Explanations for Hard Lessons

There are no explanations for why some things happen. At least no easy ones. But because my last post was so... odd... for me, I thought that titling this post "Explanations for Hard Lessons" was my best bet. It started Monday evening......

I was throwing dinner together (literally) because I had to be out the door within 20 minutes to get to school on time. I had not previously planned dinner better because I spent the better part of the day curled on the couch wishing to just pass out because I felt so sick. My family was not willing to accept an icky tasteless frozen lasagna. No offense if that is what any of you serve. There is nothing wrong with them, they are just an inappropriate fare in this household of stay-at-home mom and stay-at-home-and-learn-about-life-including-how-to-cook children. Daddy doesn't go for it. Tacos it was....

I had eaten and just finished brushing my teeth and J had come in to kiss me goodbye when our tones went off.... I grabbed my school books while the pager was still beeping and started towards the door, an ear tuned to the speaker, figuring we would do the run quickly and then I would head to school.... The EMT instructor would surely understand that I was late for being on a call...... Then the words came through the pager and started that cut right into my heart: "....Two year old struck by a vehicle and is not breathing...." Any one of those is bad, but to hear all three together is something we pray NEVER happens. At the scene and in the ambulance I felt absolutely helpless but did me best to be of help in every way possible and to not be in the way. And, oh, did I pray. And I wanted so badly to be able to lay my hands on his tiny body and speak life into him. With every press to his chest that my co-worker administered and with every breath of oxygen that I pushed in I asked God to breath life into him, so unwilling to take no as an answer but knowing that without a miracle, this child was gone. We left him in the care of God (he was really already with Him) and the doctors and nurses at the hospital and went outside. There any professionalism I may have been showing started cracking and cracking quickly. I despise crying in front of most people so I did my best to pull it together again, appreciating so much the support of the guys I was with for me and for each other. Every one of the EMT's on our crew has told me "talk about it. You HAVE to talk about this." And I have even had the same support from one of the H City paramedics that responded. For that, I am grateful. It is good to know that I am not taking this hard just because I am a girl.

At home I hugged my children so tight and I lost all shreds of "professionalism" and composure and wept. I desperately needed my husband who was back on the scene keeping the road closed and helping the investigators piece it all together. I contemplated calling my mom but, while shaking like a leaf, told myself that she was needed at her own home with my dad and younger brothers. I wanted very much to hang up on the person who told me right after I returned home that I need to pull myself together, get over it and pray for the family. Pray for the family, check. Pull myself together, check... in a little while. Get over it? Some say you don't ever "get over it". I can still see his tiny body and brown eyes and hear the anguished screams of his family as they were told that this little boy was dead. I am afraid that they are right.... you don't forget. You don't "get over it". But, part of me doesn't want to. I always want to realize how precious life is and how precious my children are. I want you to realize that as well. Without the lesson.

My mom came over yesterday and before she got there, I wanted to curl up on the couch, lay my head on her lap and have her play with my hair like she would when I was younger. When she got here I think I did the "pull myself together" thing again. I don't know why. I don't even think I realized I was doing it until I wanted to crawl right in her lap again the second she left. I did actually sleep last night, though, so that is good. I still woke up thinking about the boy and his family and the driver. Please, keep the family and the driver in your prayers. It was not the driver's fault. There was absolutely NOTHING that he could have done differently. Pray for the little boy's parents. He was in the care of his father at the time... Pray that his dad will not be beating himself up and overwhelmed with guilt. I have taken my two year old niece downtown, had her by my side, turned to push the unlock button and turned back to her to find her RUNNING and half way across the parking lot. It can happen to anyone. There is no blame. Pray for comfort and peace and healing. And hug the people you love. We really truly never know.