August 29th turned out to be the worst day in Paxton's life, and the day that this mama's heart broke. Packy and Hudsy were jumping off the couch (even though "no jumping" is a very strict rule in this house!) and we believe Hudsy landed directly on Packy's leg. No one else was in the room at the time, but both Hudsy's and Packy's stories are the same. The scream that came out of my baby's mouth was one we've never heard. Jamie was in the shower at the time and said he didn't even think it was one of our kids. I immediately ran to the living room to find Packy on the floor, crying in pain, grabbing at his thigh. It didn't take us long to realize that something was seriously wrong. We headed to the ER, got x-rays, and found out he broke his femur. And the second the doctor gave us the news, my heart sank. I had been crying already, even had the nurse crying with me, but with the words "spiral fracture" and "we'll need to get the orthopedic surgeon in here", I completely fell apart. Packy had been falling in and out of sleep, and the doctors assured us that the medication they gave him would sedate him during the casting process....but they were wrong. Our little guy was awake the entire time, watching every strip of fiber glass being wrapped around his legs and body, heard and watched the saw cut away at the extra pieces, and felt them pull and turn his leg to reset it correctly. And he was the bravest boy I have ever known. He cried of course, called for his mama to hold him, begged to go to home to his bed, but not once did he try to move, get away, not even scream. He laid still, asked them politely to not cut him with the saw, and held me as tight as he could. I was in awe of him, and continue to be. He is in a half body cast, which he calls his "hard pants", for 4-6 weeks, a time frame that I cannot even comprehend right now. I ache inside thinking of the pain he's in, the things he'll miss out on, and all the simple things we took for granted like riding in a car, going to the bathroom, even just sitting up. And all the while, he lays on the couch, watching cartoon after cartoon, enjoying all the visitors and attention, LOVING the gifts, and saying "thank you" to each and every person in the most genuine voice. He has been showered with love and we can't thank our families enough. Like any parent, I would give anything to take this away from him, to be in his place instead. My heart feels a pain its never felt. But I know there are worse things. I'm thankful it's temporary, he'll walk again, play again, and most definitely jump off the couch again. And I have learned that my sweet, gentle natured 2 year old boy, is stronger and braver than I'll ever be.
His spot on the couch. The place he watches cartoons and movies, drives trucks on himself, plays games on a Nintendo DS that he has no idea how to play but loves it anyway, reads book after book, eats TONS and TONS of candy, and hears the front door open and immediately asks, "who's here now?". He decorated his "hard pants" with stickers before everyone started writing messages for him.
He wanted to hang out with Sister.
