I didn't expect that after our sweet baby arrived, the most dreaded, anxiety-ridden responsibility I would now be forced to undertake as a parent was - not just watching her bump her head on every single hard surface in our home - not just getting in the car and making the trek across town with delicate, precious, prized baby in tow (these do make me quite nervous though). But the thought of clipping her teensy-weensy baby fingernails terrified me. Fortunately with newborns, you're allotted a few weeks time before the nail actually separates from the skin to even be able to cut them.
Well, the time did come when I had to face my fear. I waited until Adeleigh fell asleep on our bed, grabbed the nail clippers and got clipping, very very slowly. It took me about 30 minutes to get through the first hand. I was on a roll - gaining confidence, getting cocky. Then I picked up her right hand, grabbed her index finger and clipped...
...then Adeleigh woke up...
...then the wailing began....
...and then the blood....and more blood.
I looked closely to find that not only had I clipped the top part of her fingernail, but I had clipped the top part of her finger - the meaty part. She sobbed for about 15 seconds before I realized what I'd just done. If I had kept clipping, I would've thought I'd taken off a chunk of her finger. She'd be scarred for life. She'd probably need physical therapy. Then I started sobbing. She stopped crying and looked up at me with her tear-filled eyes, confused like "Why is this lady crying when my finger hurts?" I called Phaeton at work and he didn't answer. I almost ran out to find the hotel housekeeper (FYI-this happened during the 6 week period when P was training for a new job & we were living out of a hotel in Denver). Instead, I called my mom. I needed to know that Adeleigh would be okay and that I was not a bad mother for having just inflicted this wound upon my innocent baby. I got the reassurance I needed, thanks Mom, and hung up the phone, still a little shaken. Adeleigh fell back sleep and I dabbed the wound with the burp cloth, then the bib, then the blankie, then the towel, then the bedsheet, just waiting for the bleeding to stop. Two-and-a-half hours later, with a peacefully sleeping baby in my lap, the bleeding subsided. Upon finding relief after all the stress, my body crashed with her in my arms. She had already forgotten about the events that had transpired. I, on the other hand, have forever engrained those 3 hours of horror in the guilty drawer of my soul.
I didn’t clip her nails for weeks. I wouldn’t let anyone else either. I needed to first make sure that the little flap of finger I had almost ruined would grow back in its proper place. When it did, I would only let my sisters clip her nails, not even Phaeton was allowed. Andrea had even mastered the skill to clip while Baby was awake! She deserves a medal. I eventually decided that I couldn’t keep depending on others to clip her nails and that I would need to figure it out for myself somehow, someway.
So one day, while changing A’s diaper, she zonked out on the changing table. I saw this as my opportunity to take my chances and give it a go. I grabbed the clippers, grabbed her adorable chubby fingers, clipped a few nails, and clipped a finger—again. Here we go…
Adeleigh woke up, cried. This time we cried together. I ran and grabbed my phone and called the doctor. It was a Saturday, so I got the lady on-call. I told her that I needed to speak with the doctor immediately, that I had knicked my daughter’s finger and it was bleeding. She made this sound as if to say, “Seriously, Lady? You called me for that?!” You would've thought I'd interrupted her watching TLC's Toddlers in Tiaras marathon or something. She said something like, “Well, I can try to reach a doctor to inform him of the situation, but every mother does stuff like this. Just apply a little pressure and she’ll be okay.”
That didn’t help me feel better. So I started crying, sobbing actually. I told her how I was a repeat offender and therefore, a horrible mother. Then the lady became a little more tender and genuine. She told me I was not horrible. I think she even became a little emotional herself. Then she shared with me that one time, while ironing, she had dropped the iron onto her baby’s leg. Eighteen years later, her daughter still bears the scar.
......I stopped crying……...
......I think I heard crickets……..
What I wanted to say was, “You did what?! How horrible! Who would have their baby underneath the iron when it’s on?!” But instead I said, “Oh, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to.” I should've thanked her for having done a number on my confidence.
When the doctor called me back, I was feeling much better. I told him I was fine, Adeleigh was fine. He said, “You know, for next time, you don’t have to use clippers. You could just bite her nails.”
.........….{pause}..............{crickets}...........
"Oh okay, maybe I'll try that next time. Thank you. Bye."
Bite her nails? That's kind of weird. Am I supposed to bite her toenails too? At what point am I supposed to stop biting her toenails - when she can bite her own?
I appreciated the advice, but decided not to take the biting route. Besides, I'd just kicked my nail-biting habit a few years ago. I didn't need to start up again.
I'm proud to say that in 8 months, I have not clipped Adeleigh's skin. I still feel the anxiety because I'm worried I might do it again on accident. If and when that day comes, I'll just remember that there's a lady out there who once synged her baby's leg with a hot iron...then I'll feel a little bit better. And I'll be grateful that when baby's grow up, they don't remember the horrible things their mothers did when they were little.
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