A Memorable Mother's Day

This is how Mother's Day started for me:

French toast. My sweet husband tried to copy a breakfast we ate (at Ebbitt's Grill) while in Washington D.C. the week before because I raved about it. So yummy.

Breakfast in bed. The "Special" plate. Warm, smiling children excited to present me with a plethora of Mother's Day cards and coupons.

And this is how Mother's Day ended for me:

A trip to Wee Care to get stitches.

Everything was going fine . . . until it wasn't. We had decided to go on a relaxing family walk together to enjoy the beautiful day and get some wiggles out. Dan and I buckled the baby in the stroller while the rest of the kids hopped on their bikes. Just as we rounded the first corner, we happened upon some friends. This was serendipitous due to the fact we were heading right to their home to wish them good luck in their upcoming move and tell them how much we would miss their family.

We started talking. In an effort to ward off boredom, some of the kids started riding their bikes in circles near the corner where we were standing. That's when my husband suddenly said, "Oh no." I turned just in time to see my five-year-old hop up off the gritty blacktop road and come running towards us, howling.

We were only about 20 yards away, but by the time we met (we running towards him and he running towards us), he was already bleeding profusely. Dan swept him up in his arms and we proceeded down the street back to our home, my hand pressed against his bloody head in the area it appeared the wound was.

We laid him on the counter and proceeded to try to clean him up so we could tell how bad he was injured. There was literally blood everywhere--on his shirt, on his feet--even his ear was full of blood. Not knowing exactly what to do, especially since it was a Sunday evening, which meant our medical options were limited, we called his Primary teacher, who just happens to be a nurse. She came right over with her medical kit. We finally got him cleaned up enough to tell he had a pretty bad abrasion and puncture in his skull above his left eye. She bandaged him up and suggested we take him to get stitches.

He was obviously not too happy about life at this point.

Ugh!

There is nothing like seeing your children in pain. This little boy happens to be a pretty tough kid, so hearing him constantly cry about his head hurting was agonizing. He had a humongous goose egg on his head and I was quite worried about a concussion due to the fact that he broke his fall off the bicycle with his head smacking on the road.

Thankfully, everything turned out fine. Four hours and three big blue stitches later, we returned home with a tired, achy, but happy, little boy.

It's amazing to me it looked this good in the end.

So, although it wasn't quite the Mother's Day I was hoping for, it was definitely memorable. And I just have to say it was meaningful as well. As I held my bloody little boy in my arms, waiting for our turn to see the doctor, my eyes filled with tears at how much I loved him. I thought of how blessed I was to be right there, holding my child in my arms, comforting him, trying to ease his pain. I thought of how much this little boy loves me back, despite all my flaws and mistakes as a mother, and I just couldn't help but feel part of something so much bigger and more important than anything else in the world. I looked into his trusting blue eyes and was humbled at the thought that God trusted me and his dad enough to take care of him and train him and teach him and protect him.

And so, at the end of the day, I went to bed happy and humble. Grateful my child would be OK and that his injuries weren't worse, grateful for my husband's strong arms and quiet reassurances, grateful once again to be a mother.