Broken

I'm aware it is quite the cliche thing to say, but I feel like the worst mom in the world. Even though I know I'm not. Even though when a friend is in this same situation, I do all I can to reassure them that they are not. Even though we all know kids are kids and things like this are going to happen. There are always certain thoughts you can't help having in certain situations, no matter who you are. And this is one.

Calli broke her arm on Tuesday. It marks the first time one of my children have been seriously hurt. And because of that, the experience was very terrifying. I know we'll have more accidents in the future, but I would like to think it may get a bit easier, that I'll be able to think a bit more clearly and know what to do quicker.

The morning was off. Something about that morning was just...off. Nothing was off. Everything was the same. Except I forgot my cell phone when I left the house and fretted about it on the drive a bit more than usual. I packed two bottles for Serena instead of the customary one when we are just going to be out for no more than two-three hours. I even had second thoughts about going, thinking maybe I should just go to Pump It Up, the place we normally go on Tuesday mornings. But I decided to take the kids to the mall; to a playplace they have there to meet another mom friend for the first time.

We have been here before. Calli loves running around and I love that she can get her energy out in a way that doesn't include taking every single toy out of her toy box. We were there no more than fifteen minutes when it happened. She decided to try and climb over this two foot wall. She does things like this all the time. My daughter is afraid of nothing. But this time, instead of climbing down the other side, she fell on her right arm. I saw it happen and heard that awful snapping sound. I ran to her and gathered her in my arms and I could tell something was just not right. She would not move her arm; it just hung limp at her side. She would not calm down either. Calli gets hurt often, she has even hit her mouth on the cement of the driveway. But still, she always pops back up after a bit of crying and is fine. This time was different. I could just tell it was different. So I loaded Serena up in the stroller and carried Calli in my arms to the car, having been told the nearest hospital was Wilford Hall, the one on Lackland AFB. I start to drive there as fast as I can and still feel safe. Calli meanwhile, is in the back crying the whole time. She is telling me she has a boo boo, a really bad boo boo. She is sucking on the fingers of her healthy arm, something she has never done before, something she is doing to soothe herself. She is hysterical. I am hysterical inside. She vacillates between crying in pain and sitting there lethargically. I don't know which I hate more.

When we finally reach the hospital, I hand the civilian gaurd my driver's license, telling him I think my daughter broke her arm and I need to get her to the ER. I am told very rudely that I cannot get on base without a pass from the Visitor's Center. I lose it and just start to cry and ask if there is any way I can just get my daughter to the hospital, that I thought this was a public hospital. He tells me there is nothing he can do. He doesn't know where the closest hospital is. He is not sorry for my situation. He is just rude. His partner has the audacity to point out that my registration stickers are expired, like I didn't know it. It is appalling to me that two people can a treat a mother, who is in obvious remorse and distress, so inhumanely. I just don't get it.

So I head back on the freeway and decide to go to Methodist Hospital, where Serena was born. I remembered that they have a Children's Hospital and think maybe this will be better anyway. It turned out that it was better. We park and Calli still does not want to walk, so I have to manuever the stroller and carry her through the hospital to the ER, asking for directions. The ER is a special one for children and because of that, I do not have to wait hours to be seen. There are not thirty other adults waiting as well. Just one other family.

I check Calli in and am finally able to call Richard. Of course he doesn't answer, so I leave him a message telling him we're at the hospital and I don't have my phone. As soon as I hang up the phone, they are ready to take Calli back. They order some wrist x-rays, which I know will be a chore to complete. Luckily they let me hold her on my lap, but she cries most of the way through them. When those come back negative, the doctor orders some more of her arm, which I wonder why they didn't just x-ray the whole arm in the first place. By this point though, Calli's spirits are lifting. I have reassured her over and over that the doctor will make her better, that she is being such a brave girl, that I love her so much. It is all I can do not to break down and cry, but I know I have to be strong. If Calli were to see me cry she would surely lose it herself. So I hold myself together. For her.

Slowly, she turns back into herself. Her sweet, funny, adorable self. I tell her they spelt her name wrong on her bracelet, a name she doesn't even go by: Callisa. They have left out an L. It is all she can think about from that point on, telling the doctor, much to her amusement, that they spelled her name wrong. The doctor is impressed that she can spell her name, impressed with how smart she is, telling us she has a three year old at home herself.

Just as we suspected, the arm x-ray comes back and there is a break. She broke it pretty good too. She got a splint put on with a sling until we could get in to see the orthopedic doctor for a cast. Luckily we were able to make that appointment for yesterday. So today Calli sports a bright pink cast and is back to her old self; she laughs, she kisses her sister, she plays with her toys, she whines. I never thought I would be happy to hear her whining, but somehow yesterday I had infinite patience.

I am so thankful that she is going to be okay. So thankful that something worse didn't happen to her. And yet, I can't stop with the "of courses". Of course she broke her right arm, which she uses for everything. Of course she broke it now, when soccer season is just around the corner and she was looking so forward to it. Of course she broke it when she has her beloved dance class going on. Of course she broke it at the end of summer, when we were finally enjoying our trips to Sea World on our season pass.

She has to have this cast on for four weeks. On October 1st we will get it changed to a shorter cast, which she'll wear for two weeks. And after that, she will healed. Bath times will be a challenge since she can't get the cast wet. And anyone who knows Calli knows how hard it will be to contain her inside all day, every day. If she gets sweaty she'll start to itch under her cast. So that means in this Texas humidity that we pretty much can't step out the door. No trips to the park, the bounce house, Chuck E Cheese, the pool.

Seeing your child in pain is one of the worst things to go through in the world. You are so helpless to do much, if anything. You just pray that maybe God will transfer her pain onto you, that she won't have to feel any of it. And since that won't happen, you just hope her pain will be short.
Here are some pictures of Calli in her sling from Tuesday and Wednesday and then in her cast last night:

Calli in her sling after getting home from the hospital

In her splint and sling the next morning before getting her cast
Calli in her new pink cast!