Scarred.

I just knew something was wrong--in that awful way you just know. She was running, having been sent to her room, and she slipped and fell. Whacked her face. She got up, crying, and continued to her time out. And I just knew.

So I followed her to her room.

"Did you just hit your face, baby?" I asked.

She held her face in both hands and I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down.

Blood.

Big, fat, crimson, drops on her purple sheet.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked, prying her hands away.

Flowing. Pouring. In a way that was so, so, wrong, I instantly knew beyond any doubt, we were headed to the emergency room. And stitches.

The beautiful ingredients for my dinner were all prepared and laid out, ready. I'd baked a cake for my sister's birthday. And just like that--our plans changed. In an instant, everything was different. Upside down.

My emotions went wherever they go when there's a crisis. Away. I become super calm and organized. Getting the directions to the best ER and heading out with a panicky pre-schooler, leaving behind my husband, son and our soon-to-be-arriving dinner guests. Luck was with us and the hospital was great and we were in and out in under an hour. I know. I KNOW.

They swaddled my baby and stuck her with a needle and sewed her lip back together, while she cried and yelled, "I want to leave RIGHT NOW!" and, "EVERYONE TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" and my belly got woozy and my heart broke into a bazillion pieces, even when my head was all, "It's only four stitches. Get over yourself. SHE'S FINE."

And she was. Is.

Fine.

There's something about it, though. About the knowledge that one minute you can be fixing an awesome dinner and the next minute, things can, well, change. Something about those tense moments, that time when realization blooms and you know--know--things aren't going the way you thought they were going to go. For whatever reason, for me, it dipped right into the place where the memories surrounding my mother's dying live. The place where tragedies alter not only your plans, but your life. That place is hard to find when you're looking for it but you recognize it in a flash, when you're passing through it.

I know a woman whose son was attacked by a dog. He required stitches all over his torso, arms and legs. His mother grieved for his skin, for the scars that would mark him now, forever. Even though I was childless at the time, I understood her sadness, her sense of loss. On the way to the hospital with my girl, I remembered her. I remembered her grief as I thought about my daughter's face. Flawless up until now. This will be her first real scar.

When I got home, I ate the take-out The Man ordered after he'd butchered the dinner I'd intended. We sang happy birthday and cut the cake. I ate a piece as big as my head. And when everyone went home and the kids were snuggle-buggle in bed, my feelings came back from wherever it is they go in a crisis.

And I bawled my eyes out, even though she's fine.

She'll have a scar.

And so will I.

Comments

[Swistle]

I identify with this feeling SO HARD, I got queasy just THINKING about that feeling.

I'm glad she's okay, and I'm sad you all had to go through this.

[Manic Mommy]

I'm amazed she continued to time out.

We've been down the stitches/staples road twice with each boy. The calm is welcome. The aftermath sucks. I'm not at all surprised this crisis dredged up so much else.

[slouchy]

Oh, sigh. I'm glad she wasn't hurt worse, though -- no concussion or hidden damage.

Take care of the both of you.

[kayla]

Oh I am so sorry you went through this!! It is such a horrible spot to be in. It is part of the whole kid thing. I broke my head so many times "dancing" (someone should have told me to stop dancing like a fool) and each time my mother would go to the back of the house (yes leaving me alone) and start screaming and slamming herself against the walls!!!! I would think you handled it well.

My son is only two and my daughter is 13. NO bad things yet with my daughter and the only bad thing with my son was my daughter's fault.

READY for a funny!!

So my son was about 5-6 months and I was cooking dinner. I tell my daughter to play with her brother for a few minutes while I finish up. So she grabs him gently by the hands and starts to make him "walk".. WELl he slips off her hands and lands on his face. I am in the kitchen and I hear the thud and I sad "Em what happened" to which she screams at the top of her lungs "MOMMMY I THINK I KILLED JACK" and she starts screaming and crying and saying JESUS HELP ME (we are not religous and yes she takes up after my mother). I go to the living room and find the 6 month old with his mouth WIDE OPEN crying not able to get out and covered in BLOOD!!!

Turn off the oven, grab a towel, stick him in the carseat (my husband was still working) and I go to the hospital. About an hour later (I am still waiting) my husband comes in with TWO diaper bags full of "stuff" NONE of which are diapers or wipes!!

I laugh now!!! I laugh NOW!!

Hang in there

[Lori in Iowa]

I am too pregnant (36 wks with #4) and too tired to think of a way to say this better...but MAN you are a great writer! Everytime I visit your blog I always think to myself, "She so GETS it!". It's a relief.

At the end of May my 2 yr old had accidental nicotine poisioning (my SIL left her nicotine mints on the table opened) and I was in the place you speak off. Luckily my daughter is okay (after an overnight hospital stay and tubes up her nose and heart monitors and and and) And although everything is alright now, I still flash back to moments of it and feel the horror I couldn't let myself feel during it.

I'm glad TLNG is okay. And I'm glad you're okay.

Lori in Iowa

[Beth from SJ]

Sorry you had to experience this...but thankful for you putting your feelings into words. My daughter was 3 when she was attacked by my dad's dog, I was just about to have my 2nd glass of wine. It was awful, her nose & her mouth & the fact she wouldn't tell us what happened until we got to the hospital. She then said she didn't want anyone mad at the dog. My heart. That night, my daughter slept next to me while I sobbed. She's 8, and yes, has 2 scars, but she barely remembers and guess what? She loves dogs!

[BarnMaven]

That moment when you realize the ER visit needs to happen is the worst. Glad she is OK ... Hugs.

[Stacie]

:( It happens. IT HAPPENS. But uttering the words doesn't make things easier. Or the feeling less guiltty. Or less traumatic-ish. Just memorabile. In a not a good way. Sorry life threw you a curveball...but glad TLNG is ok. And you too.

[Forgotten]

Oh, tons of love to you. I have been there more times then I can count. With my kids it's breathing issues instead of bloody issues. They have asthma and every cold goes straight to their chest. Middle of the night nebulizer treatments and inhalers are a commonplace thing at my house. I'm practically a pro, I can tell which vial is which by touch I've done them so often. I'm glad she's ok and I'm glad you're ok and I'm sure she will be fine with a minimal scar. Get some Mederma though. :)

[Sarahviz]

Our first bout with stitches happened yesterday. And I, too, go into a Zone when stuff like this happens. And then afterwards, much later, I simply crumble.

[jive turkey]

I know that had to have been a tough day, but this post is beautiful.