She blinked as she woke, images of sweet dreams still dancing in her head. She was not much of a crier, even at this early morning hour. Her parents, still sleeping at 4 a.m., were oblivious to their daughter’s night trysts. They often brag to friends and family about how fortunate they are to have a baby that slept throughout the night. If they could afford to buy a video baby monitor, they would discover that was not the case.
Instead of crying like a normal infant, she laid in her crib, smiling at the motionless toy carousel. She was hungry, but not enough to scream at the top of her lungs. She sat up, waiting for her young eyes to adjust to darkness. After a few moments, she reached out and grabbed a hold of the wooden slats of her crib. She stood up and peered over the side. The coast was clear. She tightened every muscle of her tiny frame and pulled herself up. She flopped her chubby legs over the side and hung there for a few seconds, bracing for the fall. With the grace of a ninja, she floated down to the floor. A normal baby would have crumbled in a wailing heap of helplessness.
But ten-month old Bryanna was not a normal baby. She landed on all fours, like a cat after falling from the branch of a tree. She immediately began to crawl forward, toward the open door of her bedroom. The soft pitter-patter of her hands and knees whispered throughout the quiet house. Down the hall, her mother stirred, intuition shifting her subconscious awareness.
Bryanna crawled over the threshold and into the hallway. From her point of view, only inches off the floor, everything was enormous. The chandelier hanging over the staircase was a fading star to her, appearing light years away. She craned her neck as she passed the small end tables littered throughout the hallway. She thought those were heights that she would never be able to reach. She inched her way along, past her big sister’s room and toward the staircase. She glanced at the doorknob as she did, dismissing it as another object forever beyond the grasp of her plump fingers. Behind the door, her sister was sound asleep.
Now only ten feet away from the top of the staircase, Bryanna increased her speed. Excitement grew as she anticipated the next step in her journey: descending the stairs. She had done this many times since learning to crawl. She discovered rather quickly that going over the edge feet first would allow her to drop down each step slowly and effectively. It was tedious but it allowed her to reach her destination.
She finally reached the staircase. As she turned to begin her descent, the hem of her sleeping gown snagged on a tiny shard of wood jutting from the post. Her forward momentum halted in an instant. She was yanked backward, her body flipping upside down as she dangled from the post, half in the air, half on the steps. Her arms flailed. Her head teetered over the edge of the second step.
The gown stretched, its flimsy fabric tearing at the point of contact. She reached out instinctively, but her baby hands couldn’t grip the step. The tear gave way. Gravity took over. Her head struck the step and she began to tumble forward.
But instead of falling down the stairs, she remained suspended in midair. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in preparation for an intense bout of painful crying. Behind her, her mother stood at the top of the staircase, holding her daughter in the air by a single foot. Her motherly instincts moved her to wake up and check on her baby. She walked past the staircase just in time to grab her baby girl, saving her from a fatal tumble down the stairs.
Jay Owens 