Pinched.

We went to Immediate Care last week. (As an update, this is an old post. A saved in drafts. But, it’s still relevant and I’m working on being a better blogger, so it’s worth the post. 😉 )

Nora Noodle was chasing Harper, as per usual, and Harper closed the door behind her when rushing into the bathroom. I can feel the Mom Crowd cringing. Harper accidentally slammed Nora’s whole hand in the hinge side of the door, and the door closed.

Cue crying, and screaming, and writhing. And that was Harper inside the bathroom, overwhelmed with guilt. On the opposite side of the door, there was bleeding, already peeling skin, and a sobbing Nora. Now, we are new here. I wasn’t even sure where our nearest IC was – so I called the neighbor (who is a literal saint), and she said, “It’s near the Walgreens. Drop off whatever kid you’re not taking there.” She hugged Harper as soon as I dropped her off, and reminded me that all would be okay. Like I said, LITERAL SAINT.

After checking out her hand, with a screaming-in-agony Nora, they decide x-rays are necessary. Actually, it went something like this:

Doctor: “Can you bend your fingers, honey?”

Nora: “NO. They’re going to CRACK IN HALF.”

Doctor: “Can you straighten them, like this?”

Nora: “NO. They’re going to BREAK OFF.”

So, the natural next step is to just make sure nothing major is going on. Nora is still crying intermittently, and I am desperately trying to distract/comfort her. (See also: doing the mom hustle of working to satisfy your child while basically singing every kid song you’ve ever heard and sweating under their anxious sweaty body, trying to ignore the fact that you’re on hour twopointfive of mom aerobics). The spider has been itsy bitsied, the star has twinkled, the baby shark has been doo doo doo’d, I have begged for my only sunshine not to be taken away and the boat has been rowed. Bless.

We finally get into the x-ray room. I am rocking a chic, black, weighted, x-ray vest over my lap while Nora is sporting a matching x-ray ensemble. We are stunning. Can you see us now? We are red faced, sweaty, covered in the latest medical fashion, exhausted and anxious. It’s a sight.

The wonderful x-ray technician asks Nora to lay her hand thumb up, pinkie down, “like a karate chop”. And what does my angelic little ninja do? She demonstrates a karate chop, for real. WHY.

X-Ray Man: “I mean, I don’t think they’re broken. But, I’ll check.”

Yes, thank you, kind Sir. Survey says? Not broken. Shocking.

Nora is offered a sticker. Nora says, “I need five, I think. One for my mom, my dad, my Sister, my dog Sadie, and me. That should be fine.” And x-ray man, likely thinking we have lost our ever loving minds, slaps us five stickers and tells us to follow up with our primary if we see signs of infection in the open wounds. Peace. Out.

Mamas – I am in the trenches, with the small children, and the unforeseen kid chaos medical visits, and the face palm inducing kid moments. I see you sweating, and red faced, and anxious about broken fingers, singing all of the happy kid songs to distract and comfort your scared Little.

We are their touchstones, their safety, their barometer on what to be afraid of, and the voice they long to hear tell them it’s going to be okay.

And sometimes, when we are nervous and trying to be calm, we need to hear it’s okay. Mama – it’s okay.