It’s one of those heart-wrenching moments of Mom-dom.
I was a Stay At Home mom, living a 24/7 child-centred life. Exhausted, frustrated, worn out, busybusybusy. Hard enough to keep things going at a regular pace without some kind of blood soaked emergency rearing its’ ugly head.
It was a typical day at home with 3 kids: 6, 2 and 1 year old. Doing what I did all day, housework, diaper changes, you know the drill. The two youngest were in my bedroom with me, and I was doing what most parents do with their kids. I was telling one or both of them to stop doing something, but they weren’t stopping. Seriously?! What made me think they would listen, when I didn’t listen to my own parents, and they in turn, ignored their own parents. It’s handed down from generation to generation, this Closing of Ears Syndrome.
On this particular day, it was the 2 year old who was jumping on my bed. Yes, I know, jumping on your parent’s bed is AWESOME and who wants to stop?! The problem is that bed jumping often leads to bed falling, which is exactly what happened. But instead of falling on the bed, which would have been a great way to go, my darling child fell chin first onto the foot-board of the bed, splitting it open (the chin not the foot-board) and proceeded to bleed profusely, which is the worst kind of bleeding as far as I’m concerned.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, I don’t drive. And even if I did, hubby had the car at work. How to quickly, and easily transport 3 children, one who is bleeding profusely, remember, to the hospital. We were all in pyjamas, and not fit for public viewing. Well, they were cute in their pj’s, me, not so much. Solution: Call a neighbour!
While all of this planning is going through my head, I’m also panicking. Because my poor baby weighed all of a Buck and a quarter soaking wet and I’ve NEVER seen that much of any fluid come of the little mite as what I was seeing that day. Not to mention the Bad Mother Guilt Trip I was taking myself on at that moment.
Somehow, as happens in times of distress, I managed to grow 4 extra arms, which allowed me to hold a towel to the ruptured chin, dress the child, pack a snack bag for the other two to take to the neighbour, change myself into something less oogie than a blood stained nightgown, call a cab and head to the hospital.
Our E.R. experience is a posting for another time. Suffice it to say she survived the ordeal with no memory of the pain and bloodshed, plus she’s got a really cool scar to show off!