There are a million different ways I could write this. A million angles, thoughts, details.
But I want to keep it simple. It needs to be here so that y’all can see where I am coming from, so when I talk about “the crash” or “my baby” it won’t be just a vague reference.
My husband and I were traveling to spend the weekend in a city 1 hour away from our first apartment as a married couple.
The roads were clear even though it was January, it was not quite dark, we were both wide awake. I was 4 months pregnant with my first child.
We came around a bend driving 65 miles an hour-the speed limit- when an equipment truck coming the other way didn’t quite make the turn running first into the semi in front of us and then hitting our little Corolla head on.
I woke up wondering why there was a large metal pole above my head, wondering why my husband kept calling my name, thinking it smelled REALLY bad.
Slowly realization set in. I was in excruciating pain. I couldn’t move. I tried to move my toes to make sure I wasn’t paralyzed but even just that small movement made me scream in pain.
When my husband finally got my door open he leaned in, dripping his own blood all over my favorite sweater and white coat.
I knew then that my baby was gone, he was all I could think about.
Fast forward an unbearable ambulance ride and hour later…
There was a heart beat!! My baby survived! We relished in that miracle for almost two whole days, focusing on my physical recovery, the paperwork, my husband’s scarred face. We did not see what was coming.
Two days later, a wonderful OB friend offered to check the baby, just to make sure everything was ok.
What we saw was a lifeless skeleton. We heard the deafening silence.
“I am sorry about the silence.”
That moment was when I broke. My body, my spirit, my mental capacity to process pain, was all spent. I didn’t notice the pain of the needles anymore, or the broken thumb no one had recognized. I didn’t care that I couldn’t breathe. I felt lifeless.
The next day I delivered a beautiful, fully formed but very much crushed, lifeless baby. We named him Jax.
This is the skeleton of my story. It is the beginning of my mental health journey and the substance of this blog. It is the source of my PTSD and a catalyst for my depression and anxiety. It has changed my life forever.
