Tonight the most terrifying thing I can remember ever happening to me- happened. I fell down the steps carrying my daughter.
Obviously because I am now blogging about this experience, Pursy is alright and the only permanent damage is two holes in the attic door where a coat hook used to be. I always grab onto this hook on my way down from the attic just to give me a little stability as I go from stairs to floor, and I must have ripped it right out on my way down.
The list of "fortunately" is long- fortunately I was carrying her upright with both arms wrapping her close to my chest. Fortunately Grant and Daniel were home and sitting in the attic and were at my side in 1.7 seconds. Fortunately I didn't have anything else in my hands, as I have gotten into the very bad habit of carrying Pursy with one arm and a dish, book, blanket, etc. in the other. Fortunately I slid straight down the steps on my ass and missed hitting the doorframe and walls with Pursy's head.
I was instantly hysterical and every horrible possibility went through my head all at once. None of them came to pass, and my daughter is presently sleeping soundly unscathed and unmaimed. It did impress on me in that instant how everything can change and I can never get too comfortable. My heart loves this little person so much and I am so grateful that the Lord watches out for her- while I am busy falling down the steps.