The day that every mother (at least of the testosterone variety) dreads happened last Thursday.
Yes, indeed, we made our inaugural visit to the emergency room. The rain had just started to fall and captured a certain 14 month old’s interest. Steps were scaled to view said rain from a much heartier vantage point – face to face with it through the window screen. I assure you I was no less than twelve inches away from him when he lunged toward me and toppled off the stair. This has happened before, hence my deliberate closeness to that cherub of mine. You see, I think he really believes he is not a darling little baby, boy - bur rather a rambunctious, adventurous, climbing monkey. Glory be, he actually only fell from one step, though to be sure visions of his body being tossed down the stairs (all three of them) coursed through my head with wicked succession until he was assuredly safe in my arms. I set him down at the bottom of the steps only to discover that he did not stand, but toppled. I was sadly reminded of the snippet my mother often utters, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” Um, this Weeble definitely fell down.
I picked him up and tried again but his ankle simply rolled while the rest of his body followed suit.
I waited for my mother to get to the house to assess the situation with me from a decidedly calmer point of view. Grandmothers may not be the best persona to try to help convince you that everything will indeed be alright. She, instead, wasted no time in persuading me to take him to have it looked at – just to be sure. Thursdays are one of the days that I watch my friend’s little girl, and so my mother took over her care and Cutter and I went off to the emergency room.
For a first time experience, this was a good one to have. No ‘true’ emergency, but imperative nonetheless. We checked in and logged our injury and a nurse valiantly attempted to get his blood pressure. Bless her heart; it just wasn’t going to happen. We arrived in our treatment room sans recorded vitals, but with a child whose eyes were sad and heavy. I feel I must now let it be known that my son has never taken a nap on me (save for the first week or so of his life) and instead has always opted to do so on his father or other family members. I must admit at times I feel very left out by this sleeping exhibition, but on Thursday Cutter gave me a memory that is indelibly marked on my heart forever. He was pointing at the bed and I assumed he wanted to sit down so sit we did. Oh no, that just would not do, and so we stood. Pointing still, we sat again – for a few minutes we continued this back and forth before I realized he wanted me to lay down so that he could lay down on my chest.
My heart went a flutter and tears welled up – Cutter napped on me in the emergency room. I tell you, that half an hour was precious beyond words to me. I cannot even begin to describe it to you.
After he woke they took him for an x-ray which showed that indeed no bones were broken and it was simply a sprained ankle. Hallelujah!
Please forgive me while I recount that while I was so relieved to hear that he was whole and complete, I could not have been more thankful for that nap. It was the perfect gift from God to spend that time not only praying over my son, but simply being with him and resting with him in my arms. That just does not happen in our day - did I mention already that he believes he is a monkey? Monkeys don't cuddle, or rest - ever. Certainly it was not an experience I care to relive daily or even monthly for that matter, but sakes alive that nap was pure and unadulterated joy to me.
Emergency Room visit complete.
I am sure there will be many more to come in this boy’s future. He’s practically a monkey reincarnate.
|From my cell phone: waiting in the emergency room|