstockings.

It was a Wednesday. We were to go cross-country with Granny B and Granddad G with Little H in her sledge for the first time. It was time to prepare. We went down to the bathroom to change into more wintry clothes.
I do not know exactly how it happened. Little H was at the bench on top of the mat we use for changing her. She was her usual slippery snake-like H, twisting and turning around on the mat. For a brief moment I did not pay attention. One second she was on top of the mat, the next she was lying on the stone tiles below.


My first thought was that I had killed my daughter (I had not, she is her healthy self again) I did not panic. I took her up and into my chest stroking her back while she was grasping for air. I went to find my phone, called my mum. Why on earth did I call my mum? Well, I guess that is what you do whatever age you are when things go horribly wrong. Luckily the call did not go through and I came to my senses and dialed the emergency number, all the time stroking Little H, who was grasping for air, pale and in pain.

I thought I was on the phone for 90 minutes before the ambulance came, later when I checked the length of the call it was 17 minutes. It was the longest 17 minutes of my life. The voice on the other end of the phone calmed me down, told me to continue stroking Little H, keep her close, her airways free, just to continue doing what I was already automatically doing. I was running on autopilot.

Little H started crying, and crying is a good sign in situations like these I. So I cried too. I cried and cried competing with the sounds of Little H. The ambulance came and the paramedics assured me that she was ok, but that it was best to take her to the hospital and get her properly checked.

In the ambulance I called Pappa Kas, and told him what had happened. Then I called my mum. I have never seen Little H so lifeless while awake. When she smiled a couple of hours later I knew that she was fine. She has the most beautiful cheeky smile I have ever seen. We were discharged from the hospital after a few hours. Everything was fine. Little H was without even so much as a bruise.

I have heard that this has happened to other mums. At the hospital several nurses told me similar stories. Everyone has reassured me that these things can happen to anyone, so I just need to let it go and not blame myself.

Pappa Kas told me that this is probably only one of many small accidents Little H will have. She will fall down stairs and get bruises. She will break a rib or two while snowboarding and she will probably drink from a colorful bottle found in the cupboard where we keep our cleaning products.

But Little H is our strong superhero, and now I just need to strengthen up as well.