Dirty Laundry

We all have things we don't want to talk about. Secrets, the past, something we did, something done to us. In our house the unspoken is the element of danger. We don't need to talk about it because it exists so much in our everyday lives that sometimes it seems to be an additional family member. Danger Lookout Graham, it'd make a cool name, no? Josh was at another meth lab tonight. His station is one of the hazmat stations in North Charleston which to me means that he'll be put in more precarious situations more often. Gas leaks, bomb threats, mysterious packages, meth labs...he is one of the guys making sure the air is breathable, clearing the scene, assisting the cops in collection/clean-up. I'm used to him coming straight home to hop in the shower, leaving me to wash his uniform immediately. "I don't want the girls touching it." Chemicals, "fluids" of a various nature, and blood are all pretty common for me to clean out. My stomach does a little flip every time I have to Shout out blood that isn't his. I'm so glad that it isn't his, and yet also sad/disgusted that it's someone else's. I mean, how many times have you been covered in some random person's blood? It's a very personal thing, to know you were that close to someone in what had to be an intense situation.

I'm here to tell you though, there is nothing like cleaning blood out of yours and your husband's shirts knowing it's your own baby's. Literally your own flesh and blood. Monday evening before dinner we went upstairs to my mom's room to hang some curtains for her as a surprise. She happened to arrive home during the process and once we were done we sat up on her couch and bed chatting and holding babies while Josh moved the TV box for her. I let go of a squirmy Addison who wanted to go climb on her bed and continued talking, while sitting on a bench at the foot of the bed. Addison clabbered up into the pillows and stood, bouncing herself to the center of the bed in a fit of giggles. I absentmindedly told her to stop jumping, it was dangerous and asked Mom how the cake went over (see Happy Birthday Cake - Daisy). I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Addi fling out her arms and dive from the pillows to the foot of the bed. I threw out my own arm and connected with some part of her middle but her forehead still slammed into the ironwork footboard. I had her snatched up and in my arms before she drew a breath to scream and there was already blood running down her face.

By then Mom and Loralei and Josh had run over. The next part is a little blurry to me as I stood there holding her but we ended up in Mom's bathroom with a towel pressed to Addison's head as she cried and tried to push Josh's arms away. "She needs to go to the hospital," Mom said so we all ran down the stairs with babies and into the kitchen where Ryan met us having heard the commotion and mention of an ER. In the next 10 minutes everyone acted. Ryan ran to the garage for a Popsicle to help the tears, I grabbed snacks and a milk cup for the diaper bag since no one had eaten yet, Josh called several ER's to establish which would be the best for pediatric care and Mom held Loralei and talked to Addi to keep her calm.

Josh, Addison and I jumped in the car and drove as quickly and safely as we could to Nason Medical. I filled out paperwork and then we were admitted to wait to see a doctor. The wait seemed forever and Josh and I did what we could to distract our baby girl and keep her happy.

Finally the doctor breezed in and before he even touched her, Addison began to cry again. Josh held her down as she was evaluated and it was decided that glue would be a better alternative to stitches for her age and the scarring. He left for a few minutes and in that moment Josh and I looked at each other and felt a sad connection. Our first baby and her first real accident. It was horribly clarifying that we can't protect her from everything. The doctor then returned with a nurse and a sheet as Addigator's crocodile tears started up again. "We're gonna make her a burrito. I need someone to help hold her head." "That's all you Josh," I said. I can't hold my baby down for pain. When she cries at shots, I tear up too.

Addison was wailing when Josh set her down and started really screaming and thrashing as the nurse wrapped her arms up in that sheet. Nurse, doctor and Josh all laid her back on the bed and doctor prepared to glue her cut. By this point, it's a miracle people weren't streaming in to see the tiny person with the big voice. When my sister spit her chin open and needed stitches, it took 8 nurses and doctors to hold her down and the doctor ended up stitching them backwards and had to REMOVE THEM only to do it again. Let me tell you what Aunt Holly, Addison would've made you proud. She fought, she yelled, she wiggled, and I'm sure if it needed to be another minute she would've broken out.

When it was all over and my baby was unwrapped she wanted nothing but her Mama and vice-gripped my neck. We gathered up ourselves and our things to check-out throwing away the white hand-towel of my mother's that was now colorful with purple Popsicle juice and my baby's bright-red blood. I asked Josh if it was any different having a random person's blood on you compared to your baby's, because it felt different to me as I sprayed Shout on his shirt that night...