The Split

Today is the day that my son leaves home. He is only a year and a half, and already his path is winding its way into the outer world. Granted, he’s only going two streets over to the home daycare until 3:30, but still, it feels like he has left.

And last night was not great. After having awoken in a bed other than mine in his dim night-lighted room, he was upset. He started jumping up and down on his crib mattress, screaming, his monosyllabic complaints having turned into yelps then into wails. Nonchalantly deciding it was time to go in and check on him, I went into his room and held out my arms to take him out from behind his crib bars. He was still screaming, so I took him to our bedroom as usual, to sleep with me for the rest of the night. But this time, he didn’t stop screaming, as I went to put him on the bed; and I noticed something was wrong with his little mouth. In the dim light of our room, I inspected the little lips and teeth more closely; they were darker than usual as he thrashed his head from side to side. Then I saw that his teeth were more defined, outlined by a darker substance than saliva; his mouth was full of blood.

I panicked and ran down the stairs with him in my arms, yelling for my husband, “Hon, Hon! Come here.” Olivier ran up from the basement, “What’s wrong?!”– “Look, he’s bleeding!” Olivier told me to calm and got a facecloth and moistened it. He wiped Vito’s mouth clean and tried to peer into it, lifting his upper lip; too in pain and upset to be manipulated, Vito clung to me tightly, turning his head away from his father, screaming and crying.

Luckily, he had probably just split his lip while jumping up and down behind the crib bars.

It was one of the worst feelings ever, to have your son cry and hang on to you with all his strength, only to be unable to know what exactly is wrong with him; and the remorse of knowing that you had not rushed faster to his side to comfort him. And to know that you always come so close to misunderstanding your own flesh and blood: the anguish of the little body telling you he is afraid and alone and wants to be near you, summarized by the split lip and the bloody teeth. His blood and tears left printed on your white nightgown.