It’s a feeling every working mother knows all too well.
When the incoming phone number registers as your daycare facility, you know it’s not a good sign.
“We are calling to inform you that your son had a fall,” the woman said. “He is holding his arm close to his body and seems distraught.”
“Do you think he broke something?” I asked, terrified she would say yes.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “In my experience, when kids break a bone, they are screaming pretty consistently.”
I was not convinced. My cousin fell off a couch at the age of 2 — onto carpet — and never freaked out. But consistent low-grade whining days later led to an X-ray that revealed a broken elbow.
“Do you think I need to come get him?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. We will watch him closely, but I think he will be OK in a little bit,” she said.
That was an immense relief. My day was packed with work meetings and other tasks I just couldn’t put off.
But the peace didn’t last long. Not even 30 minutes later, another call came in.
This time, the woman said my son had not calmed down and would not move his arm at all. It was that moment where my primary consideration instantly clicked into place.
“I’m on my way,” I said.
When I walked into his daycare room, he was lying down, and tearfully said, “Momma get me. Doctor.”
It ripped my heart out to hear it. I gingerly put him in the car, as he whined any time his right arm moved. As we drove to the doctor, he kept rubbing his favorite blanket gently on his arm, saying it was “kissing ouchy.”
After about two hours of exams and an X-ray, we found out he had a partially dislocated elbow. Once the doctor manipulated it back into place, he was back to his old, precocious self.
And I was able to breathe again.
It’s these moments where your priorities crystallize. Suddenly the meetings that just couldn’t be postponed and the work tasks that just couldn’t be put off seemed so silly and trite.
My son needed me, and it was a good reminder that I’m a mom first and a journalist second — and that’s fine with me.
— Sarah Leach is editor of The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
When the incoming phone number registers as your daycare facility, you know it’s not a good sign.
“We are calling to inform you that your son had a fall,” the woman said. “He is holding his arm close to his body and seems distraught.”
“Do you think he broke something?” I asked, terrified she would say yes.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “In my experience, when kids break a bone, they are screaming pretty consistently.”
I was not convinced. My cousin fell off a couch at the age of 2 — onto carpet — and never freaked out. But consistent low-grade whining days later led to an X-ray that revealed a broken elbow.
“Do you think I need to come get him?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. We will watch him closely, but I think he will be OK in a little bit,” she said.
That was an immense relief. My day was packed with work meetings and other tasks I just couldn’t put off.
But the peace didn’t last long. Not even 30 minutes later, another call came in.
This time, the woman said my son had not calmed down and would not move his arm at all. It was that moment where my primary consideration instantly clicked into place.
“I’m on my way,” I said.
When I walked into his daycare room, he was lying down, and tearfully said, “Momma get me. Doctor.”
It ripped my heart out to hear it. I gingerly put him in the car, as he whined any time his right arm moved. As we drove to the doctor, he kept rubbing his favorite blanket gently on his arm, saying it was “kissing ouchy.”
After about two hours of exams and an X-ray, we found out he had a partially dislocated elbow. Once the doctor manipulated it back into place, he was back to his old, precocious self.
And I was able to breathe again.
It’s these moments where your priorities crystallize. Suddenly the meetings that just couldn’t be postponed and the work tasks that just couldn’t be put off seemed so silly and trite.
My son needed me, and it was a good reminder that I’m a mom first and a journalist second — and that’s fine with me.
— Sarah Leach is editor of The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
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