The Award Goes To...

The skies opened up and dumped rain down on the world. One of those quick, summer, onslaughts that leaves puddles in the driveway and a misty sheen the lawns where you can see the humidity rising into the air. The trailer was cramped and leaking from the recent downpour. We decided to go for a walk. I was dancing with Wyatt cradled on my hip. He loves when I dance with him. Yesterday was no different. He was laughing as I waltzed. A split second later I was on the ground. In slow motion, I felt myself falling, my feet slipping out from underneath me. I moved Wyatt to the front so that his head would not hit the ground. I landed on my side, my head bouncing off the ground, with Wyatt in standing position next to me. He started to wail and Rebecca supersonically lifted him from my arms. He was calmed quickly and we went about our day.

I decided to call our pediatrician just in case. He confirmed that unless he was really fussy or uncomfortable he was probably fine. Considering he was soundlessly napping I assumed that he was on the fine half of the argument. Wyatt was laughing and happy for the rest of the day. But something was nagging my conscience. Every time I stood him up he was favoring his left leg. He would bend his leg like a flamingo and when leaning to that side he would rest his weight on my arms instead of his two sturdy legs. I vowed to go to the Dr in the morning if it continued to put my mind at rest. At this point I was envisioning amputations, broken growth plates, small nubby legs, or nerve damage.

So, this morning comes and I try again. He is happy but still favoring his left side. I make an appointment at 9:15 and prepare to head off to work after they tell me everything is fine. What ensued was nothing short of a horror flick. Dr. Greg tells me he thinks it is a hairline fracture and we need to go immediately to the hospital, get x-rays, and see the pediatric orthopedist. My worst fears are confirmed and I am expecting social services to break down my door any moment. Blind terror rotating with uncontrollable panic is putting it mildly. I felt like someone ripped out my heart then fed the bloody mangled mess to a starving tiger. The four hour ordeal at the hospital confirmed the fracture and thankfully there was no cast needed. The bone, between his ankle and knee, will be perfectly healed in two weeks.

Yes, it was an accident but I should have known better. I should have been more responsible and should have understood the dangers of wet grass and flip-flops. I know that I cannot protect him forever. I know he would have gotten hurt eventually but I never in one million years thought it would be me hurting him. I am, almost 30 hours after the original incident, still shaken. Basically, I feel like I won the parental jackpot of neglect. The scarlet letter of stupidity brazen on my chest.

Wyatt, on the other hand, is perfect. He charmed everyone in the hospital and seemed unaffected on all counts. After his x-ray, he was laughing at the technician. He was contented to watch the other children in the waiting room. The pictures were taken after we got home, playing joyfully, happy and content. When the Dr came in with his x-rays, Wy decided that it was the perfect time to upchuck his entire stomach contents onto my shirt. The Dr was laughing so hard and was trying to hide it behind his hands. Finally, he looked up and said "that was something you see on YouTube."