Wild Days

This actually happened a few weeks ago, but I forgot to mention it.

We were swimming at the lake one day and Bergen was showing us his new skill of pulling himself out at the dock, instead of walking around by the wooden steps. Up and down he went. Over and over again.

Next thing we knew, Bergen Hawke was swimming out to Kevin, who thankfully happened to be with us that day, and he said, "Dad, my shirt hurts." Kevin pulled back his swimming shirt and then looked at me. "Uh, Lacey," Kevin said, "We need to get out of the water. I think we need to go to the emergency room."

Bergen had somehow found a nail in the side of the dock and scraped it across his tiny birdcage chest, opening it up like a small zipper.


Bergen never complained about his chest as we waited and he only was worried when he had to be held down and he had to watch the doctor stitch up his chest with what London and Mosely call "fred" because they cannot pronounce "thread". During this time he screamed and screamed. He asked me to sing him his favorite songs and despite my serious tone deaf-ness, I sang my little guy his favorite songs - "Beautiful Boy" and "Lullaby" - while holding his small hand in mine.

One of the nurses holding him said he was really being brave. Bergen said, through his sobs, "I'm not being brave. I'm crying!"

Ten days later Kevin took out his stitches while Bergen was sleeping and the next day Kevin and Bergen had a father/son day in downtown Greenville. They ate pizza and ice cream and went to a special toy store called O.P. Taylor's where Berg picked out this cool sword and shield.

I couldn't really get a photo of his stitches. He only reveals his wound to a select few people decided on a case by case basis.