I nicked the baby’s thumb yesterday while cutting his nails. He had been happy and smiley and bam! he started wailing as soon as it happened. I didn’t cry then because I knew I needed to soothe him and make sure his finger was okay. I had to keep my emotions in check.
I immediately picked him up to try to soothe him and calm him down. I knew he was in pain because he was whimpering, frowning and letting out small cries even after wailing. I then cried because I felt absolutely horrible.
After he calmed down, I cleaned his (little) cut with water and fed him. He fell asleep in my arms shortly after. He’s laying in my arms as I write this.
It was my first time crying with him. I didn’t cry when he wailed during his newborn blood test when they squeezed blood out of the sole of his tiny foot. Or when he wailed during his newborn doctor visits because the last thing he wanted was to be naked (to be weighed) in a cold office and was hungry. Those times, he wasn’t crying because of me, though. This time, however, was my fault.
As I sit here with him in my arms, I realize this is a common occurrence among parents and that it might very well not be the last time I unintentionally hurt him–though I hope it is. I realize it was an accident. And that it doesn’t make me a bad mom.
Neither does feeding him formula because I was unable to successfully breastfeed.
Neither does having to get a C-section because I wasn’t able to deliver him naturally.
Neither does having to return to work next month to help provide for him.
I love him with my entire being. I’d give my life for him. I’m doing the best I can to be the best for him. And I think that makes me a darn good, if not great, mom.
