I’ve been waiting on that “profoundness” that usually comes in the form of words when big things happen in my life. I just knew that at some point I’d have some deep, spiritual reality hit me in the midst of this week; but there hasn’t been that smack of “profoundness” yet. When Carter fell Monday, I was at fault. I stepped backwards and in that instant, that’s when he slipped and fell. I thought about beating myself up, but realized that there was no point in it. As I held him in the backseat of the truck on the way to the ER, I made sure to support his little arm and hold pressure on it so it didn’t hurt as bad. I didn’t know if it was broken or dislocated, but I knew it was way bigger than the other one and that wasn’t good. Once they got us in the back, I sat on a hospital bed that seemed like it was made out of wood and held my little man, crying every time he cried, holding him and wishing it was me instead of him. He was so brave and tough.  We were all running on adrenaline. When they told us it was broken, they couldn’t decide if they would do surgery that night or the next morning; we kept getting different reports until finally we were given a room (well after midnight) and told that the doctor would do surgery sometime the next morning. Every hour the nurses came in and checked Carter’s temperature and blood pressure. They made sure his fingers were getting blood flow and that his arm was okay. He cried every time-and so did I. He just doesn’t like people messing with him. I don’t blame him.

That night was extremely long. David got more sleep than me. I laid on a small edge of the bed by Carter because he wouldn’t have it any other way and every time he shifted, so did I. By the time morning came we were so anxious, knowing that the surgery would be soon. We had heard everything from pins to plates in his arm, so when the doctor finally made it in and told us it was pins then we at least had a direction to focus on. He told us it was what he called a monkey bar break because he usually saw it in kids that fell off of playground equipment and were trying to catch themselves. Said it wouldn’t be hard to fix and that we would go home that day after the surgery. It was a couple more hours before surgery ever happened and Carter was so miserable as we had to wait. When the nurses finally wheeled him away, he kept reaching out for me, big ole elephant tears in his eyes, and was crying, “Mamamama…” That ripped out this mama’s heart. I lost it. It was that helpless feeling of knowing that this was the best thing but wishing there was another way; knowing that anything could go wrong but desperately hoping and praying that it wouldn’t. Family and friends were waiting for us as we came out into the lobby where the tears continued to erupt onto the closest person to me. David did a lot better than I did. Having to trust my little boy in the hands of someone else was so hard but absolutely essential.

And he made it through. My heart smiled when we saw him in his bed and heard him joyfully say, “Mama!” My little man, propped up in that hospital bed with a big ole cast on his left arm, tubes hooked to him, and hugging his stuffed monkey; this was the best sight ever!

I’d like to say that he has bounced right back and is full of life and ready to climb some more, but it’s been a long week. He is weak and tired. The heavy medicines that he had to take messed up his little system and he doesn’t want to eat. Today was the first day he hasn’t thrown up. Right now he is in the recliner, sleeping peacefully. It’s the most comfortable he’s looked in days. Mama and daddy are tired, too. It’s amazing how much a mama and daddy can do on limited sleep. When it comes to your kids, there are no limits to what you are able to push through.

So, there’s our week in a nutshell. No real “profoundness” but definitely a week for the memory book. Please keep little Carter in your prayers. And please pray for all of those other little ones that are sick this week. When the babies are sick, the world just isn’t right.


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