Saturday, October 24, 2009

Jessica's first experience with stitches

The scene of the crime

The result

The scene of the crime was the master bedroom at our apartment. The time was 7:30PM. The incident was Andrew cracking his head open to the point of needing his first set of stitches.

Why is this titled Jessica's first experience with stitches? That's simple. It's really all about me. Andrew was fine, minus the head wound.

The injury: We were hanging out in the bedroom for the last few minutes before bed (we were so close to making it through this day) and Andrew decided to mount our foot board like it was a horse. This is not the first, and probably not the last, time this happened. He quickly decided this wasn't nearly as exciting as he hoped so he tried to stand up on the foot board. This rapidly turned into an ugly situation as my 18 month old acrobat fell head first off the wrong side of the foot board. On his way down he clipped his head on a wooden chair that had been pulled out earlier in the day. I was up and to him before he even started crying. But by the time I had him to me he was screaming bloody murder into my shoulder. I couldn't get him to lift his head from my shoulder so that I could look at him, so I went over to Rusty to get some help. When Rusty pried Andrew's head from my neck there was blood running down his face.

The response: This is where the story transitions to me... I FREAKED OUT! I started saying, "I can't I can't I can't I can't" I was running to the kitchen for a towel and handing him to Rusty. I grab the dirty dish towel and try to hand it to Rusty to stop the bleeding. Rusty, the only one with a cool head, tells me and my bacteria covered towel to SIT DOWN. After I sit for a few seconds Rusty very calmly tells me to get a CLEAN warm rag so that we can clean him up enough to decide what to do next.
After Rusty had him cleaned decently well we thought that we probably would only need a butterfly band aid to hold the cut closed, but still needed to clean more. I ran over to the neighbors house to see if they had a band aid that we could use, and the man of the house came over to give Rusty a hand. When they got him cleaned enough to take a good look they both agreed that he was going to need stitches. At this point Andrew is cool as a cucumber, just hanging out in Rusty's lap like nothing happened. I was still so jacked on adrenaline that I could have sprinted the 10 miles to the emergency room.

The ER: After a reasonable wait in the lobby we were called back. Andrew is still acting like there's no big problem. He had been laughing and flirting with the ER receptionist the whole time we were waiting. When we get to the procedure room we see what is called a papoose. It has a backboard with Velcro straps coming off the sides. This contraption is obviously designed to keep the child as still as possible while having a needle and thread dragged through their face. This adorable little "papoose" has this adorable little Indian baby on it that is smiling like he's about to be smothered with kisses. That's not the way Andrew responded to it. Two nurses, a doctor, Rusty, and me get him into this torture device and the discontent begins. The nurses start cleaning his gash, which amps up the discontent to the next level. Then they shine a light, designed for a lighthouse, on a cloudy day, in the middle of a hurricane, into his eyes. Then they put a sheet over his face with a hole where the stitches are about to be placed. It must be at about this point that I do something that obviously disturbed the nurses because they start kindly suggesting that I sit my pregnant butt down. I reassured them that I was fine and preferred to stay with Andrew. They strongly disagreed and some five foot nothing, maybe a hundred pound, nurse came to dragged my five ten, heavier than her,self to the chair in the corner. They told me that they only needed one patient at a time.
So I got to, from the sidelines, watch as Andrew received a "numbing" shot, that no doubt hurt worse than the original injury. This is where the screaming, like I've never heard screaming, began. He cried the worst gut wrenching cry the entire time he was being given his four stitches. The nurses and Rusty had a real job to keep him still. I had to use all of my self-control to not stand up and be with him. It was the most awful thing I've ever experienced. I would do natural childbirth all over again rather than be a part of a one year olds stitches.
When it was finally over I got him in my arms as fast as I could to try and calm him down. It took a long time for the sobbing to stop. Rusty looked terrible and I asked him if he needed to hold Andrew and get some snuggles. He said that he did, so I handed him off to his daddy. I filled out our discharge paper work and received all our care instructions.

The ensuing night: We had to check on him every four hours to make sure that he didn't have a concussion, so I took the first shift, and Rusty took the second. I couldn't fall asleep to save my life, because I just kept replaying the horrible fall over and over and over again. Wondering why I hadn't gotten there faster. Why hadn't I pushed that chair back into the desk? What did I smoke while I was pregnant that made my child so crazy that he wanted to stand on the foot board at all? If I wasn't having these thoughts I was thinking that surely when I went in to wake him up he was going to have pulled out his stitches and there was going to be blood everywhere. "JESSICA, SHUSH!" this is what I kept telling myself.
When I went to check on him he was fine. When Rusty checked on him he was fine. This morning he was fine. He's still just fine. All the drama, and Andrew couldn't care less.

