We think he’s in cardiac arrest.
Just tell us, is he going to die today?
Yes.
***
The Poo took a spill in the master bathroom tonight. She was fooling around, getting in and out of the tub to amuse her little brother. She darted into the bedroom and I shooed her back to her bath.
I heard a terrible thud, silence and then her cries of pain and fear.
After she settled and I got the boy toweled and dressed, she and I lay in the guest bed to watch her nightly TV show. That’s when she vomited.
***
My friend came to the rescue. Mr. C is in Chicago overnight for work. All I needed to do was Skype her:
Emmie vomited.
Call me.
She arrived at my door in 15 minutes, and told The Poo to be brave for her mama.
***
It’s freezing here, and the car thermometer read 27-degrees. The girl sat in her booster with a plastic bucket in her lap and her stuffed bunny clutched in one hand. She was pale and nervous.
I was, too.
***
The emergency room was crowded. We checked in and waited for our names to be called. Two women sat across from us, weeping into cell phones.
I looked away, not wanting to intrude. The Poo stared at them, their raw emotions sweeping over her.
Baby, I said. Baby, it’s not polite to stare. Those people are sad, that’s all.
The older woman began to keen, her high-pitched screams of grief filling the room with sorrow.
My baby! My baby! My baby is gone!
I closed my eyes and pulled my little one close to me. I love you, I whispered. I love you, I love you, I love you.
***
I remember the feeling. Everyone else melts away. You can’t see anything but the endless days ahead without that beloved person. The absence is sudden, shocking. It is immediate, overwhelming. It is, no matter how much you might expect it, an excruciating surprise.
Five years later, I remember, on a clear, chilly night in Central Illinois. I am a thousand miles away from that place, metaphorically and physically, but the tears of a stranger brought me right back there in a single heartbeat.
I don’t know that woman, but I know some of her pain. And tonight, as I fall into an uneasy sleep next to a little girl with a mild concussion, I pray for her and for her baby.
{ 28 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow… I’m glad to hear she’s doing better. ER visits are never fun. The story you experienced from the sidelines is a clear reminder that no matter how bad things may seem in our lives, someone else is in more pain. For many of us tonight, that was you & the Poo, but your perspective, experiencing that grief from across the room, goes far deeper. Hope the night and the rest of the weekend make a turn for the brighter & sunnier side of life.
Jason´s last blog ..Chocolate for Breakfast with Taza
Sending you warmth… Glad you’re such a good mom to your loves.
Oh sweetie, I am glad she is OK.
And I am sorry for your pain, too many people I know are hurting right now and there is nothing I can do but let you know that I am thinking of you.
Ugh. Sometimes it’s just much too much, isn’t it? Our human capacity for empathy and pain and memory and the weight of things and wretched, vivid worry? Ugh ugh ugh.
I’m glad your sweet girl is okay. I’m sorry for your five year anniversary, and I’ll be thinking about the strangers in the ER.
Beautifully written, my friend.
Maggie, dammit´s last blog ..The tiniest pain
So scary, I’m glad she’s ok.
I was telling my sister this week about your blog. Our dad, at 63, has terminal liver cancer and this year has been an endless waiting game for the next test, the next scan, the next doctor to tell us its 2 more months or 2 more years, and only listening when they say there is hope. I told her I read you because I need to know that I will survive what I feel, at this time, I cannot. I want to know from those that have been this journey before me what I am supposed to do. What I need to do, what I will regret not doing when the time comes. I need to know that I will survive this for my own kids.
And this entry brought me back to two summers ago, long before my dad’s diagnosis (or my own cancer diagnosis as well) as I stood in the ER waiting to be allowed back to the treatment area to go see my injured husband. A girl, a woman really, brought her father in. They had been canoeing together and it tipped. He died. In front of us, in the lobby of this hospital, he died. It was late, there were no social workers at the hospital, and young nurses struggled to know how to contain this girl’s grief as she screamed, over and over again, “My daddy, my daddy! I need my daddy”. Her words, her tone will never leave me – and I hear that same sound in the depths of my soul, and I hear it in your words as well.
God bless you this Christmas Season. Thank you for sharing your heart with me. I really have needed your words during this season of my life.
Jen
Ah, just woke my baby with either the reflexive and too tight snuggle or my tear on her cheek.
