I have a confession, I have often used you, my readers…and this blog
as a catharsis… But I think of you each as friends. Each.
Let me use you one more time please to tell my story.
So I can breathe. So I can stop crying.
This week I drove with my youngest for a University interview and tour
We were driving in her small Mazda…. She dutifully stopped at a stop sign.
She looked both ways,
Then proceeded to drive straight into the path of an oncoming SUV… going 60 mph.
I saw it. Time stopped. I yelled NOOO. Put my hand out…
in the way mothers do.
Heard it. Couldn’t stop it.
I awoke to the acrid smell of smoke…looked over to see my baby. My beautiful girl lying slumped…eyes opened. Broken.
Mama hormones and Mama love are the most fierce …most impassioned kind of strength.
I witness this, often, at a birth.
I know this. YOU know this. You Mothers. You sons and daughters.
The car was on fire (or so I thought)… I wailed for my baby to live. held her, shook her,pulled her seatbelt off and mine .
she finally looked at me. My beautiful curly haired morning star
who was only going to be 17 next week.
and whispered faintly
I am ok
With a speed and strength of what I can only imagine as pure adrenaline , I pulled myself out of the turquoise burning coffin, and over to her door. There was no handle…it was not opening. There wasn’t really a door.
I couldn’t see out of one eye….thought maybe I had lost half of my face… I lost a shoe…I saw blood.
I demanded in that way that mothers do my curly haired child to follow me.
she pushed I pulled her over the console.
We chanted the mantra we are ok…we are ok the whole time.
Thank goodness she didn’t have a spine injury. I know not to move accident victims. I know this .
But the ferocity in me demanded it.
Ferocious, that mother love, that has us dispel rules in the name of survival.
Ambulances, and trauma centers, cat scans a few days in a hospital bed... and a few staples in our heads later.
we are ok
we are ok
we are ok.