Midnight Mayhem

I used to be a sound sleeper. When I was younger, a car literally ran into the side of our house and apparently it caused a lot of commotion. I found out about the incident after I woke up a few hours later.

Since Robby was born I have developed "Mommy ears." I can hear him stirring through two closed doors and over the sounds of the radio and sound machine playing. I am often sitting up in bed and already putting on my leg by the time Scott hears Robby's calls.

Of all of the obstacles presented by my amputation, the increased response time needed to respond to a midnight emergency is the most frustrating. As a Mommy, I want to go running whenever I hear Robby crying for help after a nightmare or when he suddenly becomes sick. Before coming to his aid, I must first put on my liner and leg. I know that it only takes a few moments, but I resent the delay.

Few situations make me feel as "disabled" as when I must first put on my leg before responding to a cry for help. Every time it happens, I wish that I could just pop up and go running, like a "normal" limbed parent. This is not my reality, and I know that it is fact of life that will not change. I hate it!

I have become adept at putting on my leg in the dark. I am sure that, if I were timed, I have my prosthetic on within 10 seconds. I know that, in the scheme of things, 10 seconds is not a lot of time. After all, because of my "Mommy ears" I am often halfway to Robby's room before Scott's sleep is even disturbed by the cries. However, when you're a Mommy and your child is hurting or scared, seconds seems like an eternity.

Monsters have apparently taken up residence in Robby's room. We have employed various monster repellents with minimal success. Despite our efforts, the monsters return and I am forced to fight them off in the wee hours of the morning.

I keep my liner inside out and on top of my prosthetic. I am ready to battle the fierce intruders at a moment's notice. Last night, at about 3 am, I heard the cry for help.

I immediately sat up and slid my liner over my stump. With one swift movement my leg was unplugged and I was stepping into the socket. New liners typically require more time and more downward deliberate pressure within my socket to create an adequate seal. I knew that I had not achieved suction, but there were monsters to fight and the walk was short.

Bam! I walked directly into Robby's ride-on firetruck. The "I Hear a Firetruck" song started blaring. My prosthetic got hung up on the truck and popped off. Unfortunately , I didn't realize it until I tried to take a step. Down I went.

Robby, upon hearing the commotion, came running into the bedroom. Scott woke up to find me on the floor with a concerned toddler towering over me. I was frustrated but unharmed. I immediately instituted a new family rule: All toys must be removed from the pathway between Robby's room and our bed!

A cup of milk and a few sprays of the monster repellent seemed to get rid of the unwanted intruders. I am a little bruised and annoyed. I know that it is a reality that I must put on my leg before going to help Robby. Obviously I need to put a little more time into the process to avoid injury. This being said, I don't have to be happy about it!