Holdin' it together

A random comment at supper got me thinking.

How many times as a mother have I been scared out of my mind?

You see, we were talking about the little bump on Grace's forehead.  The one she's had all her life, but which we really haven't noticed till maybe the last year.  It's not a huge bump, and if she had bangs, it would totally be covered up, but it's just something a little more pronounced on one side.

Brent made the comment that maybe it was from when she fell out of her high chair when she was 9 months old.

Oh yeah, you heard me.  She scared the willies out of me.

It reminded me that there have been so many times (maybe more than there should've been) that my kids have been hurt pretty bad, and to be strong for them, I had to hold my fear in check.

When Grace was 9 months old, she had a habit of standing up in her high chair, even while strapped in.  One time, while both our heads were turned, she preceded to do it and fall out of her highchair and onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen.

I felt like the worst mother in the world, and being my first child, I thought I had ruined her.  She was undaunted, however, and did it again a couple days later.  (The standing up, NOT the falling.)

Then, when she was 3, she was playing with an exercise band which just so happened to be hanging around the door handle of the stairway door.  It had a wooden block on it, and somehow, she snapped it, and it came back and hit her square on the chin.  She was 3, Evan was 2, and she was bleeding quite a lot.  I held it together long enough to cover her chin, and call Brent to meet us in the emergency room.
Brave trouper that she was, she never cried a bit.  She got 3 stitches I think and today, you can't even see the place where it happened on her chin.

I had several years in between her and Evan's exploits.

When Evan was in kindergarten I got a call at home.  He had gotten hurt on the playground, and I should probably come in and get him, and take him to the doctor to see if he needed stitches.
First of all, this is NOT the call you want to get, ever.
I flew into school (breaking all the speed limits, I'm sure) and saw the very deep cut in his bottom lip.
Since doctors LOVE their lunch hours, and this happened over lunch hour, we had to wait about an hour to be seen.
To say he was terrified was an understatement, and I was shaking as well.  It took the nurse and I and God to hold him down long enough for the doctor to numb his lip and put in only one stitch.  We were all sweating from the exertion of the act.
We were not home even an hour before that little sucker ripped out the one stitch it took the doctor 20 minutes to put in.  I coulda creamed him.  The next day, you couldn't even tell he had a cut in his lip!

He did give me 4 years reprieve, though before he did something like that again.
Last Friday, which I later learned was the 13th (go figure), didn't turn out quite as I had hoped.  We had a 2 hour delay due to snow, which was great, and at 9:45 the kids and I headed into school.
I was delivering papers to the teachers, to be passed out before the end of the day, and I had just turned into Grace and Evan's hallway.  I was heading to Evan's classroom, when I saw him and his teacher heading toward me.  Only Evan's teacher had his hand to the back of Evan's head, and they both looked pretty serious and concerned.  As they got closer, his teacher said to me, he's had an accident.  My heart literally stopped I think.  I saw blood on the back of his shirt collar, and on Evan's hand.  I immediately forgot about the papers in my hand, and followed them down to the nurse's office.  Being the efficient nurse that she is, she took things under hand and got all of us under control.  I ran to my room and called the doctor and asked to be seen, not knowing what she would do.  We left, with his head wrapped commando-style, and headed the 5 miles to the doctor.  The 10 minute ride seemed as long as an hour.

We were seen right away and an hour later, we left with 5 stitches in the back of his head, just under his hair where no one could see.  He wanted to go back to school, so we did, and arrived just in time for him to have lunch.  He later told me the girls swarmed him and wanted to make sure he was ok.    Little stud.  :-)

I'm due for a couple years reprieve again, right.  Or maybe a lifetime would suffice.
I just can't handle the fear that goes along with wondering if your child will be ok, and trying to hold yourself in check all at the same time.  How do people who don't have God in their lives, get through it?  I don't know, and can't imagine.  He's the rock you cling to, praying the whole time for the sake of your child, or your friend, or your family member, or even yourself.
Thank heaven he's in my life.  Thank heaven he's healed my children over and over and over again.
Thank heaven he gives me strength as a mother, because believe me, I need it!