I Know Accidents Happen…But I Still Feel Horrible

I’m not the kind of mom who freaks out over every little scrape and bruise my kids get. At least not anymore. Maybe I was with my first one. But after number two, three, and four…you loosen up a little. “Get up. You’re okay. Brush it off. Quit crying.” And we go on. There’s no time for excessive whining. Get up and get over it. Unless it needs bandaged, then you get a few more extra hugs and kisses before we go on with it.

But what happened the Monday before last was terrible. I have never seen anything like it and don’t ever want to again. I’m still in a little bit of shock from the accident. Especially since it was my fault. It was an accident, though. And I know accidents happen…but I still feel horrible.

We were just going out the back door to let the dogs in and I shut the door behind me to wipe off muddy dog paws. Collin screamed. Everything happened so fast. Instinctively I flew the door open. Holy crap, it was shut all the way with his fingers in it! I grabbed him up and put him on the counter to look at it. That’s when I about passed out. The tip of his little pinky finger was hanging off, like the top of a flip top box of Crayola crayons. It was so unnatural looking. It looked dead It was purple and black and bloody. It looked like something from a horror movie. It was just hanging there by a tiny piece of skin. Blood was gushing out of a gaping hole and he was screaming. Tears ran down my face and I was freaking out. It was chaos, adrenaline, screaming, panic, frantic phone calls, and a million things all at once.

There were so many thoughts rushing and zinging through my head as I was trying to calm down (which I wasn’t doing a very good job at) and comfort my severely hurt child. And with each scream the blood gushed out of his finger even faster, obliterating a hand towel, and I was having a hard time not breaking down with him. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I called Brad immediately. I don’t even remember what I said. I was screaming at him because I was trying to yell over Collin’s screaming. I made sure he got the basics. Come home. Leave now. Emergency room. It’s bad. Hurry. Collin’s finger is practically falling off. It got shut in the door. Or something like that.

And you know, adrenaline does crazy things. All the while I am holding onto him and trying to comfort him, “Hold on, baby. Daddy’s coming. We’re going to go to the doctor and fix it,” and these crazy thoughts just kept screaming in my head each time I looked at his severed finger or the blood drops on the floor. What have I done? Holy crap! His fingers going to fall off! I’m a horrible mother. Don’t let that finger fall off. BREATH. If it does keep track of it so they can sew it back on. BREATH. I’m a horrible mother. I can’t even be left alone with my kids. I ruined my perfect child. What have I done? I can’t believe it is practically falling off. BREATH. Hurry up, Brad, and get here. Dammit, Mom answer your phone. Call Brandi. Call Mom. Somebody has to be here with the twins. I can’t leave the babies.BREATH.  I’m so glad the babies are sleeping. Thankfully the dogs are outside. I was so afraid the finger would fall off and the dogs would eat it. This is terrible. This is really bad. BREATH. I need to get someone over here to watch the babies so I can ride with to the ER and make sure that finger doesn’t fall off on the way there. Holy, crap! I can’t believe it is hanging off like that. ANSWER your phone Mom! Call Connie. Get someone over here. I’m going with to the ER. Try to stay calm. Steady the room. BREATH. Don’t keep looking at it. Holy, crap. His finger is barely attached. Holy, shit! I’m a horrible mother. Stay calm. BREATH. Hold your baby close. I can’t believe it is hanging there! BREATH.

And the rest was a blur. A dash out to the car. I rode in the back seat with Collin. Brad told me to stay calm. I tried not to cry even more. “I feel so horrible. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even see his hand,” I said, holding back bawling sobs. I sucked it in and tried to distract Collin with a game on Brad’s phone. He was crying and screaming the whole time. I can’t even imagine the pain my poor baby was in. Ugh!

They got us right in at the hospital. They called it a partial amputation. Holy crap! They gave him a shot…a nerve block…so he wouldn’t feel it. I went outside to get air. I couldn’t see the shot. His dad was there. I needed a breather and to collect myself. I needed to get it together for him.  Which I’m usually pretty calm in situations, but this was just something else. I have never seen anything like it. And I felt so horrible!

They stitched it all the way around. Frankenstein finger. They bandaged it up and gave us prescriptions. You could tell the shot helped. Gotta love pain meds. Phew!

I went home and crashed.

I thought Collin would nap after all that. But he was running around. No bandaged finger was going to slow him down.

And I am so happy that he says the door did it….not Mommy. He points to the door and says, “Broke. Broke. Ow!”  (Even though his finger did not get smashed way at the top.)

Cute video below of Collin comforting Mallie and then he showed her his owie and she kissed it. Awww…they can be so cute.

I know accidents happen….but I still feel horrible.

xxx

The Beginning of Complicated

Exactly one year ago today the complications of my pregnancy with the twins became very complicated. It was a traumatic experience and I am very thankful to be here today with two healthy babies. I have been thinking about it a lot lately, since it was exactly one year ago today.

