Emergency Rooms Again...

My heart sinks into my stomach as I read the text: Call me 911. I knew something was wrong. I knew like only a mother can know when one of her lion cubs is hurt. I knew it in the pit of my gut. I knew it in the bottom of my sunken heart.

While gulping a huge breath of air in an attempt to calm myself I dial the number. My ears are immediately overrun with her tears regarding you, my baby girl. It wasn't Cheryl's fault. She is one of the most caring and loving people I know. She fits right up there in my special list of people allowed to have my children for extended periods of time. However, in true mommy fashion she somehow thinks this accident is her fault and all I can hear her say over and over is I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Tanner, the dog you have known since you were about 2 years old and him about 6 weeks old snapped at you while you attempted to take his bone away from him. His teeth caught your skin and ripped it all the way down the right side of your perky little freckle covered nose.

How very brave you were that you weren't crying when you got to the phone to talk to me. The stuffiness caused by the injury nearly broke my heart. "Mama, it's not Tanner's fault. I knew better. I shouldn't have tried to take his bone away. Please don't be mad at him," you said.

I spent the next several minutes on the phone trying to comfort you from miles away. Trying not to allow myself to second guess my decision to let you go away for summer vacation without me.  You had done it so many times before and accidents can and do happen at home just as much as anywhere else.

I am preparing myself to make a maddening 220 mile trip to get to the ER when you are there although common sense tells me you would probably be out and back to the house before I ever got there.  The trip generally takes 3 to 3 1/2 hours on a normal day. We decided that if you needed me after you saw the dr. then I would come right away.

The next 2 hours were some of the most grueling times as a mother I have ever experienced. I am mommy and I am supposed to be there when my children cry. However, you weren't crying. In true Megan Beth fashion you had slipped into your cute little nurturer role and sat alternating between Cheryl and Bill's laps lightly tapping their backs trying to comfort them. You told me you did this so they would not cry.  I tried very hard but tears ran down my face. I hugged my big pillow and wished it were you.

Several hours into the by now what must have been 20 or so phone calls and texts I find out that you are watching animal planet and requesting purple stitches. I knew you would be ok at this point. Just as in the past you have always been a trooper and even more so since you had to settle for blue stitches instead of the purple ones you had wanted.

The next day you taught us all a lesson when you laid beside Tanner's kennel where he was locked up and stuck your finger through the cage to pet his nose. "Why did you do that Tanner?" You said, "You've never been that way before. You hurt me but even so I still love you."

Through all of that you still loved your best friend enough to forgive him for hurting you and through that I realize mistakes of all kinds do happen. If a 10 year old little girl can forgive that dog for scarring her for life physically but not scar her inside into fearing dogs I suppose I could stop a little in life and forgive those that may have hurt me.

Bathtubs, Emergency Rooms and Winks

I could curse that old bathroom tub over and over and still never have the satisfaction that it understands the depth of sorrow I feel when I remember your injury. The bone chilling scream that entered my ears still rings painfully to this day. I remember the feeling of helplessness as I attempted to race into the bathroom and feeling as if my legs were frozen in place. I slammed the door open only to see tears pouring from your face as you had fallen straddling the tub edge and cutting yourself on the old metal shower track.

Wrapping you in a towel I rushed you to the ER to sit and wait for the Dr. to examine. I was so proud of you when you asked him why he needed to look at you there because only mommy was allowed to do that.  After a long explanation and you agreeing only if mommy stays with me, you said, the doctor began his examination.

To my great relief the Dr. assured us that all was okay and we could return home. So, we packed up and returned home to a great big bowl of ice cream. After all it cures everything right? After a good movie and lots of cuddle time we set off to bed for the night.

Somewhere around the 1 am hour I was promptly awakened by a terrifying scream and popped my eyes open to see you, my Megan Beth, standing in my doorway with your pajama bottoms completely drenched in blood.  Your face was ashen white and your lips swollen bright red from dehydration.

Attempting to open your mouth to speak you instead collapsed on the floor from loss of blood. I quickly ripped your pajama bottoms off and wrapped you in a blanket while running for the front door.  Grabbing my keys and racing for the car with you in my arms I remember thinking that I could make it to the ER faster than an ambulance.

Within minutes we were rushed into a room where the nurse promptly hooked you up to an IV and I attempted very hard not to let the fear show on my face. I needed to be strong for you.

For the next hour or so my mind blocked out the surroundings as I focused on squeezing your hand hoping you would squeeze back, open your eyes or just do anything to let me know you were okay.  After another grueling two hours I let go of your hand long enough to lean back and readjust my position in my chair. As I reached for your hand I glanced at your face through the bed's side rail bars.

A feeling of hope washed over me as I caught your eyes peeking out of the covers.  And then all of a sudden I had to blink my eyes while questioning if I had seen correctly.  I leaned in a little closer and sure enough it happened again! You winked at me!

In that split second the world returned to normal and all the ER noises filled my ears. I jumped up and leaned down to plant a kiss on your head.  Carefully pulling the covers down you glanced over my shoulder at the TV in the corner and said, "I hate the wiggles!" And I knew then all was okay.

The next day daddy came in from work and literally ripped out the shower doors and all the old metal tracking.

Piggie Farts

A quaint little conversation I had with my often too blunt 10 year old daughter.

Me: Megan, you really need to get ready for the dentist.
Megan: Okay, I will.
Me: Remember to brush your teeth.
Megan: Why?
Me: You don't want to have bad breath when the dentist tells you to open your mouth.
Megan: Oh, yeah! And I don't want to burp then either!
Me: *sigh* No, that wouldn't be polite.

A few minutes pass.

Megan: Mama, can we take Bugsy to the dentist?  (He is our guinea pig.)
Me: No, it wouldn't be sanitary.
Megan: Oh, you're right. Especially if he let out a piggie fart.

Gotta love a child!