Stitches before Christmas

Eight kids and my first ever trip to the ER for stitches.

(Should have gone to urgent care and saved the $150 ER copay.)

Our night was calm, our home was happy.  Christmas tree lights twinkled, magical icicles around our windows gleamed, and dinner talk centered on Secret Santa and teacher gift ideas.  When Eve came downstairs with her pink fuzzy sheet, I showed her how to sit down and her cute siblings took turns pulling her around the kitchen, living room, entry way circle. 

Darn that one step from the living room to the kitchen.  They gently pulled her over it a few times but finally, one smack, Eve crying, and confused laughter that turned into alarm when someone spotted "Blood!"  One glance and I knew.  There would be no early bedtimes at my house that night.

I called Todd who tried to tell me to apply pressure and maybe it wasn't that bad.  I had scared and screaming children in the background and I said-- "I have mothered for 16 years and have never taken my kids to the ER for stitches.  I know when we need to go.  Meet me there.  Can't talk now."

As I tried to stop the bleeding, I called friends who would need to pick my other kids up from lessons for me.  I assigned my big kids dishes, Ben, little kid bedtimes.  No Screens.  Say a prayer.  Everything is going to be OK.

Eve calmed down in the car and we talked over what you can do if you're scared.  I explained that doctors and nurses are nice people.  They are mommies and daddies who go to school to learn how to help people heal. The most important thing, I told her, is to stay still.  If your scared you can cry, or squeeze mom's hand, or count to ten, or sing, or watch TV... But, don't shake your head, lay still.

We talked about being brave.  Being brave doesn't mean you don't feel scared.  It means you try to be still even if you're afraid.

Big concepts for a three year old.  But, she was the bravest little three year old I've ever seen.

The kids at home called often for updates.

They put some gel on a gauze and let it sit to knumb her chin.

The nurses were wonderful.

The first doctor who came was a large, duck dynasty man.  He was huge, gruff, and a bit intimidating.  He asked Eve what happened and how she got so much blood all over her?  Grrr.  We had just gotten her calm and he was scaring her again pointing out the blood.  When she was quiet, he assumed she was scared and said "Are you afraid you're going to get in trouble?  Are you in trouble for what you did?"  Seriously?!!

I stepped in and stopped that interaction, protectively.  I immediately knew that he was not the doctor who was going to stitch her up.  Nope.

In my nice but firm voice I expressed concern for the scar on her face and asked for a plastic surgeon to stitch her up.  There was no plastic surgeon on call, but they did have an ENT who was used to delicate sewing.  Sounded good to me.  

When the doctor left, Todd explained that her chin wouldn't even show the scar.  I told him, I really was not worried about the scar, I was more concerned with the doctor.  He smiled, because he knew I was right.

The ENT was the cutest young doctor.  He was gentle, kind and smiley.  He wanted to try and stitch her without general anesthesia or Versad up her nose.  "Sometimes they do better when they aren't loopy," he explained.  "Let's get an iPad and try to distract her."  Yes, he was the man.

Stitches were gross and hard for me to watch.  I'm more squeamish than I should be.

Oh, that sweet little face.  My brave girl.

One red Popsicle and all was well.

There was a child specialist there who was wonderful.  Before I left, I asked her to talk with the first resident who worked with us.  Maybe she could explain to him that pointing out bloody shirts or insinuating that a 3 year old would get in trouble because she was hurt might not be the best way to approach the situation.  

We were home before 11pm, which I thought was another miracle.

Eve is fine.

Todd hugged me and told me how much he enjoys our hospital dates.  

Ha!

Oh my life.

My house is on Screen Lock Down till Christmas because there was some confusion about what "No Screens, Go To Bed" meant.  

I'm actually looking forward to it. 

Life is good!!! Soo good.

Even with stitches.

Be safe.  Merry Christmas!!

I'm so grateful for healthcare in America and Pinkie Poo Bunny.

(Picture credits go to Todd-- I was a bit too focused to document.  Anna did ask us to take a lot of pictures because she really wanted to come watch and couldn't.  She'll be a great nurse someday.)