It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It was the beginning of a very long bed rest and being two hours away from my children and family for the first time ever. The medical issues and the helicopter rides and the doctors and the list goes on…

I didn’t write through this period of time. I wish I had. So the following posts are my memories of that experience. It may not be exact in all the details, but it is the exact way I remember it and how I feel about it.

It will be in several posts. I was on bed rest for 6 long and lonely weeks. It was rough. I can’t go through it all at once again. So you will get the story in “bits & pieces.”

To read about when I first found out I was pregnant with twins you can find that post <here>.

***

Brad was cooking barbecue chicken on the grill. He made a straight path that he followed frequently; flip the chicken, through the back door and straight to the tv to check the football game. He stood with his arms crossed in a defensive stance in the doorway, ready to yell or cheer at the tv.

I tried to keep my eyes open as I sunk further into the recliner. They wouldn’t stay open no matter how hard I tried. I have never felt a tired like this except with my pregnancies. The sheer exhaustion and toll on my body from carrying twins was twice as much.

Collin, who just turned one, was hanging on my knees bawling. I couldn’t pick him up. I was not supposed to pick anything up. I rubbed his back the best I could to try to sooth him, but I think I fell asleep sometime in between there.

I woke up to a quiet house. The kids were napping and it must have been a lull in the game because Brad wasn’t yelling. That was the calm before the storm.

I came down the stairs slowly, waddling, holding the weight of my pregnant belly. “I need to go to the hospital right away,” I said.

“You’re kidding me,” Brad said. “Today is the first day of football. This is the first game.”

“We have to leave now,” I said, even though I couldn’t get any emotion or urgency into my tone. “I’m bleeding.” And from there I was on a mission and that mission was to stay calm and get to the ER.

I have never seen him move so fast except for the other two times when I went into labor. But this was record speed. It was September. I wasn’t due until December.

I clenched the steering wheel and drove as fast as I could. I had cramps, but I didn’t think I was having contractions.

“You need to slow down.”

“I need to get there NOW. I just feel it.”

I pressed down on the accelerator as another small wave of cramps spread across my stomach. “Somethings wrong. I just feel that I need to get there because something big is happening. I just feel it. I’m in trouble. This just isn’t right. It’s not bad now but I’m scared.”

I have to say that the ER was ready and on the ball. As soon as I said I was pregnant with twins and bleeding I was whisked away in a wheelchair and straight to Labor and Delivery. It is a route I know well, having had two other children at the same hospital.

I was moved to a hospital bed, which was also familiar, and IVs, monitors, and nurses surrounded me with a million questions. I tried to get comfortable against the cool white sheets.

The monitor said I was having contractions. Why do I never know this? I never knew it with my other two pregnancies either, not until it was really bad.

I don’t remember much after that. It must have been the drugs, good ol’ Magnesium to try to stop the contractions. I was in and out of sleep with blurry faces coming and going.

I remember a nurse who looked like one of my friends said, “I can only get one baby on the monitor. The other keeps moving,” she said as she moved the paddles around, searching for the other baby, her neck craned to see the screen. I wasn’t too worried. They could never get both on at the same time. I fell back asleep. I couldn’t help it.

I remember hearing the nurses say, “Someone is to be with her at all times.” And they never did leave me alone. Every time I would roll over I would see a nurse or Brad.

I remember Brad pulling out the sofa bed. We were here for the night.

Then it hit. I was fully awake with wicked pain. There was no more sun peeking through the blinds.

“Brad! Wake up!” I yelled.

Panic.

Nurse call button. Where was my nurse? It was the first time I was ever left alone.

***Note – now is the time to stop reading if you are uncomfortable around labor and delivery rooms, have a queasy stomach, if blood bothers you, or anything about things that can happen with a complicated pregnancy might scare you or gross you out too much. It gets scary and gross. You have been warned.***

She came through the door in a second.

“It wont stop gushing,” I screamed. I cried. I squirmed. “Make it stop! What is happening to me.” I could feel it pouring out of me. I could feel the pressure.  I could feel substance to it. I could feel it everywhere, spurting out. I tried to look down at my body. The white sheets were bright red, and not just a small spot. I tried not to look after that.

I felt helpless. I felt reality slipping away. “Help me, please,” I cried. “Just make it stop!” I felt like I was delivering spawn. I felt like the Exorcist girl flopping around in bedand tied up with IV lines and wires for monitors. My head already felt like it was spinning.

And it kept pouring out of me, bright red blood thick between my legs.

Screams.

Panic.

I remember her dark eyes and long dark hair through all of this, it was a new nurse. She looked worried but she worked fast and knew what to do. Some code blurred through the hospital speakers. It was for me. 

“Doctor is coming,”  she said.

But it only got worse.

xxx