Wabi

CrossFit and kids.....LOVE the idea that our little mini mes are seeing us taking care of our bodies, valuing our health and living a life of fitness.  But what happens when the gym becomes a dangerous place to be?

It was just under a week ago that W and I had our first CrossFit related should'a, could'a, would'a parental moment.  Up until now our children's interactions with all things fitness had been relatively positive.  It all happened during a normal weekend morning at the gym.  She should'a been wearing her shoes, I could'a told her to leave the weights alone, If I just would'a taught her how to be more careful when she was around the equipment.

It was one of those accidents that could have been prevented.  One of those moments that you wish you had just done something, anything, differently.  A day that ended with regret and guilt.   Our little lady was lucky, she wasn't hurt as seriously as she could have been.   It literally happened within a split second; J Dawg, ironically, stubbed his toe, his older sister came over to see if he was OK, she leaned against the plate rack and dropped a 10 lbs metal plate square on the big toe of her right foot.  I was busy consoling the little man and her dad was across the room packing up our bags.  It was the blood curdling scream that came next that drew attention of the remaining gym goers as they gathered up their belongings to head home.  It was Fancy Nancy who got to her first and scooped up my hysterically screaming child and carried her straight to the bathroom.  The blood gushed, M wailed and I did not realize the severity of the injury until W pronounced:  "We need to take her in to the hospital." I didn't know how bad it was.  I never saw it.  By the time she was in my arms and we were rushing to the truck her foot was wrapped haphazardly in a grey gym rag that was quickly getting spotted with dark red blood.  Sitting squished between two booster seats in the back I held her foot as she incoherently babbled about the pain and W sped us to the emergency room.  We were quickly checked in and then we waited.  I still hadn't seen the damage that the weight had caused.   And when we finally were given a bed in minor treatment and the nurse removed the rag, it became apparent that this was not going to be a simple bandage and go type job. 

It was during our wait that little Miss M showed her true colours in the face of such an upsetting moment; her strength, her big heart, her brave resolve and even a little of her developing sense of humour.   After receiving three painful needles that froze her foot, she got the thrill of her first ride in a wheel chair and an x ray to determine the damage done to the bones of her toe.  It was determined that there was no major break but our little lady was to permanently lose her toe nail.  The weight had hit her foot in such a way that it basically "blew up" her toe , causing the root of the nail to come loose and gashing her skin so deep it was close to the bone.  After all was said and done they extracted the nail, stitched her up, gave an antibiotic and hefty bandage and sent us on our way.

Since we left the hospital my mind has been on the lost nail, vain yes, but it is true.  The young EMT student that took M's vitals when we first checked in called it her "wabi".  A Japanese word for a characteristic that makes us beautifully unique.  Sometimes translated as flawed beauty.  He said his was his nose, now Morgs is her big nail-less toe and I guess mine would be my cleft lip scar.  Wabi. 

As an adult we tend to embrace and celebrate what makes us different and unique.  But as many of us can recall that isn't always the case.  As young children and teenagers it is not as easy to accept our physical idiosyncrasies, it can sometimes be a challenge to covet our "wabi".  It wasn't until my early 20s that I realized I had finally made peace with mine.  During my University graduation photo shoot the photographer was showing me my proofs, he suggested that we airbrush out my scar on my lip.  I was offended, how would my face look if I didn't have my scar? I had always had my scar, its part of who I was. I had a cleft lip, a genetic abnormality that changed the shape of my face.   Sure airbrush the hell out of my adult on set acne but my scar? No way.  It is how I look, its a tell of what I have been through.  Kids are mean and any kind of difference seems to be fair game so I was bullied, mocked and teased, because of my lip. But it wasn't until that point years later that I felt protective and proud of what made me, me.  And just like that without realizing it I had accepted something that haunted me throughout my teen years.

I wouldn't mind if she brought
him home for Christmas:)

Looking back as a 30 year old adult I know that it has to do with a bully's own insecurities, about them wanting to fit in, and creating feelings of superiority because of their own inferiority.  But as a young woman it was devastating and hard to understand why I was being picked on.  This is what I worry for my own daughter.  Did my negligence during a routine day at the gym set in motion a chain of events that might alter how she and others see her? Will others notice her "abnormal" toe? Will they care? Will she care? Did she inherit my own thin skin? Or will she believe in herself and in me and her dad when we say it is just one more thing we love about her?  Will she embrace her wabi?

She is quickly getting back to her normal self, even forgetting the cumbersome bandage that marks her injured foot as she chases her brother around the house.  As of right now the lost toe nail seems to be of little concern.  And I wonder if it will ever really matter especially when you are as tough as a million toe nails like she is?