Well, one little girl, one little boy, 4 years and 15 months into parenthood and we made our first visit to the children's ER. For me, this is the part of parenting I was NOT cut out for! Many parents say, and I have to agree when things like this happen to our young children it is often harder on us than the child. Though it feels selfish to say there is truth there. Last night we were getting ready to go to our small group at church. I was preparing the food, Matt was loading the car. Lately, Cale has become a climber. So, in true Cale fashion he had climbed on the bar stool and onto the counter top. All of a sudden I heard a loud thud and Ella screaming, "Momma, Cale!!!" I ran over to him and he was sitting on the floor crying. She was freaking out saying, "there's blood, there's blood!" I was looking all over and in his mouth. "There is no blood," I told her. I looked at my arm and it was covered. Matt walked in and that's when we found the problem. He had cut the back of his head and Ella was right, THERE. WAS. BLOOD...to say the least.
So, off we went to Children's. He was fine and acting completely normal, thank you Jesus! When we FINALLY got called back to see the doctor she confirmed that he would need a stitch, maybe two...it took three. This was one of the worst experiences of my life. They had to wrap him in a sheet and strap him to a papoose board to hold him down. He is strong as an ox so this was the only option. He SCREAMED and cried. The boy does not like to be confined. I laid beside him the whole time wiping his eyes and nose, assuring him it was ok. My heart broke a little more everytime he looked at me as if he was wondering why I wouldn't save him. Once she started sewing, he had fallen asleep. He sure is a tough little man, what a trooper. The above picture was pre-stitching...he was jumping on the bed! He makes me SOOOOO nervous!
He's fine today, though he didn't learn a thing. First thing this morning he was trying to get back up on the stool...BOYS, no fear!! I think the stools may quite possibly make a move down stairs until he's old enough to know to stay off of them.
He laid on my chest as he went to sleep last night and rubbed my arm. I cried. And cried. I guess they were the tears I couldn't cry while he was strapped down and tears of the thankfulness that I felt that it wasn't worse than it was. I'm now contemplating letting him walk around in a helmet, knee and elbow pads. I think that might be a bit much, but I would feel better!
Ella and Honey
