If you twist and turn away

See that absolutely adorable, terrifically fantastic and wonderful boy there? That's my beautiful little man, he's almost 11 months old, he's starting to walk and talk and he's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. Today I had the most horrible day in my existence as a mother. Today my little man fractured his tibia. And my heart was subsequently torn from my chest, run over by a Mack truck and a steamroller, fried in three-day-old grease and served up next to a steaming hot pile of poop. Sorry, too graphic? That's the breaks, because that doesn't even adequately describe my emotions today.

He got hurt at daycare, after getting his leg stuck and rapidly thrashing back and forth to get it unstuck. My daycare provider quickly got him unstuck and since there were no bruises or swelling or any other visible signs of trauma, he was ok. She gave him a bottle to calm down and he dozed off and took a nap. When he woke up she gave him lunch just like always and then let him run around just like always. But something was not right (apparently she was channeling Ms. Clavel). When he tried to stand up he just started crying and wailing. Not good, right? That's what she thought and so she called me and told me what was up. I figured, oh, it's probably nothing, but I'll call my doctor's office anyway. They said, oh it's probably nothing, but come on in. Upon examination, my doctor said it doesn't look like anything, but let's do an x-ray. It was immediately obvious that something in fact was not right. A spiral fracture was pretty apparent, even to my lay-person eyes. And... I lost it. Tears just streamed down my face.

My doctor was very concerned that something other than an accident occurred. I freaked out more. My daycare provider has never been anything than wonderful and loving. But of course her concern made me question my gut feelings. My little G was fantastic, he cried when they put the splint on, of course, but luckily it was not displaced, so they didn't have to reduce it (i.e. set it). We then had to go to Children's Mercy to have the orthopedic surgeon review his x-rays and confirm my doctor's diagnosis. Again my doctor expressed her concerns, and said that they would be pretty aggressive with their questions regarding how it happened.

At the hospital, they did ask a few questions, but they didn't see any evidence of abuse. Let's be honest, a children's hospital in an urban location sadly knows abuse when they see it, and this was just an accident. There was no swelling or bruising. My concerns were quelled.

Now we're just relaxing at home. Little G had been crawling all over the place and starting to walk before the accident, and he's just trying to get accustomed to not being able to move on his own. And I'm wishing my doctor would have given me some Xanax, because my wine is really not helping me recover as easily as I'd wished.