- 25th April
- 25th April
- 24th January
- 24th January
- 16th December
Tonight, I realized that I greatly underestimate you. You are four, and because you are four, I tend to think that you don’t understand some of what is going on around you or that you do not fully comprehend the weight and importance of certain things…but I am wrong. I also assume that you are young, therefore will not retain a lot of what is happening now. Clearly, I failed to realize that you are part of me…and that means that you soak things up, are inquisitive (much more than an average four year old), and that you retain things far beyond that of which would be expected. I am so very sorry for underestimating you. In doing so, I feel as if I have failed you somehow.
You see, nearly 6 months ago, you and I were in a car accident together. We had spent the day at the pool with a group of friends and we’re on our way to one of their homes for cake and ice cream…because as far as children are concerned, no birthday is complete without cake and ice cream…and it was my birthday. You very much wanted to make sure that your “momma” had cake and ice cream on her birthday. We had just dropped your uncle off at his house and were about 3 miles away when it happened. You and I, in our little Pontiac Vibe, were t-boned by an F-150 right in the drivers door. They were doing 55 mph and we were almost at a stand still.
I saw the truck coming at me and I knew that it was too late…that we were going to be hit. Everything happened so quickly but at the same time we seemed to be moving in slow motion. The sound of screeching tires, breaking glass, crunching metal, and your screams from the backseat. The scent of rubber ground into asphalt and the waning perfume of chlorine from our day in the sun. The overwhelming feeling of fear that choked me because I thought for sure, in that moment, that I was going to die. My senses were overstimulated by everything that was happening in those few seconds but I only had one concern, and that was you.
As soon as I realized I was still alive, I remember unclenching my hands from the steering wheel and turning around to see you. You said that your shoulder hurt, but you were ok…until you looked at me and then you looked terrified. You cried and cried and kept telling me I was bloody and asking if I was okay. I told you that I would be fine and that help was on the way to get us out of the car.
An older couple had pulled over to call for help and check on us and the wife opened your door and was checking to see how you were. She tried to console you while you screamed for me but you just wanted your mommy…and I couldn’t move. I felt paralyzed. By fear. By the car. By shock. I kept turning and looking at you in the back seat of our car, that was broken and mangled, and I just wanted to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be fine but you were out of reach and I never felt so helpless in my life.
Within minutes I could hear sirens and then the police were there. A couple minutes behind them were the ambulances. Once I realized help was there and that you were being taken care of, it was like I could breathe and I took a moment to take a look at myself and the car. I had blood all over my arms and hands and I realized that I couldn’t move my legs. When I tried to move my legs, it hurt, and I had a lot of pain coming from my lower back. I remember the EMT’s taking you from the car once they realized that you weren’t badly injured and then they put a blanket over my head while they cut the roof off of the car so they could pull me out. Under that blanket was like my own personal hell. I could hear the sound of the saws and the metal being broken, glass shattering, the fireman peeling back the roof of my car, and you screaming. You were terrified. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear in your voice that day or think of that moment without getting a lump in my throat.
Once they had me in an ambulance, it was decided that you and I were going to have to go to separate hospitals because the closest hospital didn’t have a pediatric trauma unit and they didn’t want to transport me any further since they weren’t sure what my injuries were. I was so thankful that my mom had called and the older couple that stopped to help us had answered because she showed up right away and I knew that you weren’t alone. Oh my god, you have no idea how badly I didn’t want to be separated from you at that moment. I desperately wanted to just hold my baby girl.
The first three hours in the hospital were excruciating. Cat scans and x-rays and poking and prodding. And every time they moved me I thought I would die from the pain. I think that giving birth to you was less painful than being moved that night. When they weren’t shifting me around, I was strapped to a bed and couldn’t move. I laid there for hours upon hours watching the minutes tick by, upside down, on the clock on the wall above my head. Trembling with shock and adrenaline, visitors and doctors coming and going, and thoughts of what was happening to you filling my mind.
I couldn’t rest until I knew that you were ok and that you were with your daddy. You had a bruised shoulder from the seat belt, but you were fine. Me? My pelvis was broken in 4 spots and I looked like I’d been through war based on the bruises and cuts, but we were both going to be fine…and that was all that mattered to me.
Tonight when we got into the car, I turned on the radio and Katy Perry’s song “Last Friday Night” came on. You said to me “this is the accident song, Momma.” I asked what you were talking about and you responded with “this is the song that was playing on the radio when we got into the accident.” For a brief moment, it all came flooding back to me…I could hear the tires screeching and the metal crunching and you screaming, but this time, it had a soundtrack. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck again. I wish that I could take that incident away and give you a better memory to associate with that song, but I’m glad that we are both okay.
- 14th December
Sweet daughter of mine,
giant puddles for brown eyes,
take everything in.
- 11th December
Meadow Beautiful, Curious Loving, Growing, Changing My sweet little girl Daughter
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