Who knew working in the ER would prepare me for motherhood?

When John and I first got married and moved to far away Athens, GA, I got a job working as a registrar at a local ER, meaning I did the necessary computer and paperwork to check people into the ER. I spent quite a bit of time hanging out in the ER, talking to the nurses and lending a hand when needed, whether fetching warm blankets, calling John to translate from Spanish, or helping calm screaming kids. If someone came by ambulance or walked in with a serious injury, I had to go back into their room and get the necessary information while dodging doctors, nurses, and EMT's. We had to get the patients in the system as quickly as possible, because no medication could be given or tests run until the paperwork was done.

Anyway, I was thrown up on, bled on, handed severed finger packed in ice (and one floating in a cup of milk - dude was drunk, couldn't remember if it was ice or milk for severed fingers), and even got to watch a doctor re-locate someone's shoulder, which was actually the only time I wanted to throw up in the ER. I saw sick babies and kids needing stitches and teens with broken bones and adults with migraines and seniors who almost froze to death because they didn't have enough money to heat their houses in the winter. We served the rich and homeless (who always got a meal before leaving) and everyone in between. I saw birth as ambulances rushed in laboring women and death as they slowly delivered those who had lost the will to live. And in all the excitement, it never once occured to me that these experiences would help me when I became a mother. Friday I realized they had.

Friday morning Jaina had climbed up onto our brick fireplace hearth and was hanging out in the basket we keep diapers and wipes in. Libby walked up to her and grabbed the edge of the basket and started to pull it off the fireplace. I said "Libby, don't pull the basket off, Jaina could fall out and hit her head and get hurt". Libby let go and walked away. A few minutes later she was back, and this time I wasn't fast enough. She pulled the basket off the fireplace, Jaina flipped out backwards, and hit her head on the edge of the bricks. Much screaming followed, I sent Libby to her room and scooped up Jaina, trying to comfort her. It was a few minutes before I noticed the blood smeared on my arm. I parted the hair at the base of her skull and saw that she was bleeding from two places. I grabbed the phone and called her pediatrician and asked "how do I know if she needs stitches? She's not gushing blood, but I can't see the wounds very well". The nurse told me to go ahead and take Jaina to the nearest ER. Knowing that ERs are usually packed and that stitched in the head aren't really an emergency, we went to the urgent care instead. I threw some shorts on Libby, added a key item to my wardrobe, grabbed my bag, and we took off.

I went first to the kid's urgent care, but they didn't open until 4:30, so I drove down the street to CareNow (I've written before about how cool this place is). Thankfully, bleeding babies get priority, and we were taken straight back to triage. The nurse even went out to the waiting room and brought books and toys back for the girls. We ended up in a curtained-off portion of a large room instead of a regular room. I was worried Libby would take off, but she sat in the chair or on the cot th whole time and never tried to wander off. She played with Jaina and kept her entertained while we waited. The nurse first took Jaina's vitals, which Jaina HATED, and then she examined Jaina's head, which made her scream. Jaina hates having anyone, even me, touch her head or her hair, even on a good day. If I stroke her hair she reaches up and flings my hand away. So I was prepared for the mad screaming. Then I had to help hold her still so the nurse could scrub away the congealed blood.

The Nurse Practitioner then came by, took a look at her head, scrubbed some more (more mad screaming), then told me that yes, she needed stitches or staples, and explained that staples are faster and easier, and since scarring isn't an issue where her hair is, that he would recommend those as opposed to stitches. I said "whatever is fastest, because she's going to hate it either way". So he called the nurse back and they swaddled Jaina nice and tight (another thing she has always hated, poor girl was hollering before they even got the staple gun out). I sat on the bed and held Jaina face-down across my lap, trying my best to keep her still. The nurse held Jaina's head, and, with Libby right up in the action watching every move, the NP used a little staple gun to put one staple in the smaller, deeper wound, and two staples in the shallower, wider wound. Jaina had been screaming already, and it didn't intensify much with the staples, even though they had to hurt.

After she calmed down, the NP told me what to watch out for in case of cuncussion and told me we needed to be back on Sunday so they could check the staples and the healing, then back again the next Friday to have the staples taken out. Libby came away with a tiny bear and some latex gloves and some stickers. She kept telling me about how the bear hurt his head and he was sad and she was the doctor and was going to make him better. It was pretty cute.

Jaina did fine the rest of that day, took a normal nap, and was happy and active when she woke up. I checked on her once during the night and so did John, and by the next morning didn't have to worry about cuncussion anymore. Sunday morning I took her back and after her yelling through yet another vitals check, the NP said the staples looked great and the wounds were healing and "see you Friday".

So now we have a thick quilt folded up on our hearth and no baskets sitting there for climbing in. Jaina hasn't had any sensitivity where her staples are, although if you try to lift her hair to look at them she smacks your hand. I gave her a bath yesterday and scrubbed her head good and she didn't complain any more than usual. She's a fast healer :)

So after everything calmed down, I called my mom to tell her what happened and she asked me "were you scared?" I thought a moment and said "no, I just thought about what needed to be done and did it. I knew she was OK, but that she'd probably need stitches, which isn't really a big deal". If I hadn't had those years at the ER, I think there would have been at least a little freaking out going on. Instead I was calm and collected and able to give her the attention and comfort she needed without adding to her anxiety. And suddenly I was very, very grateful for my time as an ER paper-pusher. Didn't think that would ever happen :)