I wrote this post a couple of months ago but am finally sharing it here. I think I just needed some time to pass first.
I’ve been a slacker blogger lately. With good intentions of starting 2014 with a bang and write write write. But there’s a story that needs to be told and I’m just now coming off of the feelings I had all around it. And then my url expired and I had some difficulties getting it renewed. #bloggerproblems
About two months ago, I was toiling away at work, writing reports and analyzing budgets, when Marco called. I answered with a light “Hey There,” excited to hear his voice for a few minutes and escape the doldrums of work. My heart stopped when I heard the crying and he said…
“You need to come home. Something is wrong with Ema.”
I quickly hung up and simultaneously messaged my sister and called my parents. My parents answered first and were quickly on their way to pick me up from the office. It’s times like this that being a one-car family is a pain in the ass challenge.
I messaged Marco, “I’m on my way.”
“It’s her arm,” he messaged back.
“She fell on it.”
I felt a little relieved. Her arm. Probably a sprain. A couple of x-rays. An ace bandage. No big deal. Right?
Please let her be ok. I prayed.
We got to the ER. And within an hour of when Marco called me, we were in triage.
Ema whimpered during most of the preliminary exam. While we waited I hugged her and sang to her. I went through my arsenal of songs, trying to calm and distract her.
Of course, she needed x-rays to look for a break. Ema was not happy about that at all. I was able to hold her on the table as the techs worked together to quickly and accurately get the images. She wailed the whole time.
By the time we got back to the exam room, she was inconsolable. I tried to talk to her and rock her. She finally screamed at me, Sing Twinkle, Twinkle!!! My heart melted. Throughout the rest of the ordeal, that’s what I did to help her feel better. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.
The doctor showed me the images and confirmed what we all suspected. That there was a break. She said that the orthopedist would review the images and determine if surgery would be needed.
A nurse came in and put a soft splint on her elbow. She cried the whole time. And I wanted to cry along with her.
I asked my mom to go home and take care of the other girls so that Marco could come and join me. Ema was asking where’s my daddy?
And truthfully, I needed him there too.
When he arrived, I had to break the news to him. She needs surgery. Pins in her elbow.
The orthopedic surgeon (the real kind, not the tv mama kind) returned and he explained again in detail with Marco there. He was very kind and answered all of our questions. He said that he had a 3yo son and if he were in the same situation he would go ahead with the surgery.
Because we wanted to give her the best chance for her arm to be healed, she was scheduled for surgery that very evening. She was admitted to the hospital and we waited with her for the operating room to be free. I sat on her hospital bed and cradled her in my arms as they wheeled us on the gurney from the ER to the OR prep area. I sat holding her and singing to her and held her little hands. I was brave because I needed her to feel brave too.
Marco was so worried. And more than that, he totally blamed himself. She and Sara were climbing on the couches and Ema fell. He was the one home. Of course it was not his fault at all. But to see him feel so horribly guilty just tore me up.
She’s going to be ok.
It’s not your fault.
When it was time, I handed Ema over to a nurse. We walked out to the waiting area hand in hand. Giving each other strength. My sister got there, bringing me some comfortable clothes and shoes. I was still in my work clothes.
The surgery took about 45 minutes. We got a quick bite since I hadn’t eaten anything but a piece of toast early that morning. It wasn’t long before the orthopedic surgeon came out to tell us that the surgery went great. We were so relieved.
We spent that night in the hospital with her. Me in the bed holding her, and Marco on the pullout bed. Just down the hall from the room where we stayed nearly three years ago when they were born.
She wore a soft cast for a week until the swelling went down.
We chose a festive red hard cast the following week in time for Christmas. She couldn’t care less about the color or the stickers she received from the nurse.
She got lots of TLC over the next weeks while she healed.
Each trip to the surgeon’s office brought lots of tears and protest.
“No more pictures of my bones!!”
Seven weeks later, she was declared healed. Perfectly. The bones lined up just as they should.
She’s still a little whiney and got used to being coddled a little more.
But we’re fine with that.
As long as the twins keep themselves healthy and whole from now on.
Who has some bubble wrap?
As time has passed since I wrote this, Ema is no longer a lefty and is pretty much her normal self. But she did become a mama’s girl after that.