Smashed

We've made it over two and a half years without a finger smash - impressive, I know.

Yesterday, Nolan accompanied Cory out to the car in search of his favorite toy (his fire truck).

As Cory searched in the back seat, Nolan had gone to try and open the front door on his own. His hand was resting on the door frame, his fingers curled around the edge - something daddy didn't notice before shutting the back door :(

I was out on the patio, carving pumpkins, when I heard Nolan's scream. I had no idea what had happened, but I could tell from my son's cry that it was bad.

The first three fingers on his left hand between the first and second knuckles were indented and swollen with some scrapped skin. Could've been much worse, considering.

We washed them, then immediately got an ice pack on them. The ice pack must've really helped, because he never lets me use it when he's injured, but he kept his little fingers in there for this.

I was worried about the amount of swelling that was immediately present. But, upon consultation from the internet we decided he didn't need medical care (not immediately, anyway).

We gave him some ibuprofen, and I got a bowl of cool water and added 3 drops of lavender and 2 drops of frankincense to it and had him stick his hand in there. He didn't like that very much. I'm not sure if the scrapes were deep enough to result in some stinging or what. So I got some lavender on a cotton ball and rubbed his fingers with that instead (lavender is great for blood flow and reducing inflammation).

You know how bad fingers throb when getting smashed, ugh! It was pitiful for my baby.

It was almost nap time, and he hadn't (and wouldn't) eat any lunch. So I carried him to his room, got his blankies and rocked him.

He was so exhausted from being upset, that he was barely keeping his eyes opened. But every time I tried to lay him down he'd cry. We sleep trained Nolan starting at 7 weeks, and by 12 weeks he was fine being laid down and putting himself to sleep. So, I haven't rocked my baby to sleep since he was a tiny, tiny infant. This had me not minding that he needed it now. He was hurt, he wanted his mama. So, I sat and rocked him until he was in a deep sleep.

I watched his little face and kissed his little nose and stroked his little cheeks. And it was a brutal realization of how quickly he's growing. There's a pretty popular poem I hear parents reference, about having last moments with your child and not realizing they're the lasts.

Someday, you'll rock your child to sleep for the last time. You'll pick them up for the last time. You'll give them a bath for the last time. They'll hold your hand when crossing the street for the last time.

And you won't even know it's the last time you're doing that thing.

The thought nearly brought me to tears as I wondered if this was the last time I'd ever rock my baby to sleep - something I already haven't done in years.

Whether or not it is, I soaked it in pretty thoroughly, and left his room a little bitter about how few more moments I get like that.