I shared a few months ago about one of two scary incidents since being a mother.
The second incident involved my oldest son once again. I was eight months pregnant with our daughter. My husband had left for the grocery store and my son was walking around the home with a cookie rack. He loved going through the cupboards and taking out pots and pans.
We were playing a game and he was walking away from me, still holding onto the cookie rack. He fell just right that the cookie rack cut him on his forehead. He was bleeding a lot. I tried to find a rag to put pressure on his cut. The blood was dripping fast.
I called my husband, but he was still driving to the store and so I had to leave a message. Luckily we were literally right next to the hospital. It was a two-minute walk to the hospital. I quickly grabbed my wallet and ran to the ER.
This was at the beginning of Covid so people were more on edge. I got stopped by one of the hospital employees and was asked a few screening questions. I was annoyed with him as he didn’t seem to be concerned that I was holding a toddler with a bloody towel. We were finally able to go in and were seen pretty quickly. He didn’t need stitches but needed some special glue and they put on a bandaid.
My husband arrived while we were still in the waiting room, but he was not allowed to come in. But it gave me comfort knowing that he was outside waiting for us.
We finally were able to go home. It was close to his bedtime, but we let him stay up a little bit longer as we just cuddled with him on our bed.