Back in 2009, I found myself outside a hotel with my two-year-old son, Alex, who was mesmerized by a flowerbed. The sprinklers were on, and naturally, he wanted to get up close and personal with the water. I gently reminded him that it was time to head inside. As I held his hand, he suddenly went limp—his signature move whenever I tried to wrangle him. That’s when I heard a pop.
At that moment, my heart sank. A toddler’s joints, especially their elbows, can be as unpredictable as a loose shoelace, and when Alex screamed in pain with his arm dangling at his side, I panicked. We were in southern Utah, attending a Shakespeare festival with my in-laws, and I was just trying to keep Alex quiet so my partner, Lisa, could catch some Z’s.
At the tender age of 24 and still getting the hang of fatherhood, I assumed the worst. Up until that point, Alex had seemed indestructible—always falling down and bouncing back up. But now, my mind raced with images of parental failure. Before Alex was born, I was bombarded with horror stories of accidents that befell children due to simple mistakes made by well-meaning parents. My past wasn’t exactly a shining example of responsibility, so the idea of being a parent felt like I was walking a tightrope over a pit of alligators.
Outside, I gazed at my little boy, tears streaming down his face, his arm limp. The anxiety surged through me. As I cradled him and carried him inside, I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world. When Lisa saw him, he tried to lift his left arm, and I could see he wanted to use both arms, but the pain was too great. It tore at my heart; he was just so small and sweet, and I didn’t know how to make it better.
“What happened?” Lisa asked.
I recounted the limp hand incident and the ominous pop, convinced I had broken him. “I honestly don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Do you think it will just fix itself?”
In hindsight, the answer was clear: a visit to the doctor. But as a young dad with barely any healthcare coverage, I was worried about the costs of an out-of-network visit and afraid that the doctors might not believe my story. My mind ran wild with paranoid scenarios.
As I was drowning in a sea of worry, Lisa, ever the voice of reason, held Alex until he calmed down. Then she suggested, “Let’s call a nurse.”
“Wait, we can do that?” I asked, feeling like I had missed some essential parenting memo.
“Of course,” she replied, as if I had been living under a rock all this time. I dialed the number on the back of our insurance card and explained the situation. To my surprise, Alex began to stomp around the room, showing signs of life while still cradling his limp arm. The nurse calmly informed me that what likely happened was a case of Nursemaid’s elbow—a common toddler injury caused by a partial dislocation of the elbow.
“Don’t worry, it happens all the time. You’ll need to take him to urgent care, and they can pop it back in,” she said.
Little did I know, this injury would become part of our family routine, occurring multiple times—like a punch card for doctor visits. Whether he went limp while holding my hand, tripped, or rolled over oddly, it would always require a doctor’s visit to pop that elbow back into place.
As the nurse gave me directions to the nearest urgent care, Alex stumbled over my foot and fell on his shoulder, prompting more tears. I paused the call, and after Lisa picked him up, he miraculously used his right arm again. “Looks like he popped it back in,” the nurse exclaimed, sounding relieved.
In that moment, I felt a mix of relief and embarrassment. I couldn’t help but share my worries with the nurse. “This is so embarrassing. I feel like a terrible parent. I’m trying, I love him. Am I doing something wrong?”
With a reassuring laugh, she said something that stuck with me: “I’ve been a parent for a long time and talk to a lot of nervous ones. Taking care of little kids isn’t easy. They bounce around like balls, and you can do your best to catch them, but they still get hurt. Your concern shows you care, and that’s what matters.”
It was a moment of clarity, and it made me misty-eyed. “Thank you, I needed to hear that,” I replied. Maybe you do too.
If you’re curious about more parenting tips, check out our other post on Nursemaid’s elbow or explore the At Home Insemination Kit for more information on family planning. Also, for an excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, visit Progyny’s blog.
In summary, accidents happen, and they don’t define your abilities as a parent. Nursemaid’s elbow is a common issue, and the important thing is to stay calm, seek help when needed, and remember that you’re doing your best.