ER

today we got to experience our first - and hopefully last - trip to the emergency room with bridget. after witnessing a very uncomfortable scene with michael's sister and brother-in-law, we had agreed that when this day came we wouldn't bother being annoyed at the accompanying parent's potential temporary incompetence since they would feel bad enough. anyway, i mention it because i was really happy about our deal since she suffered the stich-worthy injury at my hands.

so here's the scoop, saturday was going to be an all-business errand day. we were actually ahead of schedule to get to costco at 9:30 and therefore out of the evil plaza by 11 or 11:30 at the latest. so as part of the plan, bridget was going to shower with me. this has been the mode of washing her these days since i can no longer bend and give her an actual bath with the basketball baby in utero. the crazy thing is that i almost didn't do it. i even asked michael when he brought her in if we should just fill up the tub and he could give her a bath. no, we decided, let's just get going. then, we finish and i almost call in michael to grab her and take her to her room to get dried off and dressed. no, i decided, i may as well do it. STOOPID.

so as i'm holding her hand so she can step out of the shower and over the 6 inch high step that is topped with a marble slab, her foot slips and she hits her head on the marble slab. truly, i couldn't possibly pick out a worse place for anyone to hit their head in this apartment. michael runs in because i am pretty sure i say OH MY GOD loudly - and maybe repeatedly - enough to scare him and i tell him - she hit her head on that thing - as i pull her off of my shoulder to look at the inevitable bump there is blood everywhere. i can't even tell where the source is. and the fact that we are both wet is only diluting the blood and making it seem worse. so i'm standing there freaking out and i start barking orders. how annoying.

i need a wet washcloth.
the poor guy gives me a purplish one soaked with seemingly scalding hot water.

i need a COLD, WHITE, WET WASHCLOTH.
as if this were covered in chapter one of required reading to become a parent. for all i know, i made it up.

i need ICE.
he gets it.

you need to call the doctor's office and tell them that bridget hit her head, she has a gash on her forehead that is 1/2 an inch long and might need stitches. the number is 617-xxx-6000.
i am fairly certain that i was really annoying, but i was all business. did i really just know the number? i can't imagine what i would have done if i were home alone. wet and naked and 9 months pregnant - sorry for the visual, but thats the facts. it would have been very ugly. it was ugly enough as it were.

so they send us to children's hospital and off we went. we got right in and didn't have to wait at all. the stitching part was rough. even though they promised me that the cotton ball that was on her head was soaked with numbing stuff and she couldn't feel anything, i didn't believe them. i think it hurt and she screamed bloody murder the entire time. it was horrible.

although, she actually didn't cry at all aside from when it initially happened (until i stopped trying to apply pressure to the wound) and during the stitching. she is a toughie. i still can't get over the fact that this happened even though i was holding her hand the whole time. i have finally stopped seeing it happen over and over though. poor little bella boo.

i have to say though, a trip to the children's hospital puts things in perspective. not to minimize bridget's ordeal, but 2 stitches is a bump on the head when you see some of the very sad stuff there. even though someone might be heading home, you still want to cry when you see that they are leaving with 2 suitcases because you can only imagine how long the kid was there to require 2 suitcases of stuff. like i said, i hope it was our last trip there.