Glass won.
The door broke, raining glass down on him and slicing his arms resulting in fifty one agonizing stitches and a vision I can't seem to UNsee. Luckily, the glass falling didn't cut any muscle tissue, nerves or anything else important but instead skinned him...making me see the fat and muscle below. According to the ER nurse, it looked far worse than it really was because of how the glass fell.
It looked like something worse than my worst nightmare.The amazing thing was his level of trust. I guess I never realized how very much my children trust me to make bad things better. Once he saw me, once he heard my voice, he didn't cry. (This was partially due to shock since it didn't hurt until they began numbing him up but it was still horrific.) He calmly talked to me and the doctors, assuming that because I was there, I'd fix it.
I did. I doubted my ability to fix this one but I did fix it.
Now he's wandering the house like a restless ghost, unable to play because of the bandages but back to his normal cheerful self. And I keep staring at him, amazed that he knew I'd be able to fix this one.
He's okay. I keep hugging him as if to reassure myself of this.
During the chaos, my children both acted much like me, which was amusing. My son, with huge gashes in his arm, was very concerned with the towel he ruined with his blood. My daughter, although she handled the whole thing well, at one point yelled at my son and didn't let him sit on a couch because he'd get blood on it. Both of them inherited my ability to appologize for things they had no control over...
All in all, the whole experience taught me my kids have a bit more of me than I realized and both of them trust me, even when I'm not sure I deserve that awe-inspiring level of trust.
But zombie boy is doing well. And I'm a very happy mommy to have everyone home and though stitched up, in one piece.
He likes this song...and it seemed apt. Some nights are fun and some nights...yeah.
