After 10+ years of being a parent...it finally happened.
Our first broken bone.
When I tell you this was the most traumatic event for me as a parent. I couldn't even have a glass of wine when it was all said and done that's how stressed I was! (I can hear the collective gasp from here- I know- no wine?!)
So it was already a pretty crappy (pun alert!) day in the Giraldo household. My youngest (6 years old) stayed home sick from school with some "tummy issues" (I know you all don't care to hear all the lovely details on that one....). So we were slumming in PJ's, just generally being couch potatoes when one fuzzy blanket + hardwood floors + clumsy child = fall to the ground with arms outstretched.
Now anyone who has kids know they are always falling, slipping, stumbling, banging into, falling off of, really just generally accident prone little humans. As a parent, I typically kiss the boo boo, give a cuddle and keep it moving. In fact, I have often times prided myself on not being that over reactive parent who turns mountains into molehills. "Meh, you're fine, go play." But y'all.....those prehistoric, neanderthal, stomach churning mom chromosomes kicked in and I KNEW this was bad.
*Insert panicked/frantic call to husband desperately searching for an adult to fix the situation when I was a puddle of nerves and anxiety*
**Insert double panic to realize that I, was in fact, the adult responsible for handling this situation**
So I pulled myself together, threw on some clothes, and drove us to the ER.
*Insert Mama Bear-protect-my-baby-cub mode*
The day was a whirlwind of x-rays, nurses, doctors, ambulance rides (yes we had to be transported to a larger hospital that could perform sedation to set her arm). When we finally arrived home, exhausted/hungry/drained, the kid was out like a light. Me you ask? Oh I just stayed awake half the night sleeping with her on the couch, reading online about possible side effects of sedation on children and checking her breathing by placing my finger under her nose ever few minutes. Fun times!
The days and weeks following "the incident" I have been suspicious and overly fearful of every mundane thing in the house. Mia has officially dubbed it "Parental PTSD".
"Don't run with socks on!"
"Dear God don't walk around the house holding that blanket!"
"Please don't fidget in the barstool, you'll fall!"
The list goes on and on but I'm sure my family is pretty annoyed with my newly developed neurosis. (I even caught myself yelling at the dog to not run down the stairs...THE DOG...) But can you blame me?! Everything looks dangerous!
You will never feel more helpless than as a parent who can do absolutely nothing to ease your child's pain. It is the most gut wrenching/terrifying experience that I seriously wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. I know this most likely won't be our last brush with a ER (God I can hope though) and I'm sure with time my fear of all things innocuous will wane and I will resume some semblance of normalcy (well, normal for me anyways) but for now, Mama Bear is on high alert!
Have you suffered from a Parental PTSD episode? Tell me I'm not alone here people!