Our Very First Aid

I am sure there is more to come, but my poor little girl had to have stitches last week. She was walking along the water's edge at low tide and fell forward. A jagged shell sliced open her knee.

I swooped her up while blood ran down her knee at mock speed and raced up to the First Aid station at Compo Beach in Westport.

A young, pretty girl in a bikini and short shorts rinsed off her leg with some water. She seemed a little out of her element, but sweet none-the-less. After looking at the cut again, I knew stitches were unavoidable. We got in the car. Luckily my babysitter was with me that day, otherwise I may have started to cry as well.

We got into the car and drove off to the emergency walk-in. The hospital was too far -- I was out of gas -- and the people who usually do stitches and such were out of the office on holiday. We called ahead and they let us right into a room. I was thankful not to have to be in the waiting room with a screaming, tired and super scared toddler. My amazing new sitter took Zoe and got everyone some lunch at the diner across the street, and then went to Walgreens for some diapers. The one time I forget to restock the diapers in the diaper bag and of course needed them desperately. Go mom...

After a few minutes of trying to keep Isabelle calm and distracted, I wondered where the nurses and doctor had gone off to. I realize there were other people waiting to be seen, but I had always thought blood and a screaming toddler somehow bumped you to the front of the line. I popped my head out the door to see what was happening. The nurse then informed me it would be about an hour and a half wait.

Isabelle then started to go into hysterics when I closed the door again. I started to brainstorm as to how I was going to keep her happy until they came to sew back up her knee, which would also be an unhappy time. It was nearly Noon -- both lunch and nap time -- which meant the hysterics would just worsen over time. After about an hour, the nurses took pity on me and convinced the doctor to detour.

The women in the waiting room offered to let us go ahead, but the doctor was determined to make a point. There was a serious reason this guy wasn't a pediatrician. Anyway, I can't say anything bad because I am thankful he sewed up my daughter's knee and that I didn't have to wait in a hospital. That would be much scarier.

They numbed the knee and cleaned out the sand and small rocks. Ouch. Isabelle was still hysterical. She actually fell asleep during the stitches, about eight in all (very jagged cut), out of exhaustion. We went home so everyone could nap.

The silence was needed all around. When Izzy woke up, she said "banana!" That was followed by a grilled cheese. She seemed to be in good spirits, all be it quite drained.

We all had ice cream for dinner.