Train potty

Ouch

Today, Nate started ripping up the linoleum in our back stairway (totally different post, holy man it's definitely looking wayyyyy worse before it will look any better) so I was entertaining the kids. It was about 5:00pm and I has just checked in online for Truman's haircut, and we had about 45 minutes to kill apparently. We had the two front doors opened up so just the screen door was closed, since we aren't going to be using the back entrance anytime soon with the asbestos/nastiness/disaster that is the stairway back there.

Then I had to pee. So, in typical mommy fashion I went a few steps away to the bathroom and kept the door open to remain accessible to the kids--who were playing in the front entry way when I left them.

And then I heard it: a scream so high-pitched that I couldn't quite place it at first. Then I realized it was Cecelia. Then she stopped and took it an octave higher and I knew she wasn't just squealing to be funny and loud. It was like nothing I've ever heard before and something I never hope to hear again.

I think I screamed, 'WHAT???!!!' as I ran out of the bathroom. I tossed my shorts to the side and pulled up my underwear the best I could while bolting to the front door. There I saw CC sitting on the ground, holding up her left hand, and wailing the scariest cry I've heard. I think I asked Truman what happened and I think he said 'her hand was in the door' but I was in panic mode. Her left forefinger and thumb looked completely flattened to me when I first stared at them. They were very white and had huge lines in them on the front and back of each finger, obvious marks from where the door slammed into her skin. She must have been holding the doorframe on the inside of the hinges when Truman tried to shut the front door. I still feel ill thinking about how hard he must have tried to close that door and how much pain she must have felt as her two fingers were smashed between the wood. And how scared and confused she must have been.

I scooped her up, ran to the kitchen, and started putting her hand under cold water. I yelled for Nate through the closed back door and he came running. I threw together an ice pack and tried to apply it but she would not allow such a thing no matter how much I tried. I kept telling her that it was alright but when Nate and I were looking at it, I honestly didn't know. We are both in healthcare and don't get squeamish about these things but man, it looked pretty awful. Both fingers were swelling up, both had cuts on them on each side of the fingers, and they seemed to be bruising already.

Nate asked, 'Should we take her to Children's?' and I said, 'I don't to put her through that if the fingers aren't broken. Do you think they could have crush injuries? Could they be dislocated?' He didn't know either, but we both agreed that babies have very pliable bones when they are this young. She wouldn't let us touch them and wasn't trying to move the fingers. She was just screaming bloody murder with huge tears streaming down her face.

I took her to the playroom and got her calm down for about 5 minutes with nursing her. That's when I noticed how distraught Truman was through all of this. He kept saying, 'I'm sorry CC. It was an accident. I didn't see your hand there.' Then he offered her Monkey---the mecca of all comforters---and two of his favorite trains. He kissed her and said, 'I don't like her to cry, mommy.' That's when I felt my eyes welling up with tears, too.

I asked Nate to get Ibuprofen and CC took it willingly. She nursed for a bit longer, then just pulled off and stared at her hand and cried. I had pretty much convinced myself that the fingers were not broken, that the cuts were not bad enough for stitches, and we'd just have to watch the swelling and keep her happy.

Which was not an easy task. I had to hold her and even then it was iffy. We decided to ditch our more elaborate dinner plans (grilling the bacon-wrapped pork loins I had bought at the store to go with corn on the cob and mashed potatoes....mmmmm) because it was nearly 5:35 already. All four of us packed into Nate's car and went to Truman's haircut appointment because we figured we needed to get out of the house anyway. Cecelia got a sucker right along with her brother at that appointment and she went shopping next door at the grocery store with Nate while I stayed with T. They got us sushi and edamame and we all headed back home for dinner.

Tried to get a few pictures, but none are that great. Her swollen thumb with the cut on the outside of the thumb.


Poor baby showing me where it hurts:(


Cut on the inside of the thumb, too


Owies.


Once we got back home CC started to seem more like herself. She was using the left hand and playing with Truman, only occasionally getting weepy and gesturing to her poor fingers. They were really swollen and might even be worse tomorrow morning but I definitely think we made the right decision by avoiding the ER. Truman was still feeling pretty protective over his sister all night, being extra sweet and cautious with her, sharing his toys and trying to get her to laugh. I think he took this the hardest out of our bunch.

She will be fine, kids are so resilient, but oh I despise this part of parenting. Seeing your child in pain is simply excruciating. It could have been so much worse and I'm grateful that Cecelia is going to be just fine. My heart always aches for those parents who have to see their children in pain long term with chronic illnesses, or much more severe injuries than a measly slammed finger in a doorway. I know I'm not a bad mom for taking a pee break and leaving them alone for 5 seconds, but of course I would give anything to have been watching as Truman tried to shut that door. I'm pretty sure he will never try to shut a door without checking his sister's location first again.

Thankful it wasn't any worse. And thankful for my beer right now.