A 4-year-old in a full leg cast might as well be a newborn baby
And I'm so grateful for the support flowing in
Today was our first full day home from the hospital. Friday March 7th. I could not have told you what day it was when I woke up this morning. I hadn't seen the light of day since the evening of March 5 when my four-year-old had an accident with a bicyclist, resulting in a tibial shaft fracture - a complete break of his shinbone. We got home just under 24 hours later after a long night in the ER. Clearly I am still a bit sleep deprived as normally a day spent doing physically nothing, not even a walk outside, wouldn't be this draining. It feels like having a newborn again. A completely helpless immobile child whose demands seem somewhat basic - feeding, entertaining, soothing - but in fact are so consuming that you forget even to take a bathroom break.
The outpouring of support for our family has been nothing short of amazing. That part also feels like the newborn days. The power of community is truly unbelievable, and I am deeply moved by how many people care about us. Friends, family and neighbors have been stopping constantly, even before we were even home, to drop off food and gifts and to send best wishes. There are people whom we don't interact with regularly, which makes it all the more special that they are going out of their way to show support. That is a true gift. Today two of Finn's school friends stopped by and his mood was instantly lightened. In most instances Finn is a very shy kid, so I found it pretty amazing that both times he eagerly invited them inside. I wasn't sure if he'd want to. So far he is a little hesitant to share his cast and preferred to keep a blanket over it. But he did tell Dad, "I like having a cast because people bring me things." The endless supply of new toys, games and treats is definitely helping ease the adjustment to sedentary life, but I am quite aware that it won't last. The novelty will certainly wear off, and probably sooner than I am prepared for. (The novelty of my house filling up with tiny kids toys has already worn off!) But I'll certainly take a happily entertained kid over a cranky one!
There are so many things that will get harder as the days go on - less support, less novelty, less frustration tolerance, more of our regular weekly commitments with less speed and mobility. Honestly I haven't yet tackled what next week will look like when I am solo with both kids each morning, trying to cater to one propped up in bed and one who needs to get to school. This morning was very sweet as big brother Gus was actually doting on Finn. He delivered breakfast, checked on Finn's cast, and played Walkie Talkies and their newly invented version of "hide and seek." One friend dubbed him Florence Nighten-Gus! However, spending the first few hours together is a far cry from what I imagine things are going to look like in a week or two's time, let alone three, four, five!
But we'll take that as it comes.
I awoke in the middle of the night thinking of ways to keep Finn entertained in the days to come, and ways to mark this time as something we will one day look back on, possibly even with nostalgia. I would love for us to hand-write thank you notes for everyone who has taken care of us, to gather school lessons and art projects from his teachers, commit to a book or more a day, maybe even post about it, and keep a daily gratitude or memory journal from Finn's POV. My execution however lacks in comparison to my brainstorming.
For tonight I have gratitude that we are home and gratitude for the 100th time that while a broken leg is a big darn deal, it could have been worse - it wasn't his head or his heart. And most of all, I’m grateful for my very brave boy.