IMG_1783I was naked – this time in the biblical sense.  I had just put my son down for a nap while staying at my in-laws, my three year old with cerebral palsy, incapable of sitting up and hardly able to roll over on his own.  I surrounded him with several, huge, overstuffed down pillows on all four sides. A quick shower couldn’t hurt – could it?

I hurriedly washed, rinsed and shut off the water.  Shaving my legs was a luxury not yet an option for me.  The steam dissipated, my hand twisted the knob and the steady rhythmic flow of water stopped.  I immediately heard faint but cutting shrieks coming from the room adjacent.

A chill raced up my spine.  My wet and slippery feet smacked the floor, as I ran from the shower terrified, towel-less, and sopping wet.

I stepped into the guest room and stared at the horrifying sight of my defenseless child, head jammed between the nightstand and bed, body just dangling off the edge.

How did he do it?  How could he possibly make his way from the dead center of this giant bed, through a mound of pillows, over the edge of a ridiculously oversized, California King mattress when he could barely turn over onto his back?

But there I was, rushing up to his beautiful, terrified face, beet red from screaming, jammed into what seemed like only a few inches of space, barely able to look over at me through the streaming crocodile tears.

I pushed away the thought that he had been that way for the entire ten minutes I was showering.  My momma bear instincts kicked into overdrive.

I rushed to his side.  I looked hard at where he was stuck.  The Ufemas are known for big noggins and his was lodged perfectly in what appeared to be a scientifically impossible small amount of space.  The ornate nightstand jutted out towards me, as it seemed to slice into his lily-white ear.

I tried to move the nightstand.  Seriously???  It weighed what felt like a thousand pounds.  My father in law had incredibly extravagant taste and this sturdy, well-made piece of furniture didn’t want to budge.  I felt like the mom trying to lift the car off her pinned down child.

I thought for a split second and then grasped at the drawers with every intention of winging them haphazardly behind me.  They wouldn’t budge!  Who does that to anything but hotel furniture? And why do they do that anyway???  Dane winced as the water dripped from the ends of my hair into his already tear filled eyes.

I stared down at my little guy and said “OK baby.  We can do this.  I have my hand under your head.  I’m going to pull this away but I’ll catch you.  I promise.”  Dane stared up and me and with a moment of calm maturity he squeaked, “I trust you Mama.”

I counted to three and with all my might pulled the nightstand away.  His gorgeous giant melon fell into my open hand.  I scooped him up and carried him to the end of the bed.  I cradled him in my lap.  I held his beautiful face to my chest and rocked him probably more because I needed it than he did.  His ears burned.  The indention from where his ear jammed against the sharp corner of that piece of lead furniture glowed red where the cut might start seeping blood at any minute.

I looked down at my exhausted son.  “I am so sorry I took a shower.  I’m sorry I left you in here by yourself.”

Dane looked up at me and matter-of-factly said, “My ear hurts. We might have to go to the doctor…” Then, flashing the most gorgeous smile, his eyes shining bright once again giggled, “and you’re naked.”

Probably the most naked I’d ever been.