If It's Not One Thing, It's Another

So here's the email I got at work yesterday.  With the subject of "Call Me".

Yes, that is Brantley with a band-aid on his forehead and a blood-soaked shirt. 

Of course, I immediately panicked.  Even though {clearly} he seems to be doing alright in the picture.  Call it the mom-reaction, I suppose.  After I convinced myself that surely he was okay, the emotions started - I got teary eyed at the thought of what in the world had happened and felt the need to be there--right away.  I told my students I needed to make a phone call and went into the hall to call the hubs.  No answer.  Twice.  And then I listened to the voicemail he had left me prior to the above email.  The poor hubs could barely hold it together, but managed to mutter the words that Brantley was fine...just needed some stitches.

I called Miss Stephanie at daycare and got the lowdown.  Brantley had fallen up the wooden garage stairs and had about an inch (in length) gash on his forehead.  Five plus minutes after the accident and it hadn't stop bleeding.  So what did Miss Stephanie do?  Call 911, of course.  Probably a little overboard, but as a daycare provider, I'm sure she'd rather feel safer than sorry.  And I can't imagine it's easy to take care of four other 2, 3, and 4-year olds while another is bleeding profusely from the head.

Then, of course, she called Craig.

The paramedics arrived and got his poor forehead to stop bleeding, but suggested that he would probably need stitches.  Craig was already en route to daycare and said he would transport Brantley to the ER himself (instead of paying for an ambulence ride).  But before they left daycare, he sent me the above picture.

Note to hubby: never again send me a bloody picture of my child without details!!  I'm certain he did it on purpose. :)

I decided to stay at school because there was nothing I could do if I went to meet them.  And boy, am I glad I did.  The hubs spent the next couple of hours at Children's Mercy Urgent Care.  He was describing everything to me last night, and I think it's safe to assume I probably would have passed out.  Between Craig (plus two more nurses) having to hold Brantley down, Brantley screaming for his life like never before, and the hook they used to stitch poor Brantley's forehead...yeah, let's just say I'm happy to have missed all of that.

Three stitches later and he's back to his normal self.  Running, climbing, being crazy, and acting ornery.  I was on edge all last night as I was sure he was going to fall and do further damage.  I just kept repeating, "This is only 18 months...I have no earthly idea how I'm going to make it 18 years with two rough and tough, accident-proned boys."  Sigh...

That undershirt used to be white...

So it wasn't our first trip to the ER and I'm certain it won't be our last either.  And now we have two living beings in our house with stitches.  I guess it's the theme of the week! :)

On a side note, Miss Stephanie said Brantley loved the firetruck that came to the rescue.  That's when he finally stopped crying--when he saw the truck with flashing lights.  So next week at daycare, they have plans to visit the fire station for a {happier} tour of the firetruck and to thank the paramedics with a plate of cookies.  How sweet is that?!

Whew, what a week it's been!  TGIF, everyone!

(For a recap of our first trip to the ER, click here.)
(And for another couple of instances that had me questioning whether to take him, click here.)

1 comment:

  1. You poor thing! I saw this picture on instagram and almost started crying too - and I don't even "know" him! Just makes me sad too from a mommy perspective. I keep telling myself to prepare for this moment with Charlie, as like you said, 18 months is a rough age, especially for boys!

    Pregnancy hormones probably aren't doing us any favors as well :) Hang in there! So glad he's ok and was able to make the best of it!!