I dropped you on your head today.
I had you across my lap, one foot in both hands, and you squirmed onto your tummy and then somehow just slipped out of my grasp, landing on your head then coming to rest face down.
I felt like my frustration had caused your fall, like my feelings had risen up and pushed you off my lap, like I'm Carrie. There were a few long seconds between your mouth opening for an angry, sorrowful howl at gravity and your mother, and the first scratchy screech. I just held you to me, trying to comfort you, trying to comfort myself.
You stopped sobbing after a few minutes and nursed, but it didn't remotely alleviate the ache and heaviness in my chest.