One has not fully grasped the joys or more accurately heartbreak of parenthood until witnessing 4 grown women struggling to hold down your one year old as she repeatedly grapples her way out of their attempts to restrain her. This is how I spent last night.
I'm still pretty frazzled from the whole experience this afternoon and not sure whether I should be really proud or terrified of her strength and spirit.
Her drive to fight and keep trying to escape from a total of 8 hands, arms and two huge sheets wrapping her like a burrito was extraodinary, along the lines of Beatrix Kiddo, Sidney Bristow or Buffy. She's a grappler, for sure. I know this from changing her diaper many many times a day and breaking a sweat each time, even in the depths of winter. She vigorously took on these unexpecting ladies and gave them quite a challenge. The whole scene was borderline sickening to my mom eyes. But to my derby eyes it was beyond inspiring.
I recognized one move she was attempting in her escape and warned them she was headed for the edge of the table quicker than they could blink. I don't know if they didn't believe me but it was after she executed that one that they called in the fourth nurse. It was as if she could sense the lady on her legs getting fatigued or softening her grip, because then she would powerfully kick her legs way up in the air, lifting her pelvis off the table and then slam her legs back down and the whole sheet wrap would unravel, causing them all to scramble to recover. As they fumbled, she was already over on her stomach, fully unwrapped and almost off he edge of the table.
A quick recap. Last night before dinner Oona fell, caught the toy she was holding just right on her knee and smashed it into her chin. She bit her tongue as well and blood was pouring out of her mouth. She also had a 1/2 inch gash on her chin and the sides of it were pretty open. She was only really unhappy when we tried to hold her, get some ice on it and assess how bad the cut was. She managed to eat a huge dinner, which is unusual for her because she can be an annoyingly fussy eater. She truly was only crabby when we tried to comfort her. She didn't want comforting, she wanted to be free to continue exploring and wreaking havoc.
It is this drive and fighting spirit that motivates me. I was much more shaken from the whole experience than she was. I got her out of the hospital and into the car and in moments she was silently crunching her goldfish crackers. When I brought her into the house and put her down, chin glued and taped shut she was off and running from room to room, attempting to lift her brother's potty training stool over her head as if nothing had happened or it wasn't past her normal bedtime. Her adaptability astounds me.
Although she is at times both exhausting and infuriating, I'd love to be more like her. Joyful. Taking wild and often absolutely ridiculous chances in the name of exploration and freedom. Powerful and insanely fast. Utterly fearless. Strikingly mighty despite her wee size. Unstoppable. Able to escape the limitations provided by 4 nurses more than 3 times her size. And most importantly, never giving up.
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