We are all safe. I thank God that we are all safe.
My baby is unharmed. I thank God for that, too. I am not unharmed, but I will heal.
Grace is still scared.
My little Pumpkin doesn’t have the understanding to process and explain what she experienced. She’s told me a couple of times that “our red car is broken,” but she’s not said more than that.
If I ask her, Grace says that she remembers the crash, and that she was very scared, but that’s all. I don’t want to keep bringing it up and reminding her. I’m not sure what to do.
Grace is much clingier and much more sensitive than normal. She wants constant physical contact with her daddy and her momma.
I’m not sure that I have the understanding to process what happened, either. Like my baby, I’m a little more weepy and a little more sensitive than normal.
I’ve burst into tears three times today.
My body is healing, but the process is painfully slow. I tried to go to work on Monday, but the pain from my injuries and bruises was unbearable by mid-morning. Since then, I’ve been mostly laying on my couch, attending daily physical therapy sessions, and doing back exercises on the living room floor. I haven’t been back to work.
I’m frustrated with my body. I’m sick of my living room. I’m in pain. I’m scared: of not healing, of missing work, of scarring my baby, of driving, of pain.
I said good bye to my shiny red car. The car I spent months researching and tracking down and haggling over and then buying all on my own. The car that Grace hugged every day after school. The car with the leaky roof and the annoying wheel well. The car with the random household electrical outlet in the dash.
We said hello to a sparkly blue Saturn Vue. I spent about three hours researching new cars before heading to the Saturn dealership and signing the papers.
Grace likes our new car. Every morning, she sees it and squeals “blue car!” She hasn’t hugged it yet, but that will surely come.
When Grace was five months old, I spent three weeks comparing convertible car seats. I checked their crash test scores, read their websites, and found current seast owners. I compared safety standards and comfort features. I settled on the very pricey Britax Marathon, and then I spent another couple of weeks trying to decide which cover would best suit me Gracie.
I figured that a Britax Marathon kept her unharmed in the crash, so another Britax Marathon should replace it. This time around, I had about thirty minutes to find and buy a new car seat so that Grace could come home from day care.
When we picked her up and buckled her into the new seat, Grace scrutinized the new seat and peered curiously at the old seat. She never said a word. She still hasn’t mentioned the new car seat.
We are fortunate. We didn’t have to say good bye to any of our family members.
Our car and car seat have been replaced, but things are not as they were.
We’re not okay, but we will be.
© 2009, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.