I Was A Young Mom And Didn't Think

You know people joke about doctors practicing medicine. When you hear that most generally they aren't smiling. They are being sarcastic and say something to the effect that "I don't want them practicing on me." Well, I think that being a young mom is essentially the same thing. There are no manuals. Plus, you get advice on "how to do everything from A to Z. You get advice from your family and friends and no advice from your husband because he doesn't have a clue. I don't feel that I was any different in many ways. It was trial and error. I had had one child when the "accident" happened and had not had any major problems.

He was two!

We were replacing the furnace in our great big house. It was September in South Dakota which meant you needed a bit of heat to keep the chill out. I had a two year old daughter and a ten month old son. The furnace installation had been delayed for more than one reason and then another. I needed the kitchen to be warm for my crawling baby. He was a busy baby, but I was right beside him when in a flash he grabbed the hot bake element. Needless to say his father and every other person in the world it seemed was furious with me. No one ever said anything mean to me, however, they did question how in the world such a thing could happen. No one could say anything worse to me than what I was saying to myself.
Once at the hospital an E.R. nurse grabbed a harsh hospital wash cloth and started washing his hand. I screamed at her and yelled "get him a lollipop!"
She looked at me like I had lost my mind, but did just that; he quieted. I understood what she was attempting to do, but I couldn't stand his screaming in pain. In my eyes she was increasing his agony.

Joe has a cool laugh

My baby boy did not drink from a bottle. He had thrown that away some weeks before. In those days there weren't pacifiers abundantly popular like there are now. I tried giving him a bottle again, but he threw it in anger. It just seemed like there was nothing I could do to comfort him. He would not be soothed with anything but a very soft cloth that was very cold against his bandages. Thank you God for the rocking chair. His dad bought a big box of what they called in those days "dum dum suckers." I just realized that they still sell them by the bag. Those seemed to keep him busy and occupied from the pain.
The doctor told me what creams to use and what exercises to do with that poor little hand. As he got older the scars were more faint. However, when I last saw him I noticed the scars of my careless act were still very apparent on his hand.
Isn't it astounding that in one split second his whole life was changed. He had grabbed the bake element with his right hand. He was forever more left handed.
 Hopefully, my boy may read this and once again hear my apology.