The Whole Story

I look at him in that baby blue monstrosity and can't believe that we are in the same reality.  I look at myself and can't believe I survived it all.  I guess moms don't have a choice, but there were many times I wasn't sure I was going to make it through this "event" and out the other side.   Of course, I had to. No one else can take care of him the way it needs to be done.  So, I guess that is the answer for why moms have to make it through very tough times like this.

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Just Tuesday he was playing on the floor with the cool letter roadway I made him. Just playing and vrooming.

On Thursday he was fishing naked.  (Yep, naked, long story--well not really, mama has good idea.  Son has better idea)

Then, Saturday, he climbed into what looked so innocent, and I now refer to as: the death trap.

Now, he looks like this.

 

I guess it looks a lot more pitiful to me.  As you can see he is smiling, eating ice cream and he has his best friend with him.  But, trust me, this baby is pitiful.  He didn't cry or scream at all, but I am telling you this is a sad, sad sight.  He was fine when we go to the car and wanted his earned lollipop--but it is just awful, awful!  He kept hitting it in the car and laughing because he can't feel it and it sounded funny--but I know those laughs were hiding the tears....mine were, so his were....right?

If the above pictures were a great lightened version of the Thomas Shipley: A Story of Heartbreak for you, then move on...or you can hear the whole sorted story.

It all started Saturday.  I took the kids solo to the Spring Festival at Gracie's school. I will be honest, I didn't want to go. It was hot, and humid and we had been out all morning in the heat at Home Depot. I was over it.  I was cranky. But, I knew I couldn't get out of it. 

I got crankier as I searched for a parking space and then had to create my own. I got crankier as the kids are yelling about the things they see they want to do.

I got crankier as I shelled out $5 a piece for arm bands.

We made a bee line to the bouncy houses, because that was where Thomas  wanted to go, and Gracie was fine with that.

He was in and bouncing for maybe 5 minutes, I am watching him literally up against the bounce house and peering through the netting. (I am a helicopter parent. There I said it!)

I saw him fall, and then I heard the blood-curdling scream!

In seconds I hand my hands under the flap and I pulled him out still laying on his back.

He was crying hard, and the school's librarian was over to us in seconds. I think he was in charge of the bounce houses.

I wiggled every part of his body, thinking the worst, but everything moved and nothing made him scream louder. He was just crying and saying "ow, ow, ow, ow!!!"  I put his shoes back on and carried him to the car. I figured he must have hurt himself, but he would stop crying by the time we got there. 

I pulled out the stroller thinking he could ride until he felt better, but he was still crying.  I asked him if he wanted to ride in the stroller or go home.  He told me "mama cars!" Then, I knew it was pretty bad.

Poor Gracie is frantic. I was fine, I figured he had twisted something.

She is pawing all over him and she looks panicked.  She tells me she just wants to take him home so he will be better (love that kid!!)

When we got home I put him in my bed and turned on the fan (we were hot!!)  He got the IPad and seemed to be better. Whiny, but better.  I gave him some Tylenol, and Gracie insisted on laying beside him.

It was already late afternoon, about 1pm.  I knew he needed a nap, so after a little more playing on the IPad, and I carried him to his bed. He protested, but I didn't think anything of it. he isn't usually gun-ho about taking a nap.

This awful lawnmower stared up next door about an hour later and woke him up--and now he is screaming again.

I knew it was really bad.

Gracie leapt into super big sister mode and she helped me get a bag ready, while I called the weekend line for our pediatricians office.  We were told to take him to KidMed, a pediatric urgent care.

Thomas was crying and miserable while we waited, and waited, and waited.

I was holding him tight and trying hard not to panic, but I was really worried now.  He kept saying "ow, ow, ow, ow!!" "Kiss it mama!!" I gave millions of kisses, but they just weren't working.

Every parent in there was staring at me. I know they felt bad for me, but I was dealing with enough, I could have done without the 20+ eyes on me.  The place was packed, and he was starting to cry really loudly and hard. I was walking him and rocking him, nothing was soothing him. He is heavy and my back and legs are screaming and I am really, really worried.

I texted Daddy to let him know where we were, and as soon as the text sent the phone crashes.  I never need that thing, and the one time I do it is useless!!

After 45 minutes we get called back and he screams at anyone who so much as looks at him.  Now it is even more of a nightmare, because the nurses can't get close.  The nurse practitioner on duty takes one look at his leg that has no bruising, no swelling, and gives me a knowing look I will never forget. She tells me he will need and x-ray and to give him some Motrin.

The other nurse comes back with the medicine and I get it in to him.

More waiting, and after another 15 minutes he starts to calm down and I get some relief from him.

Thankfully there was a phone in the room, so I call daddy and he is already on his way.

Daddy arrives in time to take him back to x-ray.  I didn't want to leave my baby at all--but daddy steps in and insists that I stay behind with Gracie.

More waiting.

The x-rays were inconclusive. She sees "a line" but isn't sure if it is a fracture.

We are told to alternate Tylenol and Motrin every 3 hours, and if he still won't bear wait on it by Monday to see the orthopedist.

Fast forward to today.  Of course we are at the orthopedist, because he *would* have to really have injured himself.

More hot waiting.

We get called back and this time he is an angel!  He lets this nurse practitioner look at him and touch him. I think he finally realized he was going to be helped--and she would make it better.  

We had to do more x-rays and he was golden! Not a peep, or a fuss. Of course he had done this part before.

More waiting.

She sees what she thinks is a fracture at the bottom of his leg, but is confused that he is holding the top.  Either way, she tells me, when a child of his age won't bear wait, it is a fracture.  So, she suggests a leg cast and says to see if he will walk on it. If after a few days he won't walk it means there is one in the top of his leg and to bring him back.

Nope, I am not putting him through more of this!!

Or, we can just do the full leg cast.

Option #2 please.

The nurse asks him to pick a color, which he won't do.  So, I pick something neutral.  (Gracie was eying that pink and I tell her out loud that she will not be putting her brother in pink.  She laughs)

Thomas was not happy having to get on the table. He had been safely in his stroller until this point.  But, he lets me hold on to him and his hand while they place a cast on my baby!

Not a whimper or a fuss. He watched them very closely.

That was it. It was all over.  She tells me not take this sock looking thing off for 30 minutes until it dries, but we are good to go.

They both get a lollipop and I get the heck out of there!  I was praying the whole time not to puke or faint or both. And, I am telling you it was a near thing many, many times!  I swear everyone was staring at us as we left. Either in pity for my toddler in a giant cast, or for the mama who was surely several shares of green.

 

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For the record, I know that this is not, nor will it be the hardest moment in my mommy-life, but for the past 48 hours, nothing could compare to the pain I felt--so as far as I was feeling: it was the end of the world--my baby was hurt, scared, and now walking around with a physical reminder of that day letting none of us forget and go back to life as it was for even a minute.

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