Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Accidents and Emergency Rooms

so i was going to blog on September 11th about the state of our country and religious freedom and blah blah blah.  i was planing on doing this huge thing about how being a pagan was getting scary anymore.  not because of anything "we" were doing, but how the religious right seemed to be in an almost violent fervor against anyone who didn't think exactly the same way they did.

then bubby pulled a cup of hot coco onto himself.

in a moment of blinding terror, i ripped off his shirt, got his diaper off of him, and got him into the bathtub splashing him with cold water.  all the while dialing 911 where hubby was working.  i got ahold of hubbs, and told him which hospital we were going to.  i made it there in three minutes. the er was a nightmare.  i don't remember most of what went on, i was so focused on bubby (and crying my eyes out).  my most vivid memory is that it took 4 adults to hold down a 7 month old child to put in his iv.  i know that aside from being in pain and scared, bubby calmed down when he was in my arms.  he just wanted his mommy.  and i know that i was mortified.

somewhere in my brain there was a voice saying "if you'd turned around a second or two earlier..."  "if you'd had iced dea in stead of hot coco..."  my head was filled with that voice telling me that his first accident was my fault, regardless of what every nurse, doctor, orderly or family member told me.  they all said the same thing.  "accidents happen, it's not your fault. 

i cried my eyes out, several times, convinced that i was the worst mother in the world.  that something was horribly wrong with me that i let this happen to my child.  to be perfectly honest, it took DAYS, but my brain finally listened to them.  it was an accident.  and the first of many. 

because bubby is already a little daredevil.  he doesn't like to be still.  wants to always be exploring.  there are going to be a lot more er visits in my future.  and possibly a heart attack to two.  now 11 days later, bubby has hardly a mark on him.  will probably never even remember that it happened.  mommy however has deep emotional scars that will probably never heal. 

so i'll be saving my religious tolerance blog for another time.  save for this:
as bad as it's getting, and trust me, it's getting bad.  i had my "naturally born pagan" shirt on when we raced to the er (and for the 18 hour stay in the burn unit)....  and no one even blinked an eye.  so there is hope.


  1. From my experience, children below the age of 8 are impossible to break.

    (Said the girl with the gazillion scars from games - climbing trees, falling off trees, playing with dogs, being bitten by dogs, running, jumping, falling - and nothing ever happened. Except for that one time when I broke my leg with the bone sticking out... )

    I believe that it is much more scarring for children to have overprotective parents who want to keep them from harm, than to occasionally fall off something, burn their fingers or cut themselves.

    You're doing fine. (When I burned myself, my mother held the hand under cold water and put me back into the kids' room.)

  2. Remind me to tell you of the time I gouged a chunk of flesh out of Jeffrey's foot when grabbing it while driving to keep him from kicking my seat. It's parenting at its best.

    (Point being, I feel you, my friend.)