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Having our grand daughter here for the night is such a treat for us. She’s 2½ and smart as a whip. I call her my precious punky but she corrects me saying her name is Morgan.
Spending time today with Morgan has taken me back to a time when her father was that very age. That would have been the spring of 1987. We were raising our four sons on a beef farm in rural Ontario. It was a lovely day, mild and warm perfect for planting our potatoes. I had strep-throat and no help to anyone. Suffering in bed while everyone was out enjoying the day didn’t seem fair to me. The boys were up in the mow playing with a new litter of kittens when it happened. Boy #4, our youngest wandered off in the mow while the others played. Leaning against the elevator door he fell, a good 3 meters to a concrete pad below. I’m not sure how long he laid there before he was discovered but it couldn’t have been very long. In my sick bed upstairs I heard the ruckus and came running.
Carrying him in, while yelling for me to come down, my x gently laid our son on the couch and called 911. I knelt beside my baby boy softly touching his face. His forehead was wide open, the skin having split revealing his white skull beneath. His eyes were only whites the dark brown of his eyes was gone. He made this odd gurgling sound as I stayed by his side and silently prayed for fear of losing my youngest son.
Within 10 minutes the ambulance had arrived and they were on their way to the hospital. Keeping the other boys close by my side we waited to hear word. They arrived at the hospital but he was then transferred to a children’s hospital in a larger town. Not hearing anything for what seemed like hours I was quickly losing control. Finally the call came. Our baby son was admitted into the children’s trauma unit after undergoing CAT scans checking his skull for fractures.
For three days our youngest son was unconscious. Those were the three most difficult days of my life. When my x came home from work I would race to the hospital to be with my baby boy. I remember just sitting and watching his beautiful little face as he slept. On the evening of the third day his eyes began to flutter open and my heart leapt for joy within my chest. I sat with him on my lap for the first time in three days. I didn’t think I would be able to let him go. As it was getting late and it was time for me to leave the doctor came in and told me I could take him home with me.
For the next few days we were told to keep him quiet and restrict his activities. That is a very tall order when you are talking about a 2½ year old boy with 3 big brothers. It was a difficult task which I was fighting a losing battle with. By the middle of that week the doctor called with the CAT scan results. He sustained a closed head injury and would be fine.
Throughout this horrible ordeal we were blessed with so many concerned people phoning, asking if there was anything they could do, asking about our son’s well being and even bringing over meals and deserts to get us through so I didn’t have to worry about cooking.
Looking back now we were certainly well blessed although, as it’s all happening you are so weak and over whelmed you don’t realize these blessings. Now looking at our son’s precious daughter we are incredibly blessed to have her in our lives. We could have easily lost her daddy that day but God had other plans.
~DebTim~
Spending time today with Morgan has taken me back to a time when her father was that very age. That would have been the spring of 1987. We were raising our four sons on a beef farm in rural Ontario. It was a lovely day, mild and warm perfect for planting our potatoes. I had strep-throat and no help to anyone. Suffering in bed while everyone was out enjoying the day didn’t seem fair to me. The boys were up in the mow playing with a new litter of kittens when it happened. Boy #4, our youngest wandered off in the mow while the others played. Leaning against the elevator door he fell, a good 3 meters to a concrete pad below. I’m not sure how long he laid there before he was discovered but it couldn’t have been very long. In my sick bed upstairs I heard the ruckus and came running.
Carrying him in, while yelling for me to come down, my x gently laid our son on the couch and called 911. I knelt beside my baby boy softly touching his face. His forehead was wide open, the skin having split revealing his white skull beneath. His eyes were only whites the dark brown of his eyes was gone. He made this odd gurgling sound as I stayed by his side and silently prayed for fear of losing my youngest son.
Within 10 minutes the ambulance had arrived and they were on their way to the hospital. Keeping the other boys close by my side we waited to hear word. They arrived at the hospital but he was then transferred to a children’s hospital in a larger town. Not hearing anything for what seemed like hours I was quickly losing control. Finally the call came. Our baby son was admitted into the children’s trauma unit after undergoing CAT scans checking his skull for fractures.
For three days our youngest son was unconscious. Those were the three most difficult days of my life. When my x came home from work I would race to the hospital to be with my baby boy. I remember just sitting and watching his beautiful little face as he slept. On the evening of the third day his eyes began to flutter open and my heart leapt for joy within my chest. I sat with him on my lap for the first time in three days. I didn’t think I would be able to let him go. As it was getting late and it was time for me to leave the doctor came in and told me I could take him home with me.
For the next few days we were told to keep him quiet and restrict his activities. That is a very tall order when you are talking about a 2½ year old boy with 3 big brothers. It was a difficult task which I was fighting a losing battle with. By the middle of that week the doctor called with the CAT scan results. He sustained a closed head injury and would be fine.
Throughout this horrible ordeal we were blessed with so many concerned people phoning, asking if there was anything they could do, asking about our son’s well being and even bringing over meals and deserts to get us through so I didn’t have to worry about cooking.
Looking back now we were certainly well blessed although, as it’s all happening you are so weak and over whelmed you don’t realize these blessings. Now looking at our son’s precious daughter we are incredibly blessed to have her in our lives. We could have easily lost her daddy that day but God had other plans.
~DebTim~
