In an Instant

A day that has a nice, long nap like this:

Shouldn't end with an arm like this:

Today started off so well.  We made bread.  We went to the library, where we checked out some Angelina Ballerina books and ran into some new friends from our MOMS Club.  The kids took long, lazy afternoon naps.  Dylan ate bananas (an early favorite), and Abbey ate mac & cheese (a steady favorite).  Grandma Sharon came over early; I had dinner plans with Colleen and Kathie for Kathie's birthday.  Today had the makings of a great fresh start to a rough weekend.

Yet, in an instant things changed.  Practically flanked by Mommy and Grandma, Abbey tripped off the brick border around our porch (maybe six? inches off the ground) and started crying.  Normally, she only cries like that when exhausted, and the tears can be easily evaporated with a snuggle and a kiss. 

But today the tears kept coming, and she kept saying, "it hurts," which are words that don't cross her lips very often.  Honestly, she is one tough girl. 

But today she was gingerly holding her hand in an awkward position, and even a cup of water with ice cubes didn't stop the tears. 

So, with Grandma's agreement that something was wrong, we trekked to the ER.  Grandma has an eye for these things; she x-rays hurts for a living.  Thankfully, there is a little ER a few miles from our house, so we were the only people in the waiting room, and we were quickly ushered into a room covered with Nemo stickers.

In 32 years, I have never broken a bone, and now my two-year old can't say the same thing, and my heart is heavy tonight.  It's a buckle fracture, which looks like a bent bone, like it's made of something flexible.  But bone isn't flexible, and now Abbey is in a little cast, with instructions to follow up with a specialist.

Big picture? She was playing in her kitchen, wearing her apron and hat, when we got home.  Motrin went down a little sweeter when followed by a teeny bowl of frozen yogurt.  The doctor said it should heal within a couple of weeks.  But my baby girl is broken, and I can't fix it with all of the smooches and snuggles in all of the world. 

My heart is heavy, and some of that heaviness isn't for us.  Tonight, acutely, I feel for all of the families who deal with much worse than this every day.  Whose bad news won't heal within a couple of weeks.  In an instant, a door was flung open to expose the fragility of life, of health, of safety, and my heart hurts a little tonight.