My poor baby!

Last night Anne was taking a bath, leaned on the edge with her hands there to get her hair rinsed, slipped and face planted on the edge-hitting her nose smack on it as she fell. I wasn't there-John was giving her the bath, but she bled quite a bit. It was scary. I asked if everything was okay and he said "no" then said "She's bleeding. A lot." Just the words a mother wants to hear. Visions of her biting through her lip danced in my head. I ran upstairs, held her, and held tissues to her nose and she screamed horribly, afraid maybe she broke her nose, wondering how in the world I could turn back time to make this better. She was fine-it was just a bloody nose, but the whole thing made me feel so helpless while I was in it. I so desperately wanted to erase this moment in time, to go back and make it have never happened. In the end, it was an intense moment that passed very quickly. The bleeding stopped, thank God because all Anne wanted to do was smell Ducky during the whole ordeal and since she was literally spurting blood (imagine a bloody nose, mixed with crying, sniffling, rubbing the nose, coughing, etc.) there was no way she could. Anne was totally fine. I've seen her this morning and she's none the worse for wear. In fact, strange as this sounds, the whole thing was almost anti-climatic. We got so worried and worked up wondering if she was ok and in the end she was as fine as if she fell and scraped her knee.

I am so grateful though that it wasn't worse. That she didn't bite through her lip or break her nose. That things cleared up rather quickly. I know for her, though, it was terrifying, and for a few moments for me too.