Hospitals, as you can imagine, are not my favorite places. Yet, today I found myself in the Emergency Room once again. My poor little middle most got his finger tip ripped off. I mean, really? We can’t, he can’t, catch a break!

This morning life was flowing along at such a great pace. We were up early enough to get us all ready, out the door, and into town in time to stop for a gift on our way to my nephew’s 10 o’clock birthday party 45 minutes away.

In that 45 minutes we had some great conversations in the car. My oldest told me his lists of things he wanted to be when he grows up. I was mortified by most of it, but acted as though these were all great choices. Lets just say, topping the list were police officer, soldier, and fire fighter. For the time being boxer has been bumped out of the top five. Whew! One dodged bullet. Don’t get me wrong, I think these are all very important and amazing careers. But when a mother hears the words “soldier” and “I want to be” in the same sentence there is a moment where I think there is literally no blood circulating throughout your body.

Needless to say I quickly diverted the conversation to informing him how great it was he had so much time to make all these decisions about his life. Yea, he agreed. And added, that his friend wants to be boxer, they box sometimes.

Oy, please child cut this momma a break for a minute.

Brain is running…what can we say to make this about anything else…ding!

Well, did you know that I decided I wanted to be a writer when I was very young, maybe 10 years old, and I never changed my mind. He said really, whats a writer? Apparently not so impressive to him. And I explained, a person who tells stories on paper. He said, you’re a writer? Again, I am not impressing. I told him I still hoped to be, yes. But then came the impressive part…

I told him that my being a writer was one of the reasons we gave him his name, Ryder. The other was that his dad loved to ride. Ride a horse, a snowboard, a skateboard, a wakeboard, you name it…if it could be ridden, he had likely tried it and been pretty darn good at it. Wow, cool, I never want to change my name. As if the thought of changing his name had actually occurred to him before. This led to other discussions of the names of all the boys.

It was a great conversation. They are all named after people in the family. Ryder is, again quite lucky, as his middle name is Anthony, his dad’s name. We discussed grandparents and our ancestry, the foundation of our little family and the deep roots that stretch far and wide across this country. What a wonder it is that two people can find each other in the mountains and valleys of our history. An amazing wonder, to be honored and cherished.

We pulled up to the party venue with seven whole minutes to spare, yes! Killing it! We jumped out of the car and bam…my middle mosts right index finger was slammed in the car door by his older brother and why wouldn’t he just jerk it out instinctively….leaving the tip and nail behind? As I heard him crying I came around the back of the car to see his finger bloodied and shorter.

A million things decide to run through your mind in that moment. I have to say, there were so many pluses to how and where this happened. We had lots of family ready and available, I just had to get my shaky brain and hand to remember how to use my phone to call someone who was maybe a football field away in the lobby of the center. The panic on Ryder’s face, he nearly threw up. I completely understood. I grabbed a diaper out of the bag and wrapped it around the finger. Went to the door, opened it, and located the tip that had come off. I, for some reason, felt this needed to be saved. After all they could reattach it, right? He could be a breakthrough in laser surgery. (wink, wink) Family showed up to help. We formulated a plan. Some stayed, some went and we were off…to the hospital, again.

His finger is stitched and bandaged. It is shorter, it will always be shorter. And for the record when you just lose the tip, that sucker is staying off, no blood vessels really to keep it going. The nail is iffy at best as to whether it will make another appearance. He survived. We survived.

And after all the traumatic events he struggled through today, he found a way to make peace with it. And I am forever amazed by his tender heart. He said to me “Mommy its ok that my finger tip fell of, I am not dying. I am alive, you are alive, and daddy is in our hearts.”

And my cup runneth over!