Today, while I was at work, I received urgent messages followed by frantic calls from my husband.
My oldest son had hit his head on the table or chair and gashed the back open. The cut was about an inch long and fairly deep. Bleeding stopped rather quickly according to my husband but after finally getting me to answer, I knew it was bad. I consulted with my dad about if it looked stitch-worthy and he said yes.
After alerting my supervisor, I left work early. I had to keep checking my speed as I was consistently hitting the 80+ mark on the speedometer and didn't want to add a ticket to my going-downhill day. In my mind I was arguing with myself. I was angry that I wasn't able to protect my son from harm. I was understanding that I'm not a god who can't save him from all pains in life. I was upset that my husband was panicking in the face of an emergency. I don't panic. I keep calm and approach things with a level head. And while I know not everyone else does, I will get frustrated with others for their panic.
So many thoughts and emotions flowing through me at once. It was enough to take my light headache up a notch and make me wish I could've taken the Excedrin sooner.
As I see the wound in person, I was completely convinced that stitches would be needed. There's no getting around it for something that opened that wide. My fear and anxiety were coming alive. A mother doesn't want to see her children in pain. Especially when there's nothing you can do to take it away. And what would the doctor say? Would he accuse me of child abuse? We loaded the kids into the van and drove to the local clinic.
It took about 2 doses of pain killer to numb the spot.
My little boy is growing up. I cannot stop him from getting hurt. I cannot wrap him up in full body protective gear and expect him to enjoy life. While my heart aches at his pain, I'm going to hug him and kiss his head while I tell him that he is my little man and everything will be okay because I'm going to be there for him no matter what.
It's a Mom thing.