Today started the way most of our weekdays typically do.
We had breakfast, did some coloring with the new Christmas craft supplies, then headed out to run a few errands. We had lunch, played outside and enjoyed some fresh air, laughter and exercise. We then went into the house for Eva's nap and Amanda's "quiet time."
In the blink of an eye, our day took a nasty turn.
I had opened the front door to see if an expected package had arrived - simply peeked my head out and came back in. When I went to close the door, it was met with resistance, as if a rug were stuck in the hinge.
I heard a cracking sound and realized it was not a
rug caught in the door, but Amanda's
hand. There was a brief moment of shocked silence, and then the screaming began.
Amanda had slid her hand in the space by the hinge, all the way up to her palm. When she pulled her hand out of the door, there was a purple line already coloring the backside of her hand.
I immediately grabbed an ice pack and tried to console Amanda, all while trying to keep Eva from climbing the dangerous stairs unassisted.
A million things were running through my head as I tried to figure out what to do next. This is the part of motherhood that I'm not very good at, due to a lack of experience in emergency situations.
In the three plus years that I've had kids, we have not had a single visit to the Emergency Room. I know it's something that we will probably face at one time or another, but I was not prepared for it today. I made a quick impluse call to Dave, who was back at the office after an 8 day vacation... followed by a call to our Pediatrician.
We received an appointment for early afternoon, which meant Eva's nap would be cut short - but for once, that wasn't my primary concern. While Eva slept, I kept an ice pack on Amanda's hand while we snuggled on the couch reading books. She told me,"You're the best mama, Mama. You make me feel better."
At the time, I didn't feel like the "best mama."
I could not stop replaying the scene in my head, over and over, as if it were a slow motion re-enactment on one of those TV crime dramas. I couldn't seem to get the "cracking" sound out of my head either. Even though it was just an accident, I felt horribly guilty and solely responsible for her pain.
To Amanda's credit, she was incredibly brave and patient... and after her initial fearful protests about going to the doctor, she cooperated fully.
While sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor to evaluate the situation, the girls were both in my lap and we were reading a Clifford book. In mid-sentence, Eva put her arm around Amanda, and gave her a big kiss (complete with "smooching" sound) on the lips. It was as if Eva knew that Amanda was in distress. That was like one of those movie moments where the sun momentarily peeks through the clouds. A sweet little tidbit to make me smile amidst all the stress and worry.
After looking at Amanda's hand, the doctor guessed that the hand was indeed broken. My heart sank.
"Have you given her any Motrin?", the doctor asked. Motrin??? That hadn't even crossed my mind! How could I have neglected to give her a simple pain reliever?? I was too worried about the swelling and the crying. Now I felt even worse!
After coming back with a dose of ibuprofen, the doctor informed us that she was sending us to the hospital's imaging center for x-rays. If the hand was broken, we'd need to make an appointment within 2-3 days to meet with an orthopedic specialist.
My head began to spin. A broken hand? An orthopedic specialist? But it's her right hand... How will she color, and practice writing her name? I know there are a lot of small and intricate bones in the hand. Will she have to have surgery? Will it hamper her ability to play piano? Will she have a cast, and if so, how will her mitten fit over it? All of these crazy thoughts banged around in my head like bumper cars.
Maybe it's just a sprain. Maybe it's nothing to worry about after all, I told myself. I promise, I'll be much more careful whenever I open or close doors in the future... house doors, barn doors, car doors, anything. It won't happen again.
One step at a time... The first step was going for x-rays.
Of course, doing any type of errand which involved waiting with two kids can be challenging, much less sitting in a quiet waiting room after a short nap and no snack. (I did pack a backpack of books before we left the house, so I was half-prepared.)
As it turns out, it all went relatively quick. Eva flirted and made funny faces with the people in the waiting room, while Amanda was whisked off to the x-ray room -- without me.
When she returned to the waiting room, she crawled up into my lap, smiled proudly at me, and said,"Mama, I was a VERY good girl."
Sometimes I am just so proud of her. Her behavior was the last thing on my mind, but leave it to her to try and divert my attention.
We waited in the waiting room for the verdict. And then the call came.
Negative. No broken bones.
"Just a bruise. Keep it iced, elevated, and give her Motrin every 6 hours."
The sense of relief was overwhelming. I finally let out the breath that I had been holding.
As we left, Amanda happily said,"Mama, I'm all better now. But don't ever, ever slam the door on my hand again."
I won't, sweetie.... I won't. After today's incident, I'm ready to install sliding doors just to make sure.
It even included rose petals, wedding invitations and a fancy pen!
Here comes the "pretend" bride.
Perhaps on her REAL wedding day, I'll display this photograph next to the wedding cake. 
