It was just a Monday- an “I’d much rather stay in bed” day;
a “how is the weekend already over” day. I decided I would start the week off right
and head to the gym after work before picking up Taylee and Weston from
daycare. The crazy thing is I almost didn’t go – I almost talked myself out of
it. It was a great workout – hopped in the car and headed to daycare. Turning
on to the main street an ambulance flew by, and instantly mommy fear kicked in.
Mommy fear is unexplainable – maybe irrational - but weirdly, usually right. I
immediately talked myself out of it and kept driving. This is what I do; I
worry. Chris doesn’t understand why I can’t ever stop worrying, but no matter
how hard I try little scenarios pop up in my head at all times about a million
different things, realistic or not, and I figure out the best way to handle the
situation and move on. I think it’s my way of trying to always be prepared for
anything – but there was no way to prepare for this; I turned onto the
cul-de-sac to see numerous police cars – mommy fear was back. My mind was racing
with any other possibility – an elderly neighbor was sick, one of the kids had
fallen. I pulled into the driveway, and two police officers walked out of the
house: “Are you Weston’s mom?” and I knew everything they were going to say.
The officers told me that Weston was found unresponsive
during his nap; our daycare provider called 911 and her daughter started CPR,
but he was still unresponsive when he left in the ambulance. That ambulance…
and the nightmare started.
A blur followed – the most slow-motion hurricane you could
ever imagine. I immediately called Chris, who I’m sure broke fifty laws getting
to the hospital and still didn’t know half of what was going on, because I’m
sure that I was talking a hundred miles an hour and his brain couldn’t process
what I was saying; because at that point, I couldn’t process it either. I
honestly don’t even remember what I said. The police officer drove me to the
hospital but said that we needed to leave Taylee with the officers at the
house; so phone call number two was to my dad who, I’m sure, made record time
getting to the house to get Taylee. The ten minutes to get to the hospital took
three hours in my mind – just enough time to go over every possible horrible
scenario I was going to encounter when I walked through those emergency room
doors.
And life’s lessons started.
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