I’ve yet to mention, but I have four daughters – ages seventeen, twelve, twelve (yes, twins), and almost ten. Today saw the younger three and myself clearing brush from our property. The youngest, Kate, is always eager to help, so it wasn’t the least bit surprising when she wanted to prune branches with a hand saw like her sisters. With a penchant for being as responsible as she is helpful, I agreed to let her.
Things progressed fine for over an hour when Kate suddenly announced that she had cut her finger. A glance at the finger told me it wasn’t just a nick. I took her in the house and ran her finger under the faucet which revealed two significant cuts. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always calm in a crisis, but that’s when the way forward isn’t clear. The action needed here was clear. After a brief moment’s hesitation, the decision was made to take her to the emergency room.
I tried to play it down, especially since I knew stitches were in her future, but Kate’s anxiety went through the roof once she learned we were headed to the hospital. I held her hand, talked to her in soothing tones, and generally tried to keep her mind off things. The admission process was quickly navigated and we were taken to our room.
Our small town hospital provides quick service and our doctor visited and had a plan of action within a few moments. While all the adults in the room knew that stitches were coming, Kate still wasn’t in the know, but she was still quite anxious. When talk in the room turned to giving her a shot to numb the pain, Kate began to sob uncontrollably. As her father, it was time to move to action.
I grabbed her hand.
Parenting four daughters isn’t easy nor is it fun. It’s challenge after challenge where you’re called upon to have the right answers or do the right thing. I’ll be the first to tell you – quite often I miss the mark when it comes to parenting. Even more often, I feel completely and totally inadequate.
When I grabbed her hand, Kate turned her head to look at me. While the emotions on her face changed to fear and pain and anxiety, they always came back to one emotion. Her eyes met mine with a deep emotion I had never seen before. Her gaze pierced my soul and made me feel worthy. Recounting the story to Ms. Boss later, she finally put the words to feelings.
“She trusted you. She trusted you completely.”
Kate did well as they put five stitches in her finger. She was joking by the time we were discharged. On the way to lunch afterwards, Kate and I filled Ms. Boss in on what had happened. I handed the phone to Kate so she could say a few things. One of the last things she said – “Dad was a good dad today” – was all I could ever ask for.