The other day, something happened that shook me to the core.
We only think we know how precious and fragile life is until
something like this happens.
It really wakes you up.
In a matter of seconds the world shifts.
Minutes feel like hours.
Hours feel like days.
I am still quite unsettled.
Z ended up in the emergency room with the back of his head
split open and a busted up face.
I saw my baby boy’s skull. I
wish that no mother ever experiences that.
For hours we didn’t know how serious it was.
I am so grateful that after a clear CT scan and six staples
to his precious head he is ok. He
is playing and living like it never happened. His resiliency is astounding.
We were playing in the garden. I stepped away to change his brother’s diaper on the porch
and I heard a crash and scream. In
that minute, he pulled the pins out of our utility trailer and the ramp fell on
his head pinning his face to the ground. I ran.
I still don’t remember if he crawled all the way out or if I
pulled him out.
His face was busted up and mouth was bloody. I thought that was the worst part until
I held his head and discovered that it was split open and we were covered in
blood.
Daddy rushed home in minutes and we hurried to the ER.
Every single horrible imaginable thing crossed my mind. I felt helpless. All we could do was hold ice on him,
tell him he would be ok, and go.
Thank goodness the numbing gel they administered made his
pain and tears stop immediately.
I held it together, for the most part, until after bed. Then I lost it. I sobbed in the shower.
My heart literally hurt. My body ached.
I felt sick. I still feel
sick about it.
I feel responsible. It happened in about a minute. I let my guard down for one minute.
I wondered. What if it handicapped him? Or he needed surgery? What if he was in the hospital or worse? What if he wasn’t here anymore? What if I’d never hold him again?
Was I the best mom I could be? I reflected upon all sorts of regrets. We’d just emerged from a rough two weeks between colds, ear infections,
and teething. Was every time I got
frustrated or expressed anger to him ever necessary?
I had to stop.
I had to
breathe.
I haven’t quite let go.
Every time I look at his scratched up face and staples, I
cringe inside. It’s like a little
pain in my chest when I see him hurt.
He is acting perfectly fine and just as adventurous as
ever. He hasn’t complained. Washing his hair is easy, for him. He still wants to jump off the
couch.
Every time his head comes near something I shudder a little. But we don’t live in a bubble. I can’t let this ruin our life. I am being strong.
I am taking it as a huge warning.
We all know that terrible things will happen. We expect to be shaken. But not like that, with our children.
We worry. We do everything we can to prevent it. We hope we can protect them. We think we have a minute. We sometimes underestimate them.
It is a reminder to me that in an instant things can change
and life will never be the same. I
only hope that this lesson lingers with me forever to remind me every day how
precious these boys are.
How precious everyone is.
Life is precious.
Life is fragile.
