Sunday was just an ordinary evening.
My mom texted to ask if we could FaceTime for a couple minutes (which my Dad and I joke about because it's never just a couple minutes).
So I called her.
Brady P. was listening to his music, so he wasn't too interested in anything else. But then I had an idea to engage him.
It was just a normal night, remember. His first day back to school was the next morning.
"Hey, Braeds!" I interrupted over the "Wash Your Hands" song for the umpteenth time that day. "Want to show them how you hang?"
"Oh! Yeah!" he agreed.
He gripped the bar that extends over his little trampoline, pulled his legs over it and clasped it with his knees. A pretty cool trick! Gramma and Grampy were impressed.
But then he did this flip where he let go with his hands and undid his knees, so he totally let go of the bar. Kind of like the "penny drop" we did in elementary school or one of those flip dismounts only gymnasts should do.
But that was his first time.
As I shouted, "Woah, cool flip, dude!" I heard the tunk sound of his head hitting the metal rim of the trampoline. It took him a moment to react.
"I godda go!" I told my parents.
Then he began to cry. A wicked cry. As I gingerly helped him sit, he held his hands over his mouth, muffling his wails.
When I looked down at the surface of the trampoline, I saw all the blood that dumped out of his mouth. And I watched more blood run down his hands and face.
I have seen enough bloody wrecks to know that when you see blood, especially on an impressionable child, you don't freak out.
Since it was my own child, and I kind of was freaking out on the inside, I took a deep breath, and did what I know you should do to the best of my ability: Stay calm and stop the bleeding. Major priorities here.
I ran to get a piece of paper towel (but I should have brought the whole roll). "Here, sweetie. Hold this up, and spit!"
"Ptu," he spit in little Brady P. not-really-spit way. But it seemed more effective than when he brushes his teeth!
"Good job! Can you spit for me again?" I directed as we filled up three more pieces of paper towel.
With blood.
When his mouth was finally draining faster than it was filling, he was able to speak. He looked down at the trampoline and his hands and shirt and said, "Mummy, that's blood."
"It is blood," I agreed. Because, that's just what I do when he makes a correct observation. I was trying to make things feel ordinary.
"That's your blood, sweets. You hit your mouth on the trampoline while you were doing that cool flip! Can I look in your mouth, please?"
He opened a little bit, and I saw this lovely gouge stamped into his tongue.
"Oh, God," I thought. "That's like three teeth worth of wound. Good thing tongues heal fast!"
Once I understood the source of the bleeding, I had a decision to make: Drive 40 miles to the ER or take care of it myself.
"Tongues heal fast," I repeated to myself.
Then I did what I always do in a medical emergency. I called my mom.
She got a look at the wound, and I proudly showed my parents all the blood we had cleaned up.
She agreed that tongues are vascular and heal quickly, so we could probably stop the blood at home. She also gave me many more recommendations than I never asked for because she is a nurse.
A really good nurse.
I tried her ice cube trick and got him to swallow some ice cold water. Within moments after the second call with my parents, the bleeding stopped.
"Look, Braeden!" I cheered, "You're spitting clear now! The blood stopped! You're doing great!"
By that time I had him in my lap and arms, rocking him gently and still soaking up his slightly-tinged drool from his sweet little ever-drooling mouth.
I just kept telling him how he was going to be all better soon, and that he was doing really well.
I think that was key. Because I think he believed me. Because that's was happened.
Sure, I mean, he was in a lot of pain that night, so I had to give him something stronger than Tylenol. I conferred with my nurse on that, and he slept soundly for a while.
I did not sleep, however. I lied next to him with this Dear Santa song we both love stuck in my head while I listened to make sure he was breathing.
You know, typical mom stuff.
And in the morning, he woke up way more chipper than I would have thought. And way earlier.
"Mummy, lets' get up!" he urged at 6:45 am (which was earlier than if I had set his alarm for school!).
"Nope, " I replied. "I'm still tired."
"Okay. I'll go play. You stay sleeping."
Did I ever tell you that I have the coolest did in the world???
So I turned on a light for him and laid down in my own bed for a bit. Being unsure of how he would feel in the morning, I notified the school during the wee hours that he needed a day to heal.
Eating breakfast was a bit rough for him, but he seemed pretty good otherwise. And when I looked in his mouth, I was surprised how it looked the next day.
What a great healer! Even all the other teeth piercing marks were gone!
And within minutes, he was back to listening to music and... jumping on his trampoline.
But I lined the rim with a foam pool noodle, so he can keep practicing his flips.
And when I picked him up from school yesterday, his wonderful aide said, "He healed up so fast! Mouths are amazing."
Yup. That's what I thought! Whew!
P.S. Copper Harbor Vitality is having a holiday sale! If you are interested in checking out the new sale items, new artwork and getting an extra 20% off of all products (with the code GRATEFUL), click here to shop! Thanks!
