Stitches

Last night, while I was cooking dinner, my youngest jumped off the top of the couch down to the lower cushions. Getting up on top of the couch is strictly against the rules. The boys got quite a lesson in why that exact rule exists.

As A was jumping down, his foot got caught and he hit face first against the edge of the coffee table. Split his eyebrow right open. Poor little guy was screaming and crying, saying how much it hurt, while Dan held him and tried to comfort while I called the pediatrician. The office has late hours, so we grabbed a teether from the freezer (keep several of these on hand for bumps and bruises) and some gauze to keep pressed against the wound, and packed into the car. I sat between the boys so I could help hold the ice pack and hold his hand, since it still hurt quite a bit.

Got to the office where we were ushered into a room pretty quickly. A was very still and quiet, still hurting. The doctor took one look at the gash (almost an inch across) and told us to go to the ER for stitches. So back in the car we all went, Dan driving ever so carefully over the bumps in the road. At the ER A wanted me to stay with him, so Dan and R stayed outside and got paperwork done while we waited for a bed. Got a room and soon after a doctor came by, took one look at the wound, exclaimed, and come back with suturing supplies. About half an hour later a different doctor came in, looked at the wound, looked at the tray, then whisked it away and came back with completely different supplies. Guess everyone has their favorite set up. Meanwhile, I held A's hand and talked to him quietly. He kept telling me how much it hurt, which broke my heart. I kept wishing I could do anything at all to make it all better besides simply being there.

The doctor and a nurse came back into the room. Then the really hard part: the ever dreaded shot full of lidocaine. I held A's hands and tried to soothe him, but he kept screaming and yelling, "It hurts! Oh, it hurts so much! I want to go home now!" I simply held him and comforted as best I could, but it was so hard to let someone do something that caused him so much pain. Finally the numbing medicine kicked in and he grew quiet as the doctor started stitching. Smart doctor - he told A he was just washing everything, that it wouldn't hurt, and that he'd go home very soon. A didn't even know he was getting stitches and was relieved that the pain was finally gone. Once everything was done I told him that he had stitches that would hold everything together so it could heal.

He thought about this and then seemed satisfied. "I got six stitches! I have to show everyone at school tomorrow!" Suddenly the fear and pain was forgotten, to be replaced with something new and exciting. Much like when I first labored and gave birth to him almost five years ago. Love you, sweetheart. Hoping this is the last time you get stitches, but know that I'll be there if you need me again, any time.