Oh, that’s absolutely heartwrenching. I’m glad your little one is okay.
Stimey´s last blog ..The Doodle’s Doppelgänger
That’s terrifying. And heartbreaking. Glad she’s going to be OK.
C @ Kid Things´s last blog ..Seven
Oh, how heartbreaking.
Glad to here your little girl is ok…ER’s are never a good place to be in.
LifeAsIKnowIt´s last blog ..He Claims He " Ran Out Of Room"
I am so glad that The Poo is okay, how scary.
I am so sorry about the emotions that are still raw and festering below the surface. I wish I could say as I near the 6 year anniversary of my dad’s death that this year is the magical year that it all gets better, but I can’t even go into the hospital 5 blocks from my house because as soon as I walk in the smells hit me and bring me back to his bedside that New Year’s Day nearly 6 years ago. Instead we drive nearly 30 minutes to the next hospital that our insurance covers, thankfully we haven’t had to do that often.
much love to you my friend, much love.
Heather from Domestic Extraordinaire´s last blog ..Browns Town
So scary. So heartbreaking.
When JJ had his concussion this past summer, all he wanted to do was sleep. then, while we were driving he started throwing up, and wouldn’t respond when I talked to him, and his eyes were glassy…and I totally though I was losing him. And just the thought, made me almost unable to drive.
Loss is horrible, and empty and I am so glad that your little one will be fine.
Beautiful post.
I am so glad E is okay.
Parenthood is just too frightening for words. And too unfair. So glad all is well with yours…
I’m so glad that she is going to be fine.
I love the word keen. Keening. Isn’t there the tiniest piece of us that is constantly keening?
My own father died twelve years ago on the nineteenth of December, and the period between his last Thanksgiving and that date are always the hardest.
God, my heart. I just cannot take it
flutter´s last blog ..These bones
How scary!! I’m so glad to hear she is okay!
I don’t know how you do it, but you are SO GOOD at capturing the moments in your life so I can feel them too. I’m so glad she’s okay.
Oh, my heart.
The ER is a terrible place to be. For many, many reasons.
Glad your sweet girl is home with you again, and that she has you.
WhyMommy´s last blog ..Life today
I’m glad The Poo is alright. I’m sad for the other woman, and wish she could know that you share her grief. So beautifully written, Mrs. C. *hugs*
Kerrie´s last blog ..Day 141: List-less
I hate ER. Horrible. So glad your baby is OK.
Nan´s last blog ..Homesickness
So glad your daughter is ok. How tragic for the women in the ER with you.
And, I am approaching the same terrible anniversary as you this year. Hugs to you. I miss my dad so much too.
Fairly Odd Mother´s last blog ..Surprised that lightening did not strike me down
Bless you for thinking of those around you hurting when you were so worried too. You have a lovely heart.
Heather´s last blog ..Simply Joy Sunday #47
I’m missing my mom now, missing having her with me to help me through some tough things with my daughter. Illness that we’re hoping to kick in the ass, but nothing is a sure thing and it could go either way and only time will tell and I need my mom right now.
And she’s not here.
J´s last blog ..Feeding the Hungry
I know. Carle, right? They have this room that they put people in when the news is going to be horrible, and unfortunately I’ve been in that room. They let you close the door, at least when it’s not busy.
So glad The Poo is OK.
You have such a way of drawing us in; I could almost feel myself in the seat next to you, witnessing the sorrow of the poor woman who lost her baby.
I will hug my own baby tighter tonight because of this reminder. Hold on, hold on, hold on. Life is like a precious, fragile orchid, and we just never know.
Coco´s last blog ..Where I Open My Whore Mouth
I’m so glad to hear that your little one is OK – I know how terrifying it is to make a dash to the ER in the night. Or any time of day, for that matter.
Regarding the family that you witnessed, my heart just plummeted at their loss. Five years ago, while my triplets were in the NICU, the baby girl in the incubator next to one of my children died. I’ll never forget walking in to the NICU at the same time the family was holding their still newborn and walking out. I think of that baby often and I think of the parents. Especially the mother. I cannot fathom such a devastating loss and pray that I never ever have to.
I wish you strength this holiday season and I hope that you can feel your dad’s love and energy surrounding you, always.
Jen & The Amazing Trips´s last blog ..there is only a dash of whining in this post
I held my breath the entire time I read this … all three times.