The phone rang in the early morning hours...the voice was that of my 25 year old screaming, "Mama come to my house now!" There are no words to describe the feeling that washed over me for I knew something was horribly wrong.
I was out of bed before the final word was out of her mouth. I wasted no time asking questions and was dressed, in the car and at her back door in less than five minutes. I found her standing at the sink with a friend holding my daughter's towel wrapped hand above her head.
When she saw me, her face was contorted with agony...she fell against me as I unwrapped her hand to see what had happened. Through her tears and sobs she tried to explain the events that caused the devastating injury to her thumb...while trying to close a window, one that did not work properly, she lost control of it and it dropped on her thumb. I caution you...if you have a weak stomach do not look at this picture.
My baby, my sweet beautiful girl, had nearly amputated a good part of her thumb. We scooped her up and drove to the hospital...her in my lap...my heart in my throat. All the while I whispered in her ear the reassurances she needed to make it through the drive...keeping her calm...keeping me calm.
It was if she were 3 years old again with a scraped knee or a bruised shin needing her mama to comfort her and make everything in her world all right. I wasn't sure I could make this alright. Mama's have special powers with kisses and such but even I didn't think my kisses were going to be powerful enough to fix this.
Hours later...xrays, and various doctors and nurses, it was determined that a trip to the 'hand room' would be sufficient to repair the injuries. Her thumb is broken and there is missing tissue, so suture repair is ugly and healing will be slow...but she still has her thumb.
No matter how old they get...I will always be their mother. But more than that I am Mama and they still call when they need me.