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Julie at “A Little Pregnant” has this post up about a recent gaffe she committed with her wee one. Judging by the 2oo+ confessions/comments it seems she’s not the only one with a guilty story of neglect.

When I committed my own personal “boner” as she calls it, I felt so bad I was almost calling social services to turn myself in until every single parent I tearfully admitted it to snorted and told me their own stories. It’s official: if you haven’t dropped/forgotten/set fire to your new baby yet it will happen. It’s like an initiation into the world of parenting.

So, here’s my story, just in case you’ve just left your newborn in the frozen food section of your local supermarket and need some reassurance:

Eve was 3 months old and I was racing around getting ready to go out to my Pilates class (my only form of social interaction with people my own age at the time) so I had my bag over my shoulder, my water bottle tucked under one arm and Eve on the other. The stairs in our house are very narrow and steep and I was barrelling down them because I was, as always, late. Somewhere around the 4th or 5th step from the bottom my ankle twisted underneath me and I crashed forward down the stairs, bag, bottle and baby all sent flying through the air. Eve hit the wall right at the doorway of the kitchen and the hallway (I’m not sure if she hit it straight or if she got the corner…I don’t like to think about that it makes me feel a bit woozy still) and landed hard on the laminate floor.

The next few seconds were the worst of my life because she just lay there, face down on the ground, not moving not making a sound. My husband who had heard the commotion leaped from the living room and scooped her up. Still no crying. I was sitting at the bottom of the stairs unable to move thinking I’d broken my ankle but not caring. Finally Eve started crying but it wasn’t her usual cry, it was more of a strangled whining noise. Matt ran out the door and into our neighbour’s house and got him to drive them to the hospital. I was left to shuffle myself to the phone to ring my mum and have her come and get me.

It all worked out fine though. Eve spent the night in the hospital for observation but she had only been winded and we couldn’t even find the bump on her head the next day. I’d sprained my ankle and had to use crutches for a couple of weeks (not easy with a baby let me tell you) but neither of us were the worse for wear. Well, other than the mental scars I’ll have for the rest of my life.