Sometimes, missions go bad. That's just how things work. No amount of preparation, intelligence, planning, improvising, can ensure that everything always goes perfectly. Of course you still try to prepare anyway, but sometimes? Things go pear-shaped. And when your job is being a crime-fighting vigilante, well, sometimes people get hurt.
You'd done your part and Babs had done hers. It just sucked, a little, that 'your part' was being neck-deep in the danger and 'her part' was calling in the incident to the Batcave when you'd been downed. Okay so she did more than just that, but in the moment, there hadn't been much she could do directly to help you, and that had felt bad. It always did.
So she's making up for it now, as much as she can. You've got some recovery time ahead of you, and she's more than willing to take care of you and try to keep you comfortable. Problem is, you're not very good at taking recovery time. Babs supposes nobody in the family is - none of you deal well with being benched and just laying around - but you're hurt, which means you need to rest and relax and stay still dangit.
Babs is, personally, more than familiar with the concept of recovery time from major injury being a slow, gradual process, and you're just going to hurt yourself worse if you keep pushing yourself.
"What did I say about staying in bed?" she sighs, exasperated more than anything, as she peers at you sternly with arms crossed. "If you pop any stitches Alfred's going to give you the world's sternest lecture and I'll be right behind him to follow up. Sit your butt down."
