Gratitude: Part 2

I came awfully close to losing my baby girl today. I wasn't present at the scene, but I know by the quaking of my husband's voice when he called me after the fact and the look in his eyes when I returned home, that it was a close call.  If he had been a few feet further away from her, if our neighbor had been listening to his radio or been looking over his other shoulder as he backed out, he wouldn't have seen or heard Scott in time. Annabel would have been creamed. As it stands, she was only knocked off her bike. Only. Ha. Tell that to her daddy's heart. To her momma's peace of mind. 

Close calls are a part of growing up, I get that, and something I should probably resign myself to given what a daredevil, wild child my second born is. But it will never be easy. My heart will never *not* worry about my babies. Ever. That's the bitter with the sweet part of this parenting gig.

Nevertheless, the gravity of what went down this morning did not actually hit me until I was putting Annie down for her nap this afternoon. I was rocking her like usual and she kept saying "seep, momma, go bed" like usual (her subtle cue that she wants me to leave her the hell alone). But I couldn't. Not today. I kept holding her, snuggling her, smelling her and blatantly ignoring her continued insistence that she wanted to go to bed until she finally just gave up and fell asleep in my arms. And then I cried quiet tears of both fear and gratitude. 

What would I do without my happy, crazy birdie girl?

I pray I never know. 

P.S. It goes without saying, I know, but humor me:

MAKE SURE YOUR CHILD ALWAYS WEARS A HELMET.

Please.