Nolan Can’t Fly

Tags

2 year old concussion, concussion, nolan can't fly, playground equipment safety

On Saturday, December 1, it was proven to us, without a doubt, that Nolan can’t fly. Much like Buzz Lightyear.

After our morning swimming lessons, we headed over to the park by our house. It’s a large park with a few play structures under a shaded awning and surrounded by wood chips.

Avery and Nolan started a game of imagining that the play structure was a pirate ship and even got some of the neighbor kids in on the gig. Nolan was fascinated by these older kids and while standing at the top of a 6′ platform that is the opening to a ladder, he took one step backwards, fell off the platform, hit his head on the ladder and bounced forward landing in the wood chips face first.

Austen and I were standing not more than 3 feet away from him. {BTW, his name is Austen, not AJ. Now that you’ve been introduced, I’ll carry on…}

Now that I’m a good few days away from this emergency, I don’t know as if I would have handled it the same way – however, the first thing I did was pick him up. I’m blessed that it didn’t cause more damage and honestly it’s not something that even occurred to me while I was in the throws of this. Your baby falls, you pick him up. End of story.

His eyes were rolled back into his head, he was doing a strange convulsion thing with his arms and he was very, very heavy and limp. His mouth was full of blood and wood chips and he wasn’t crying.

I handed him to Austen because that’s what I’m prone to do when I’m in over my head, and grabbed Avery off the equipment We needed to get home. The dad of the other kids came up to me and asked ‘is he OK?’

I screamed at him.

Avery asked why we were leaving. I screamed at her, too.

Nolan just kept crying that he wanted to ‘lay down’ and then proceed to vomit repeatedly.

We got to the ER and they immediately put a neck brace on him in prep for a CT scan which was ‘unremarkable’. The first time in my life I’ve ever wanted anyone in my family to be ‘unremarkable’ – which means there was no bleeding on the brain or skull fractures. They asked him how old he was in order to gauge his level of alertness. He held up two tiny little fingers while his eyes were shut. I cried a lot.

They then took us by ambulance to Phoenix Children’s Hospital for overnight observation. I was so thankful for that because I was petrified to be responsible for this child overnight at home. I imagined myself sitting by his bedside in the dark watching his little chest rise up and down in sheer panic while drinking 100 Diet Cokes in order to stay awake.

Nighttime was rough. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check in on him and he kept waking in pain. Food and drink wouldn’t stay down. I kept staring at him through the holes in the bed. He didn’t even want me to hold him because he was so uncomfortable.

{My view of Nolan from the recliner in the middle of the night.}

The next morning was much better but they wouldn’t let us go home until Nolan was eating, keeping his food down and walking. He really didn’t want to walk. Austen and Avery visited us and brought an early birthday present for the little guy. A ‘big Buzz that talks’ is really the only thing he asked for. That, and a McQueen Big Boy Bike, but that seemed inappropriate to whip out given the circumstances.

{Even Buzz didn’t cheer him up. Nolan had a few scratches up by his eye, but was left pretty cosmetically unscathed.}

This was the longest I’ve ever gone without a Nolan smile, but we finally got one after he ate a PB&J.

{Oh, Smile, how I’ve missed you.}

We finally got to go home on Sunday evening after Nolan walked to the cafeteria with me to get some ice cream.

Nolan’s fall and subsequent suffering was probably the worst thing that I’ve ever witnessed and I realize how fortunate I am to be able to say that. I really thought he was gone. It was a fleeting thought, but he was unresponsive for a few seconds. It scared me to death.

The reality was not lost on me that a lot of those parents at PCH were there with children much less healthy than mine. The parents that take showers at the hospital. That know every nook and cranny of the building and know the staff by name. What happened to us was awful as far as my limited perspective of tragedy goes. I hope my family never knows any greater, but I have unending respect for those that do. We’re parents and those are our babies.

Now we’re just dealing with a bad headache and the fact that I want to wrap my son in bubblewrap. Also, I want to ensure that Avery has processed this as she saw a lot of stuff I wish she hadn’t. I asked her if she had any questions about what happened this weekend, and she just asked me if I was still sad. She danced in a holiday lights parade this weekend. Austen turned into a Dance Mom, got her hair and make up done and was an absolute champ. We were able to Facetime them from the hospital and he really made sure I felt like I was there. Avery had a blast.

{Not sure where Austen learned how to apply make up and do hair, but I’m glad he did.}

Lesson learned – unfortunately it’s an obvious one that shouldn’t have taken this accident for me to have grasped: Just because it’s a playground doesn’t mean that 6′ platforms are safe. I’d never normally let a 2 year old climb up on something that high anywhere else, so why at a playground was it OK? I had a false sense of security that I will never get back. Just because it had the word ‘play’ in the name.

I feel so blessed to have a healthy child that is on the mend and will be good as new in a few days. TWO healthy children.

Hug your kids tonight, absorb my hard-learned lesson that shouldn’t take a genius to figure out, and pray for those parents that wish the worst thing they ever had to deal with was a kid with a bad headache.