As you may know, I had to have a c-section with Sasha. That was not in the plan. The doctor told me that because Sasha was not descending, it was unlikely I'd be able to do a regular birth. This was disappointing. However, I dealt with the unexpected with fortitude.
That's not just MY opinion. The anesthesiologist told my parents I "comported (my)self well." That's, actually, a pretty nice compliment. It's kind of "she didn't cry or throw a tantrum, she just accepted that stuff wouldn't be the way she wanted it and dealt with it accordingly."
Sabrina is my daughter.
Today, I was inside, the kids were just outside the backdoor. Sabrina has been really into dandelions lately, and sadly (or stupidly, as the case may be made)we had some Mason jars outside, and I think she thought they would make lovely vases. The result was sadly predictable. "Crash!" "Waaah!" "Uh-oh." (Jar, Sabrina, and myself, respectively.)
The cut on the inside of her finger was pretty bloody and seemed kind of deep. Hand wound? Not really feeling like taking chances. So, I held her, told her she would be fine, cleaned her up, and took her to the doctor.
During the cleaning of the cut, she was so brave. A little whimpering, but so brave. Then, they put a numbing agent on it. Apparently, before it numbs, it burns. She was scream-ing. But she never pulled away. She let them do what they needed to do. Then, the doctor (really a PA, but who cares) came in, and checked out the injury. She, again, was so brave. No crying or even whimpering at all. He decided she needed a couple of stitches, since the cut was a little deep and right on the inside of her knuckle, so every time she opened her hand, it would pull the cut open again.
Then came the worst part: the shots to numb her finger for the stitches. Again, she was totally crying and screaming, but left her hand where it needed to be. The doctor joked she was making it easy on the nurse; she usually has to hold the kid down. As he gave her the two stitches, I told Sabrina to close her eyes and lay her head back. Then, as she got stitched up, I said, "That feels funny, doesn't it?" She said "Yeah." And giggled. Giggled.
Anyway, as Mom says, she comported herself well. She was brave, not crying when she wasn't hurt, and strong, not pulling away or having a tantrum when she WAS hurt.
Then we went to the store and got princess bandaids, the cure for any ill.
Good work, baby girl.