This entire day has felt sideways. It’s as if my reality has shifted a bit. Strangely, it feels eerily similar to when we first brought our newborn daughter home from the hospital a dozen years ago. I clearly remember how impossible it was to sleep that first night. I was so worried that at some point in the night that she might stop breathing. Burned into my memory from that night was the realization that my strength has some very definite limits. That night I learned the meaning of faith. “Please, dear God, let my daughter live through the night. Please keep my little angel safe from harm.”
There was no reason to fear that something bad would happen, her body was very strong and healthy. The problem was with me – I had no power to control the situation. I could make sure that she was in safe surroundings. But that night, that was all that I could control, and I was not prepared for such a realization.
The reason that this day has had a similar feeling is because yesterday I spent the day in two different – and I cannot stress how different – hospitals with a broken child. My little angel had fallen to the ground while playing a game at church and when she reached for the ground to brace for the fall, her arm twisted awkwardly causing three major fractures. I was standing nearby when the accident happened so I scooped her up as quickly as I could and within moments I was holding her in the back of a dear friend’s minivan as we raced across town to an Emergency Room. With every bump in the road her pain intensified and each scream was soul-wrenched. I was helpless to ease her pain, and with each wail, I lost a day of my life.
I did what I could – I stroked the tears from her face, I held her body as steady as possible, I called the ER to let them know that I was bringing in a badly injured girl. None of it was enough. She was in incredible pain and she desperately wanted it to stop, but Daddy couldn’t make it stop.
When we rushed into the reception area of the ER, I expected to be met by a team of trauma nurses, not an admissions clerk who was solely focused on keeping the situation calm. As Elizabeth screamed, we filled out the appropriate paperwork and then stood alone in the empty waiting room…just waiting. I studied the place trying to find the right doors to tear off of their hinges so that my daughter could receive medical attention. Eventually we were taken to an exam room where a group of polite nurses, and an attending physician let us know that their hospital could not take care of my daughter, and that we would have to move her to Arkansas Children’s Hospital.
Our time at ACH was a blur of compassion and healing. Many doctors met with us to determine what had happened and what would be best for her restoration to full health. We consulted with the anesthesiologist and wheeled Elizabeth into the surgery center. One of the state’s top pediatric orthopedic surgeons performed the operation, and within a span of four hours our family was on our way home.
Now after a day has passed, Elizabeth is resting well and her three broken bones are healing. My healing is taking place in a different way. I think that I’ve been broken for a while and this window into the reality of control (or lack thereof) may make things right. With that, I’ll say goodnight.
I am exhausted. I had no idea how tiring not-ripping doors off hinges and not-strangling people could be.
I’m out of words, now..
First, I want to say how grateful we are that she is healing. I’ve broken 3 arms and I can attest to the pain.
Second, your willingness to bear your soul and tell your story becomes a touchstone. It acts as an introspective mirror that causes me (and others I’m sure) to see their own failings of faith.
I don’t have kids yet so I can’t dare imagine such a feeling. But as a control freak myself who is used to taking care of things the most difficult lesson that I must continually relearn is the faith to let go.
I’ve got no wisdom but I’m with my brother.
So terribly sorry! My heart hurts for each of you. Praying that she is out of pain and heals quickly and thoroughly! Love ya’ll!
I feel for you all. My little boy fractured his femur on April 1st this year – 3 days before his 3rd birthday. He was in a body cast for 6 weeks of sheer hell. I held him in the back seat on the way to the ER and he was also transported by ambulance to another hospital. I can remember keeping it together for several hours, but then I lost it sometime in the wee hours when they told us he may be in the hospital for several weeks! Luckily that didn’t happen and we went home the next day as well. My SuperAWESOMEAunt [who would do anything for my kids] accidentally overdosed him on Valium 3 days later – back to the ER we went and watched him sleep there for a few hours..just when I didn’t think it could get any worse… it did heal, it was a mess, you’d never know anything at all was ever wrong with his leg now.
The kind gestures of others during that time was amazing and humbling, so nice to know you and your babies are really loved.
Good luck to you and your precious one, may this painful time pass quickly. …and spoil that girl for a while!
Sorry to hear of all the pain you both went through. One day it will be a family story that she’ll tell her kids. “How Granddad Took Care of Me”
Monkey Boy had to have very minor surgery on his eyes twice when he was less than a year old. I actually walked in circles in the waiting room clutching my stomach after they took him back… and away from me. I didn’t even know I was doing it. Baby Daddy made me sit down because I was making other people nervous. He said I looked like I might be a fear biter.
It is the most wretched feeling in the world to simply sit and wait for someone else to fix your child. It is terrifying and humbling on a level I can feel and not articulate.
I’m so glad she is healing. I’m even more glad she has parents like you and her mother.
I know it is only 7:13 a.m., but I already feel that this is the blog of the day.
Thank you for sharing the story and the account of your evolving emotions. I learned a lot.
All our best to your recovering daughter!
love e- love you and sb… thank you for sharing what was a gut-wrenching, terrifying, absolutely helpless feeling day. having taken thing 1 to the ER several times- i’m always amazed at the level of care and compassion that ACH offers… ;your little angel will soon be high flying again…
To this day, when I get hurt, the first thing I think is “I want my Mom!” There’s just something about the nearness of that comfort that can only come from a parent.
A while back, I was facing a strange/difficult situation, and I talked to my Mom about it a lot. She kept saying how she hated the fact that she couldn’t do anything to make it better, and how she hated to see me so worried and upset. But really, just hearing her voice and her words was enough for me.
I’m so glad that your precious girl got the treatment that she needed and is on the road to recovery.
thanks, bryan.
Bryan, I find therapy in writing. I see that in this post, as well. I had the same thoughts when we brought Anna Grace home as a baby. The thought of something like this happening to my princess makes me want to throw up. We’ll be praying for fizzylizzy. And her dad, too.