This post is shared in full over on allisoncreagh.com in her series called Mom Fail. The Lord prompted me to share about the time I actually fell and what He chose to teach me during that season of limitation.
I fell. I was holding my eight-month-old baby and I fell. I tripped over something that was out of place and cried out on the way down to a hard floor. I gripped tight, never losing eye contact with her. She was safely tucked into my arm. Her head landed on the only soft place in the whole area, a folded corner of her laundry basket. I pulled her in close. She melted into me, relieved to be safe again. I breathed hard, relieved God protected her from harm.
I went to lift her, to get off of this concrete floor, and my stomach dropped. I couldn't use my right arm. Shock gripped me. The pain, the fall, the fear, all of it ushered in the acute awareness of how a second's time can reveal just how fragile you really are.
Somehow we finagled up, my daughter not wanting for a second to leave my arms. We walked to my 77-year-old neighbor’s house to ask for help. She came willingly, along with another lady down the street. They helped Harper get ready for a nap and wrapped my arm with ice and sat with me in all my confusion and helplessness.
Days later, the doctor would tell me I'd fractured my elbow. It's deemed one of the more unique fractures. Most breaks happen in the ulna because most use their hands to prevent full impact of the fall. I fractured my radius and lost all rotation in my right arm because my elbow had functioned as a pad to prevent the breaking of my daughter.
Without the ability to rotate my arm, I couldn't pick her up. I couldn't change her diaper. I couldn’t give her a bath, change her clothes, or put her in her car seat. I couldn't be alone with her. And with all this newfound inability, it began to feel like I couldn't, for all purpose's sake, be her mama.