The conclusion: I, Jessica, feel exhausted from my first experience with stitches. I made it through my whole life without needing any. Ang, my sister, never needed any. God gives me two boys... wow.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Punkin' Patch

We went to a local farm today to pick a pumpkin. Me and Andrew, Joanne, Heather, and Davison, had a grand ol' time. It's a cute little farm that grows pumpkins, strawberries, and blueberries. Depending on the season you can go pick your own stuff. It's really a cool place. We discovered however that the pumpkin patch is pretty hard for the little boys to get around. All the vines kept making them trip. The strawberry mounds are quite a bit easier to get around. Notice the amazingly cute sweater that Andrew is wearing. It's my favorite cold weather item. We have my mother to thank for all his stylish winter clothes. Quite literally everything in his closet is Davison's hand-me-downs or from my mom!! Thanks y'all. The belly picture is embarrassingly enough, only the second one I've taken this go round. oops. I'm 32 weeks on Sunday. 8 weeks to go. (hopefully just 6)

He's saying bye bye, I don't know why.

This is the Andrew sized pumpkin that he carried around all morning.

Almost 32 weeks!!!

Heather and Davison emerging from the Hay House

Andrew making his way out of the Hay House. This was the only entrance, we were really glad they came out without help. I would have had an interesting time going in and out. Would have made for a fun picture though, I'm sure.

He's saying "bye byeeeeeeeeee" to Joanne

I wish I could edit photos to make this one not so bright and washed out. Any tips?

Wagon time!

Heather had a cowboy hat too. The Taylors always match.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Playing Catch Up

Wow it's been a long long time since I updated this sucker... I have some catching up to do. I'm going to just put up a bunch of pictures here and I'll let you know when they're from. I've got some from July! I'm a terrible mother. My second is already getting the shaft as far as pictures are concerned. I am due in 9 weeks and I've only taken one good profile belly picture. We hope to remedy that at least once more before he joins us. The shaggy blonde boy in a few of these pictures is Andrew's best friend in the world, Davison Taylor. When Andrew sees pictures of babies he screams (BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE) But, when he sees a little blonde boy he screams (DE DE) which means Davison. Very cute. Since I updated last I have been back to Texas to visit my sister and her new baby, who is no longer so new. His name is Jonah and he is adorable. While I was there he snuggled and ate and snuggled. Now, however, he cries and cries. They say it's colic, but I think maybe he just was really offended that I left. What do doctors know anyway? So if you think about praying for my sister and her husband, Jake,'s sanity... they'll take it.

There aren't a lot of things for Andrew to play with in the kitchen, so I let him unstock and restock my cans on the shelf. Rusty is already telling him to go get a job with those skills and contribute. He's a gentle soul, I know.

My aspiring shelf stocker. High hopes.

This is a lovely gift from our Dennis and Audine. He cuts iron and he sent me my favorite one. It now lives on our front door. Check him out at

One of many swim lessons with Daddy! Rusty is the best father in the world. He changes diapers, plays catch, and teaches swim technique. That's my man.

The little boys. You should see them together. It's always entertaining.

This is Andrew and Davison demanding to be in the same chair. I thought it was cute when Andrew leaned on his shoulder. This is his best bud.

Andrew loves his bike. We sit outside for at least an hour most mornings. He'll ride this up and down the sidewalk forever.

These pictures are pre-haircut. Let me know what you think about the lower ones with the sheared hair. I think my mom and dad did a pretty darn good job, especially considering Andrew's wiggles.

Yes, that's dirt in Davison's hair. No, Andrew didn't put it there!! Joanne and I were walking up on the seminary and letting the boys play for a while. This is on campus somewhere.

This is my last long haired picture of him. So sad, the curls are pretty much gone now.

Here's the whole family! We're flying a kite at the Kitty Hawk, Wright Brother's Memorial. My parents came in town last week and we got to go to the outerbanks (OBX) of North Carolina for a whole week. What a wonderful week it was.

The boys. Andrew calls my dad, PAPA or BABA. It's in caps because he only says it with true conviction. My dad is the only one who really gets a consistant name. Rusty and I are both Mama. My mom gets nothing. Soon enough I guess!

Andrew LOVED the water. I thought that the waves were going to make him a little gun shy, but he ran full force into them any time we weren't standing in his way. My little fish.

This is my Uncle Garrett. He got to come down and spend a few days with us too. Andrew was facinated by his bracelets and this was his honor to be allowed to wear one for a few minutes.

Soo cute. Garrett, now we'll find him walking around the house with my hairbands on his wrists. Thanks for that.

Alright, we're all caught up on pictures. I'll try to do better about posting more often.