Trauma, thy name is fat lip


Making the decision to have a child – it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body.

I have to preface this post by saying that as parents, Chris and I have been incredibly lucky. Up until last Thursday. We’ve managed to go 6+ years with no major traumas to the boys. No broken bones, no stitches, no major maladies—so far only one hospital visit, years ago, which turned out to be an ear infection. So we were very unprepared for our first child trauma. And still we are very lucky. Our first trauma involved a big clay pot, a reckless almost-three-year-old, and an even fatter lip.

The Culprit

The Culprit

This is the culprit. A big clay pot. Innocent enough, until a silly toddler goes running haphazardly through the backyard, trips, and introduces his upper lip to Mr. Clay Pot. Blood, screaming, crying and mayhem ensue. Of course head wounds (and by extension mouth wounds) bleed profusely. So of course there was blood everywhere. Poor Jonah was screaming and crying. Zachary was crying because he was scared. Chris and I were just looking at each other with that WFT look in our eyes. It was not a pretty sight. After about 10 minutes and the promise of popsicles and The Backardigans, we were finally able to calm Jonah down.

Did I mention this was on Thursday? The weekend ((This weekend includes Friday.)) was spent cuddling and coddling the Bear. Giving lots of TLC, popsicles, and Nintendo DS time. On Friday his lip had swollen out past his nose—so swollen that his upper lip skin stretched too much and separated a little bit. Gross, I know.

Friday was mostly spent snuggling and trying to get liquids and nourishment into the Bear. He just couldn’t eat or drink much. It was heartbreaking. As a parent there really is nothing worse than your child in pain. And this was nothing I could “fix”. You can’t put a band-aid inside the mouth. The doctor said there was really nothing to do but let it heal on its own. Which sucks. Because while his mouth is healing on its own, the Bear still can’t eat, can’t drink, can’t have his binky, can’t give me sweet little kisses.

Poor little Bear

Poor little Bear

It was a really crappy, helpless weekend that was spent waiting for Jonah’s lip to get better. Throw in nasty antibiotics that he refuses to take and swabbing his mouth twice a day with yummy hydrogen peroxide, it’s safe to say that a good time was had by all.

It’s now Wednesday morning and the outside of his lip is back to normal. The inside of his lip isn’t as hamburger-like as it was four days ago. He’s drinking juice ((No drinking through a straw yet, however.)) and eating normally, as long as the food is cut up and he doesn’t have to use his front teeth to tear anything. All in all, things are almost back to normal.

So now I can sit back and reflect on our first big trauma. In a word, it sucked. Chris and I spent the weekend looking at each other constantly with that helpless look our eyes. Having your child suffer, even if it is mildly, gives a parent a heavy heart and an upset stomach. I know that I am SO lucky. If this is the worst that ever happens I am the luckiest mother on the planet; however I’m not naive enough to think trouble will never befall my boys again. I will just give thanks that, in hindsight, this trauma was so mild. What do you think? Is this just preparing me for bigger, badder boo-boos in the future?

He still can manage a smile

He still can manage a smile

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