Last Monday night, after a special treat, eating Chick fil a for dinner, I took the kids up to bed. I brushed those pretty pearly teeth and got them all snuggly in jammies. I read to them on Greta's shaggy rug. Kissed her goodnight and told her Daddy would come in and kiss her when he got home.
Jack and I went to his room to rock in his chair a bit. And then I heard the loud, loud thud. Silence. And then I heard Greta cry like I have never heard in my life. I laid Jack down in the chair and ran to her. Upon opening her door, I saw her laying on the floor, half on the shaggy rug, half off and her arm was obviously broken. Very broken. Oh dear God, I can not even tell you how it feels to see your baby in such pain and there isn't a damn thing you can do to help..but call for help. I ran for a phone. I ran outside to get a neighbor to watch Jack while I got Greta to the ER. It was so dark and quiet outside. I ran back in to her and dialed 911....And then my own mom. Moms unite in time of crisis.
By Greta's side I tried to calm her and keep her safe. She told me that she tried to fly like her fairy. I think she dropped it and went over the side of the bed to catch her. She said she was sorry. Sweetbaby. I was sorry. Greta asked for Jack who, unbelievably, was still in his room on his chair in silence. Greta called out to him and he came running, "Gigi, you hurt, oh gigi!" He sat by her side and didn't leave or make a peep until we went to the ER .
The medics came and were like angels. They were so good with Greta and made her comfortable. They gave her 2 doses of a sedative before they put her arm in the splint. They calmed me and got me to a place where I knew everything was going to be alright. When Greta was ready, they brought her down and put her in the ambulance. I followed behind with Jack who would still spout out tearful utterances of her name every so often. He was sick with worry, that little guy. I could see Greta's little face in the ambulance. Their lights and sirens weren't on, but mine were!
At the hospital, they did x-rays and made a temporary cast to get through the night and into our appointment in the morning with a specialist. We were ready to be at home in bed now. It was past midnight. Derek landed about this time and sped home to meet us. Greta was finally comfortable and sleeping in our bed with pillows all around her. Jack was a little shaken and had nightmares all night.
The specialist, in the morning, confirmed that Greta would actually need to have surgery to ensure the breaks would heal right. Surgery was scheduled for Thursday morning. A pin would be placed in her arm from her elbow to her wrist to make the bones heal straight and fit in the elbow correctly. While all of this was going on, I was working a food styling job. I took the job a month ago and had hired a nanny to watch the kids when I work so I can take more gigs. It was the most terrible day of my life knowing that my baby was hurt and I was not with her. I could have bailed on the job, but Greta was actually doing well and was not even complaining of pain. Derek was with her and Elif, my helper, was with Jack during the appointment and with Derek and Greta the rest of the day. She made it a special day for Greta and Jack. I made pork ribs and chops and roasts beautiful and replayed the night before over and over in my head.
I got through the job and surgery was the next day. We got up at 5 and went in. The surgery lasted 45 minutes and we were paged to be by Greta's side as she woke. We got off the elevator and met the surgeon and I heard Greta crying. Poor, poor baby. I sang to her and Derek held her and we got her home where Gee was with Jack. Gee had made food for dinner that night...pork roast. Derek went out and bought Greta Strawberry Shortcake, which combined with codeine makes a very happy 4 year old. The cast is hot pink and is not slowing her down. She hurts every once in a while, but is mostly concerned with her ability to dance and hold a crayon. She told the medics the night of the break that she was an artist and needed to hold a crayon...Could she still hold a crayon? They laughed and said yes. She also told them that she was afraid to fly in an airplane and that Jack was afraid to poop in the potty. She won their hearts. She has all of us by ours. Knowing what this feels like...This pain and worry and fear made me realize how strong I can be...or have to be. My mom said I have to show her how. But, she was worried about me crying. My little brave girl saw me grow up a little. I just hope that the next time it won't have to hurt so much.
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