Blowing & Drifting

Yesterday, Vivi fell off the deck of the Northfield city pool and hurt herself pretty badly. I should have been right there, but I was talking for a second with another dad, and when I looked back, Vivi had slipped, basically right into my arms. But still. She cried really hard, screaming, “I hurt my bottom!” but after a few minutes she calmed down and started to play again. We played in the water for a while, and then headed home, where we discovered that her underwear was full of blood. She and I headed straight for the emergency room. There a doctor examined her. Without getting too gory, suffice to say that her injury was bad enough that he had to call for advice from the pediatric gynecologist at Children’s Hospital in St. Paul. Luckily, they decided that, despite the injury, Vivi would not need any treatment beyond some antibiotic ointment and taking it easy.

Through all this hubbub, Vivi didn’t cry, didn’t wince, didn’t complain… She just held my hand and watched the nurses and doctor work. And she didn’t cry later that night, when she finally went to the bathroom at home, or the next morning when she woke up and had to have her diaper changed, or during the day, or even tonight when she had a warm bath.

I’ve never understood what other parents mean when they say that they’re inspired by their kids’ bravery, but I do now. Little Genevieve is as tough and brave as anyone I’ve ever met.