This Little Pinky went to the ER

What a roller coster of emotions this weekend! Saturday night started off with a superb party for a friend who is getting married in a few weeks. It was a great stagette with a lot of memories, tears and laughter. Sunday morning I was off to another bridal shower for probably my oldest friend and again much laughter, some emotional tears and good memories.

Joseph and I then spent this afternoon coffee'ing with Gramma and Papa since all of our BBQs were cancelled due to rain. After our chit chat and coffee we headed home. Joseph hops out of the van and I go to shut the door and what do I see but Joseph's hand yet but headed back into the line of fire. I have now slammed his fingers in the van door. YEOWCH. Well after a late afternoon visit to the ER (we thought we might have had some broken fingers) and a lot of tears, a good amount of codiene, a fuzzy new teddy bear from a pretty nurse and 3 stitches later we headed for McDonalds to soothe the soul.

I know that in a week to 10 days the stitches will be out and the gaping wound will be healing and with some TLC and scarzone cream the scar on "pinky" will fade into a memory. But, why is it that the emotional scar of the simple fact that I was the one who slammed his tender little finger in the door and caused him so much pain be raw in my mind and haunt me forever.

When you become a mother I think your mind is so obsessed with pregnancy hormones, thoughts of labour, getting the nursery ready, educating yourself on epidurals and circumcisions that no one tells you that the day you give birth your raw animal instincts seep right out and spew all over your life. No one tells you that you are completely exposed to every element and your childs tear can sear a burn in your heart forever. I guess the preganancy & child rearing books all had limited space and figured that it was more important to have information on layettes, braxton hicks, basics of breastfeeding and when the babies first anything and everything should be that the section on "You will take it all personally" and "It is all your fault" always seemed to hit the cutting room floor. I wonder if a book of all the truths would be a best seller?

Ce la vie. Life goes on... at least we still have pinky in our family. Things could be so much worse. But when it comes to your child the smallest of things all of a sudden seem like the hugest of things. Three little stitches dosen't sound that bad, but as any mother will attest at the moment it is a horrible, life threatening trauma.

I guess today I should simply be thankful that our ER was well stocked with qualified nurses & doctors who had few patients on their load today. I feel for all of those Mothers who have their hearts exposed and are missing their children in New Orleans or lost or have injured children from 9/11 or the Tsunami.

Life today in the grand scheme was simple. But in the regular scheme it was hard. The biggest irony of the day was that this morning Joseph inquired what "feeling guilty" meant.

But through all the haze we had a few laughs about some things. Joseph was pretty buzzed up (to say the least) on the codiene and had some pretty funny comments that I must share. The Doctor finished stitching his finger and said "Ok, Joseph have a look and tell me what you think" Joseph droopily holds up his hand and I think he was more shocked at the blood and swelling and looks up at the Doctor horrified and says loudly "IT'S TERRIBLE!!!" Good thing the Doctor had a sense of humour. We then pack up and are on the way home Joseph says drunkinly to me "Mommy, you know Uncle Paul... he has a big green truck and it has flames painted all over it." I just agreed, I wasn't about to tell him that Uncle Paul drives a mini-van...and it has no flames.