This evening Jo Jo was bitten by a dog, and the injuries are very minor, nothing a bandaid and soap and water can’t fix.
But oh, oh my heart when she screamed and I saw blood on her hand. As an ICU nurse I’m naturally very calm when chaos is erupting, but that is outwardly. Inside, I completely fell apart as my baby screamed and screamed while I held pressure to stop the bleeding.
It could have been so much worse than a few small cuts. Her little baby hand is delicate, a finger could’ve been bitten off, or at least needed stitches. This dog does not necessarily like her, and stays away from her when we’re there. She has petted him and reached for him many times, and he’s never snapped at her. Well, from now on he will be kept on a closed room away from her of we’re there! I really don’t think he his a bad dog, just a dog who is too anxious to be around small kids.
It scared the shit out of me, and I felt so guilty for… not seeing it coming, somehow. Not knowing I should always keep that dog in a closed room. Not being right behind her and taking her away from him before she reached for him. I felt like I failed as a mom, because it’s my job to protect her. I can’t bear her pain, her outrage that the world had let her down, that she had merely reached out in love and interest and been hurt.
This girl is my heart, and when she hurts I feel it in my bones. This is motherhood, your heart in someone else’s body.