There are many things you look forward to as "firsts" with your kids. First steps, first words, etc. They make baby books dedicated to all these wonderful first time events as the world opens up for these tiny little humans.
But there are a few firsts that don't have a place in the baby book. First time you lose your temper with the baby. First time you forget to buckle them in the car seat because you've been awake for probably the last 100 hours. First time you drop your baby. Another is the first serious injury.
Nick was standing on the chair in our living room, trying to reach the new printer we just got and I was testing by printing a few things. I told him not to touch and and to get down several times and finally told him if he did it again, he was going to time out. He did it again, and in one of the very, very few times I don't follow through with my threats, I did nothing but tell him not to do that again. I went into the kitchen and hear THUNK! WAHHHH!
Dave picks him up said he hit his head on the bookshelf. Usually, I don't panic over falls and bumps and scrapes. Especially with Nick because he loves to do stuff like spin around until he's so dizzy he falls over or run and pretend he's sliding into home base. Or slide down the steps on his stomach or butt as fast as he can and make it sound like he's fell down a whole flight and given himself rug burn and then laugh. He's impulsive and still working out that whole action/consequence thing.
But, "He hit the back of his head." followed by, "He's bleeding!" gave me a twinge of panic. Blood should not be on the back of the head. I looked, it was just little trickle, so I took him and sat him on the edge of the kitchen sink to take a better look, thinking it was a little scrape.
And then the floodgates opened and blood started pouring out the back of my little boy's head. That twinge of panic turned into a full blown surge. I grabbed wads of paper towels and tried to put pressure on it. He's screaming, scared, and hurt. I knew he needed medical attention but didn't know how to get him somewhere while trying to stop the river of blood. Finally while I was debating calling 911, I realized that by the third wad of blood soaked paper towels, the bleeding had slowed.
I yelled to Dave to call the doctor while I looked at it. I wish I hadn't. Now, I was a nurse. I have watched open heart surgery from start to finish. I have cracked a woman's rib while giving her CPR. I've stopped doing CPR so they could open up a man's chest and lift his heart out to massage it to try to bring him back. I have calmly pulled a curtain around me so the patient's husband didn't have to see that his wife's intestines were literally coming out of her incision. None, none of that bothered me. But seeing that hole, about two inches across, a quarter inch deep and gaping, in my baby's head? That bothered me.
I knew he'd need stitches and was ready to take him to urgent care when Dave said the doctor said to bring him in. We all got in the car, Nick in his car seat with me squished around in the backseat facing him, still clutching a mess of bloody paper towels to his head. I ran in with him and the took us right back. The doctor took one look and said he needed stitches.
Nick had finally settled down by this point. The nurse asked him if he fell and he said, "I need a doctor." and just kept repeating, "I need a doctor. I need a doctor. I need a blue doctor." (Blue doctor because he was wearing a blue shirt). He didn't want to let go of me to have his head washed off and I can't blame him. But he did. They asked me if I thought he'd hold still and I didn't, so the doctor laid his lab coat down on the table and Nick was supposed to lie down on it, have it wrapped around him and the arms tied around him so he couldn't move that well. Nick took one look at the coat and said, "No! I can't wear that coat! I TOO LITTLE!"
Eventually we got him in it and I leaned over him so he could see me (and couldn't kick anyone). He flinched when he got the shots to numb the area and his bottom lip started quivering and my heart broke into a million pieces. He asked me where Dada was and said, "I want talk to him." I promised we'd see Daddy just as soon as we're done. "Where my Weeum?" "With Daddy, Sugar." We talked quietly and calmly while he got his little head stitched up. He got a sticker sheet (baseball is what he picked out...and Tinkerbelle). He's the proud new owner of five or six stitches that should come out next Friday.
He's ok now, except when I have to change his band-aid which is stuck on his hair. As you can imagine that's loads of fun. Me, on the other hand, I'm a mess. I held it together while it was all going on, but now? I can't get the image of it out of my mind and I get sick to my stomach thinking about it.
I don't think I'll be putting this in the baby book either.
Oh my goodness, just reading this I was getting butterflies in my stomach. This is my biggest fear too...no matter how many times Daycare calls to tell me about yet another bump on Gio's head.
I can't imagine how scary that was, but you were GREAT! I know it must HURT just to think about it. Lip quivering and all.
Poor Nick, but poor you too. Boys are RAMBUNCTIOUS and I'm learning, really quickly, that I can go with it or just stand back and watch.
Hugs all around my friend, hope he is feeling better soon and I hope you are too....Hug, Hug, Hug
Posted by: Kir | June 15, 2009 at 10:53
I know the shakes haven't worn off yet, but you may want to put this in the baby book. It sounds as though Mr. Nick will have his fair share of doctor visits over the course of his childhood. You may as well celebrate the first big owie! :)
My husband was always going in for stitches and casts ... and even got shot out of a plum tree at 7 years old. Let's just say it would be cute to show his kids what a big mess Daddy was growing up!
Posted by: Kelly | June 15, 2009 at 11:13
How terrifying for all of you. I'm so glad he's ok.
Posted by: amanda | June 15, 2009 at 13:38
Oh, Jenn, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I got teary just reading about it. I think Timmy is going to be the same as Nick - always on the go and not very careful about it. He's already got two bruises on his face from tumbles he's taken :-(
Posted by: Nico | June 15, 2009 at 14:09
Jenn, you and I wrote almost the same entry today.
Hoping we both recover as quickly as our kids seem to have.
Posted by: persephone | June 15, 2009 at 16:26
I'm so glad Nick is okay. And I'm so sorry he had to go through that, and that you're feeling so bad about it. That mom-guilt after the fact, complete with flashback images, is hard to cope with. (I'm in that stage now since R accidentally ate a peanut cookie on Sunday and had to go to emergency with a major allergic reaction.) Somehow we blame ourselves for failing to protect our children, whether we were at fault or not.
Sounds like you did all the right things. Give yourself a little more time to process all the emotions that you had to suppress when it was happening. It will be okay.
Posted by: tripleblessings | June 17, 2009 at 02:06
I'm glad he is ok. That must have been horrible. I'm dreading our first big injury!
Posted by: Megan/Always a Bridesmaid | June 17, 2009 at 11:58
Ouch..just reading this makes my stomach jump. I have been reading your blog for almost two years now and I've loved every minute. You crack me up so much I've almost peed myself a few time! Keep the post comming! I hope that Nick is feeling better and you never have to go through that again!
Posted by: Hollie | June 19, 2009 at 00:04
Oh Jenn, I don't think I'd be able to get that out of my mind either. We are not built to watch our kids bleed. There's a particular horror in that for a mother that's just beyond words. I hope he's right as rain in no time.
You've got some good stiff vodka, right?
xoxo
flicka
Posted by: Flicka | June 21, 2009 at 20:28