breasts had finally adjusted to Jaime’s needs and rhythm, when disaster struck. Zoe was changing her, and took her hands off the baby for a split second to reach for a fresh package of diapers high on a shelf. She took one short step away from her, and before she could step back, Jaime demonstrated her newest skill and rolled off the changing table onto the hardwood floor and gave her head a resounding crack when she landed with an ear-piercing scream. Zoe scooped her up with a look of panic, the baby was alert but it took long minutes to calm her.
There was no rug under the changing table or in the room where they kept Jaime’s things, since Zoe was afraid of allergens and asthma, which she had had as a child, so the room was all hard surfaces, which could be wiped down, and Jaime’s quick trip to the floor had been unforgiving. Within a short time, Jaime had a huge bump on her head. Zoe didn’t stop to call Cathy Clark, she put Zoe in her quilted sack, grabbed a blanket and her purse, and rushed out the door to take her to the emergency room. She was sure Jaime had a concussion, given how hard she had hit, the awful sound it made, and the size of the bump on her head.
She called Austin from the cab, confessed to her own stupidity in stepping away from her. Jaime had never moved on the table before. Zoe told him where she was going, the emergency room at NYU, and he promised to get there as fast as he could. His office was in midtown, and Zoe would get there first.
They only made Zoe wait a few minutes before a pediatrician at the emergency room saw Jaime. He had a nurse get them an ice pack. Jaime seemed content by then, but there was no denying she had a big bump on her head, and Zoe cried guiltily as she explained what had happened, and how stupid and irresponsible she had been.
“Babies do things like that.” The doctor tried to calm her and saw how terrible she felt about the accident. “Her pupils look fine. She doesn’t have a concussion. Keep an eye on her, and if she throws up, call me. It’s just a bump on the head,” he said reassuringly, and was startled when Zoe asked them to call in a pediatric neurologist, just to be on the safe side. He told her he didn’t think it was necessary, but Zoe insisted, so he did. Zoe asked the neurologist if he thought Jaime should have a CT scan, and he concurred entirely with the pediatrician. There was no sign of a concussion, Jaime had a nasty egg on her head, but she was fine. Both doctors were in the examining room when Austin walked in half an hour later, in time to hear that Jaime was fine, and he looked enormously relieved. From Zoe’s description of the event, he was imagining her in a coma by the time he got there, and possibly brain damaged. He was thrilled to find that wasn’t the case, and held her in the cab on the way home, as Jaime grinned at him and giggled when he kissed her. She seemed none the worse for the experience, although Zoe looked shaken up, and felt acutely guilty for Jaime’s fall. She kept repeating how stupid she had been.
“She’s going to get bumps and bruises over the years. You can’t prevent them all.” He kissed his wife, as they rode home, and made a comment that had occurred to him recently. “I think your medical school training makes you worry about her more. You have enough knowledge to terrify yourself, Zoe. Maybe you need to disconnect from that, and read fewer books. You’re smart and sensible, and careful with her, to an extreme degree. You can’t assume the worst every time. She’s fine, and every bump on the head doesn’t mean a concussion. Sometimes, most of the time, it’s just a bump on the head. My brothers’ boys would be brain dead by now if they got a concussion every time they knocked each other down or ran into something.”
“But those things happen. You can’t ignore them. That’s how tragedies happen, when people assume that something is nothing, when in fact they’re not seeing the danger signs.”
“Not every situation is dangerous,” he argued his case. “You’re a great mom,