[Parenting] How many more times will my heart skip a beat?

My son had to get stitches just above his forehead.

Apparently, he was playing too hard at daycare and bumped his head on the corner of a piece of playground equipment.

I had often heard that 'boys will be boys' when it comes to injuries, but this was the first time he had an injury that required stitches.

My daughter had never had such a serious injury before.

Of course, you can't just lump everything together by gender, but I wonder if this is what they call a 'typical boy thing'.

Perhaps that phase has finally arrived in our home as well.

Thinking that made my heart feel like it was shrinking.

I received a call from the daycare while I was at work.

He was fine in the morning, so I wondered if he had come down with a fever.
I answered the phone while internally worrying about my work.

It turned out it wasn't a fever, but an injury.

My son had been playing hide-and-seek and was hiding in the corner of the playground equipment to avoid being found, and just as he was about to come out, he bumped his head on the corner.

"The wound is small, but it looks quite deep, so we would like to take him to a hospital. Do you have a regular plastic surgeon?"

A plastic surgeon.

I had never been to one, nor had I ever looked one up.
My mind went blank for a moment at the sudden mention of that word.

I decided to let the daycare find a hospital for now, told my workplace about the situation, and contacted my husband.

A while later, I was informed that they had decided to go to a hospital at the next station.

They asked me to accompany him since treatment might be necessary, so I hurried to the daycare and met my son.

I thought he might cry when he saw my face, but he didn't; perhaps from the shock of the injury, he was just staring blankly.

That silence, so unlike my usual chatty son, actually pierced my heart.

After hearing the story from the teacher and the nurse, we took a taxi to the hospital, and after the examination, they said the wound itself was small.

However, the head bleeds easily, and even if it had stopped for now, it might start bleeding again later.

Furthermore, a long weekend was coming up.

"Just to be safe, it would be better to stitch it up."

The moment they said that, I thought, 'Oh, he really is getting stitches.'
My heart ached at the sight of my son crying softly in anxiety.
But I couldn't show him my anxious face.

"Let's just do our best now so it heals quickly."

That was all I could say to him.

When we entered the treatment room, my son was wrapped in a towel so he wouldn't struggle and was laid on the bed.

"Are you someone who can watch the procedure?"

I think they were asking if I could handle watching the treatment.

"That's a bit..."

I answered that instinctively, but I felt it wasn't right for me to keep looking away while my son was doing his best, so I held his hand and watched the procedure from time to time.

My son didn't raise his voice or struggle; he just cried quietly.

The doctor's procedure was very quick and finished in about 10 minutes.
The doctor and nurses were surprised that my son had received the treatment so quietly.

"You're amazing."
"You really did your best."

Every time they said that, I felt more like crying than my son did.

My son, who had been in a daze for a while after the treatment, was able to chat with the teacher who accompanied us as time passed, and by the time we left, his expression had softened considerably.

And on the way home.

"It was like going on an outing, riding in a taxi with the teacher!"

He said that.

I couldn't help but laugh at a remark I wouldn't expect from someone who had just had his forehead stitched up.
I wonder who he inherited this mental toughness from.

That said, I think this injury is surely just the prologue.

From here on out, he'll fall, bump into things...
If he ever joins a sports club, there will likely be even more moments that make my heart skip a beat.
I might feel like my heart is being squeezed every time that happens.

As children grow, they can do more things, but it also means there are more places where a parent's eyes cannot reach.

I'm happy.
But I'm scared.

I want him to be healthy.
But I also worry when he's too energetic.

Being a parent is such a selfish and busy thing.

Even so, seeing my son laugh on the way home and say, 'It was like an outing,' made me feel a little saved.

I hope that any future injuries will be as minor as possible.

And I hope my heart will also become just a little bit stronger.