Let's reserve the parking spot now...

Well, it happened. I knew it was coming, but had no idea of when, or how, or with what intensity.

Dawson's first trip to the E.R.

See that? That mussed up, broken, crushed looking thing? Yep, that's my soul. Please don't step on it. I'm not sure how much more it can take right now.

On Friday evening Dawson was being the spirited rapscallion (ahem) he always is, and was climbing on the dining room chairs. Just as I was crossing the room to get him down, it fell over backwards while he held on to the top rung. In the longest 3 seconds of my life I watched as all the weight of the chair, plus baby, came down onto the wood floor, crushing his little fingers and smashing his face into the floor. Blood spurted EVERYWHERE. The scream is permanently seared into my brain.

I'd like to say I was able to keep a level head and attend to the situation like the Klassymomma I am, but that's a lie. I absolutely broke down into hysterics as I scooped up my broken baby and barged in on Jamie in the shower. Huge amounts of blood followed us wherever we went. I didn't even know if all of his fingers were still attached. I couldn't look.

In a testament to why it take 2 people to make a baby, Jamie was completely cool and rational as he inspected the injuries, but the bleeding was too severe to really tell. I could see, though, that his fingertips were already turning black.

"What do we do?? Do we go to the hospital?? Can they even do anything for baby fingers?" I cried, wishing to God that I'd never bought such top-heavy and angular chairs and cursing the wrought iron accents. From now on, it will be folding chairs and patio furniture until my youngest is 40.

"Don't you have a mommy friend who was an X-ray tech?" asked my oh-so-calm husband.

Duh. So I called said x-ray tech friend, who was in Oklahoma. Bless her heart, she was able to calm me down and assure me I hadn't mangled his little hands for life. Evidently, kids don't really have joints as this point. Who knew? What they DO have is itty bitty little fingers that bleed like the dickens, so she suggested I go to the ER incase stitches were needed.

I went back in to the bedroom where Jamie had managed to calm Dawson a little, but the scene was still gutting. My beautiful son, covered head to toe in streaks of blood; my husband, looking more worried than I'd ever seen. We tried to inspect the wound again but every time it was uncovered the blood would just overwhelm the tip and we couldn't accurately assess the damage. We decided the ER was definitely in order, but Jamie couldn't come with us. It was his first shift in a new department and only his own loss of limb would have been an acceptable absense. We Cornelii really have a fantastic flair for timing. In the end, my wonderful grandma drove us to the hospital so I could sit in the back with my unbelievable trooper of a son. He'd calmed down completely by the time we got to the ER. We can't say the same about the mama.

In the end, it took 3 stitches to reaffix his semi-detached fingertip. 3 fingers are severely bruised and it looks like the nails might fall off.  X rays were taken, but nothing appeared to be broken. The stitches should dissolve in about a week, and then all that will be left is his very first scar.

As long as you don't count the one on my heart.

Anyone want to buy some chairs?