About a year ago, on Memorial Day weekend, my husband went out to grab takeout for dinner. He left me home to put our two sons to bed and just like any other evening when I don't feel like cooking, he drove off to grab our food.
I remember it was late in the evening, around 9pm. I was sitting in the top bunk with my 5 year old snuggling with him until he fell asleep and then I heard a loud CRASH! It startled me for a second and I immediately knew it was a car accident. Our small, quiet neighborhood doesn't get much action so when something is going on in the quiet of the evening, you can hear it. My littlest son asked me, "w
hat's that noise mommy?" and I told him, I think that was a car accident. IMMEDIATELY, fear came over me and I thought to myself, call Chimere (my husband). So I do, I call him once... no answer... A second time, no answer, a third time.... no answer. And now, I am in full on panic mode! So I go and peak out the window to see if I can see the accident but I couldn't; it was on the other end of the street.
As a parent, you try so hard to shield your kids from all kinds of trauma and protect them from scary things, so I did my best to hide my fear because I didn't want to scare my kids. After a few minutes, when I thought they were sound a sleep, I go downstairs to step outside and get a look at the situation. Now, I am not your nosey-neighbor-type but something in me kept saying, go see what happened. Once I got downstairs, opened the door and walked to the end of my walkway (barefoot and in my pjs)... I still couldn't see the accident but I did see people gathered at the corner down the street from my house. I remember thinking to myself, "I hope the person is ok..." "I hope someone called an ambulance."
So, I go back inside and call my husband again.... no answer. Something kept telling me, go down the street and see what happened... I was torn because I didn't want to leave my kids alone in the house but something kept drawing me to this accident. So, once I am back inside, I throw on some flip flops and a light jacket to cover my pjs. As soon as I opened my front door to go down the street, two women, breathless, running down the street saying where's 153.... When I heard them and met them at the walkway, I knew instantly and I screamed "IT"S MY HUSBAND!!!" I take off running down the street to the worst scene I have ever seen and I. Completely. Lost. It.
The car was mangled against a tree, street signs were down, air bags were deployed, the exhaust pipe popped off from under the SUV and was catapulted across the street in to a neighbor's yard... there was glass and oil everywhere. And yet, as I scanned the scene, dazed, bloody, shoes in his hand, but standing.... there was my husband. All I could do was cry! I cried because he just went through something so crazy. I cried because I knew he was injured. I cried because I was grateful he was a live. I was overcome with so many emotions that all I could do was cry.
Completely beside myself, my husband was trying to calm me down... telling me he was ok and ensuring me that I could go home and focus on the kids. God bless him but what a horrible and stressful dilemma.... In that moment, I had to chose, my husband or my kids. Thankfully, one of my neighbors ran down to my house to make sure the kids were ok. I stayed there, trying to get answers. Listening to the neighbors all recount what they saw. Within a few minutes, my neighbors came to get me because my youngest woke up looking for me and saw strangers in the house so he began to cry. I had to leave my husband to go settle my kids and that broke my heart into pieces.
My husband survived after being hospitalized for a broken back, cracked ribs, contusions and some rips on his arms from being pulled from the car. He has overcome the physical and hopefully, the emotional trauma of what occurred that night. But as I relive this moment, there are several things about overcoming tragedy that comes to my mind:
While the victim of ANY tragedy needs the love, support and resources to overcome; don't forget about those in the periphery who are also impacted. The spouse, child(ren), parents, etc. When I tell you I have never felt so internally conflicted where both my roles of mother and wife were equally required at the same time yet choosing one meant sacrificing the other. It broke me to have to walk away from my bleeding husband to put on a brave face for my kids. I didn't want to scare them but I was screaming on the inside; cool as a cucumber (in front of them) on the outside.
Honesty is important! At times when you're the supporter, you focus on being strong for the other person. And if you're anything like me (a fixer), you are focused on making sure the person is comfortable, has food, is taking their meds, that the kids don't dive him crazy while he's recovering.... It's easy to not address how you, the caregiver, the one in the periphery, how are you feeling? You have to be honest with yourself about your fears and trauma and find the right outlets to express that so that you can heal as well
Call on your village! By the time I was able to get my mind right, I called another couple who are like family to us and asked for their help. I asked the husband to come to the scene of the accident to be with my husband since I had to be with the kids and the wife came to my house to get the boys for a "sleep over" with her kids so that I could go and be in the hospital with my husband. It's SO crazy that in the midst of sheer trauma, you still have to think strategically and problem solve. If it weren't for my village, I wouldn't have been able to pull it together.
Prayer and time heals all wounds. Man.... I never prayed and cried so hard in my life! I sat in my living room sobbing while I waited for our friends to arrive, I begged God to spare my husbands life and that the damage wouldn't be too bad. Even when I was on my way to the hospital, I prayed. When he was out of the hospital and in recovery, I prayed. And even now, when he leaves the house to go for a quick drive... I pray. Those wounds cut deep. While, I have learned that with time, wounds heal... They may not heal perfectly, and may never be back to their prior state... but they do, in fact, heal.
Everyone goes through traumatic situations in their lives. Unfortunately, we have to embrace it. Embrace that what may be tragic to me, might me easy for others. We all have our own path of life and race to run. However, the ability to overcome is something we all need.
I hope sharing my story helps you in some way to overcome something you are dealing with... I know it helped me to be able to share it.
Peace and love,
Ayanna
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