Post Trauma…Is Traumatic.
I’ve been suffering, silently, for going on eight months…I guess. And, I’ve needed and wanted to write about it. But, I’ve been afraid. Mostly, I’ve been afraid of the emotions that come flooding back to me when I think, talk or picture the experiences that led up to this day.
Actually, I don’t know when it started. But, I finally said something last week to Mr. B and my Momma. This suffering stems from an accident, on July 19, that involved my 7-year-old son.
Bubs was in a golf cart accident with his grandfather. The 800-pound cart, fell on a 45-pound baby and drug him on concrete for quite a distance. Bubs was air-cared to the local Children’s Hospital. And I, well I was 39 weeks pregnant. And, I fell when I saw him. Literally.
I fell because my son, my first born and my best friend was trapped. Under a machine. He was covered in blood from “road rash” and he was broken. everywhere. He suffered with a dislocated hip, broken femur, butterfly fractured femur, crush-fracture of his foot, dislocated toes, puncture wounds and road rash all over his body and a removed quadriceps muscle. When I stood from falling, there he was, screaming for help and frantically searching for his mommy. And my heart couldn’t take it. It was broken.
In that instant I was changed. Forever. I can’t forget the pain of driving to the scene. The soul crushing fear that flooded through my body the way I imagine Hurricane Katrina taking over New Orleans. Imagine it engulfing your body with no hope or relief in sight. The fear and pain took me to a place that had not existed prior to this accident. And now I can’t seem to find my way out of it.
I still remember the scene, like it was a dream. There were people rushing all around me, ambulances screaming to the scene, a helicopter circling overhead, paramedics asking questions…about him…and about me, paramedics taking blood pressure, police officers begging me to go to the hospital. I was swarmed but still felt invisible. All I wanted to do was go back in time. Just 20 minutes earlier. To make this moment disappear. All I could think about was this “never happening” and how it “couldn’t be happening” to us.
I am ashamed to admit…but, I didn’t care about the baby inside of me in that moment. Because the boy who had my heart first was seriously hurt. More serious than I even knew or wanted to know in that moment. More serious than anyone was willing to “tell the pregnant mom.” It was hard for me to consider the unborn child. I “knew” right where she was and I “knew” she was okay. All I knew was I heard words like “internal bleeding”, “head trauma,” “internal damage” and “spinal cord injuries” being thrown around…regarding my baby. MY baby. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience.
I still remember the paramedic who took me to the hospital. His attempts at consoling me, while my son flew overhead, were heroic. He was kind and gentle and was a true professional. There are no words that can describe these moments. No words created by man that can put your thoughts and fears on paper to describe the instant you think you may lose your child. It’s a pain like I’ve never known. A pain that was sharp and reckless and it had no concern for me or the perfect family I had built.
And now, it has been replaced with fear.
As I sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for his six hour surgery to be complete, and cried. I cried for my unborn baby, who would be born into a world interrupted. I cried for me. Because I was afraid and exhausted and broken-hearted. But mostly, I cried for my baby boy. Because I didn’t know what the future held anymore. 10 hours prior, I knew. And now my world was crashing in around me. I couldn’t breath.
See, Bubs and I started on this journey alone. Mr. B was our answered prayer that came four years later. For four years it was just us…and nothing will ever match those four years for our small family. Nothing will ever match the bond we built. He is my best friend. My confidant. My companion.
I am suffering silently with Post Traumatic Stress. I am struggling every.single.day with constant fear and irrational thoughts. I become overwhelmed with illusions, memories and possibilities…which all hold me back from living. These fears consume everything I do. Everything I let my family do. And, they consume every thought I have. I catch myself living in a world of “what-ifs” rather than just living and loving life. (Loving the life that God so graciously spared last summer.)
And, even with Bubs upstairs sleeping in his bed. Even if we made it through 12 weeks in a wheel chair and two weeks in a walker and one week of God-fearin’, earth rattling pain and torture…I still can’t shake the memory.
I still live in fear of losing someone. And not just Bubs now… Mr. B, Bubette, my mom, dad, step-dad, cousins, aunts…it is growing. And, for that reason, I have decided to talk to someone who knows more about this than I do. A professional….which makes me feel like a nut job.
Because prior to July 19, I lived in a beautiful world where horrible things happen “to other people.” and now…well, I can’t help but think that those horrible things “could happen to me.”
…because they did.
And I can’t seem to find my old self again.
34 comments
Wow. That must have been so terribly tramatic – I’m so glad you’re getting help. You’re in my thoughts.
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Oh hun, I couldn’t imagine going through that! You are amazing. ::hugs::
xoxo
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I know that feeling. When my daughter was born with such severe congenital heart defects they thought she’d need a transplant, and then when her heart stopped the next day and they didn’t expect her to survive the day, and then when she needed 12 hours of open-heart surgery at 3 weeks old…. I learned that it CAN happen to me. And it’s tough not to live in fear of the next shoe dropping, especially since I’m also convinced it’s a millipede with an infinite number of shoes to drop.
Counseling and antidepressants have helped. I hope that you can find help too. You aren’t a nut job — you have a very good reason to be freaked out and it isn’t weakness to recognize you need help and to go get it. Good for you.
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oh sweetheart, my heart is broken for you. I can’t image the pain you are going threw, I worry everyday about my little ones just skinning their knees, I just can’t imagine. I said a prayer for you after i read this. wish I could give you a hug, just know I’m sending one now. I know you don’t know me but as a fellow mom we have a sort of bond.
You’re NOT crazy, you are a loving wonderful mom who wants the best for her kids. Keep strong, and I’ll be praying.
<3 Erica
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My heart was breaking for you as I read this. I cannot even begin to imagine what you must have felt like in those moments. Seeking help doesn’t make you a nut job. A nut job wouldn’t recognize that they need the help. You are a strong woman.
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[...] still seeing the therapist for Post Traumatic Stress (if you don’t know why, read this) but I am also seeing a Crystal therapist as well, every other week. (I can’t even begin to [...]
Hi. I just read your story and I feel for you. My husband was in a horseback riding accident when he was 8 years old. The horse bucked him off, trampled, and drug him. He lost 1/2 his face as a result of the accident. He had to have ongoing plastic surgery as he grew and has a prosthetic eye. I don’t know how he or his parents lived through all that. But, I’ll tell you that they are the strongest family I know and they share such a deep love for one another because of all they have been through. My husband, too, shows so much character and depth because of his experience. I hope that this experience will only make you stronger in the end, and that your family, too, will be closer. Big hugs.
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The last thing in the world you are is a nutjob. Nutjobs don’t reach out for help! You are a STRONG, amazing woman who has been through hell. We all need help sometimes to sort out our feelings. Take the help and heal. That way you can enjoy every precious moment you have with your children! ((((Hugs))))
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I am just getting to know you through your blog-you are amazing and “real”. I too have those moments of fear. After my beautiful niece passed away in her sleep, from an undetected brain tumor-she was in the ER just hours before she died. They sent her home with pain meds for her headache. My panic came when my own teenage daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor-totally different from my niece, but, still. A brain tumor. Now at 20, she lives 5 hours away-I can’t sneak in and check on her. I am in constant fear over EVERYTHING with her. Sorry for taking up so much space here, and thanks for letting me vent.
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Oh my goodness. What an absolutely terrifing moment that must have been. I can’t even wrap my head around it. I’m sorry that that happened to your little boy, but I am so glad that he is ok. You are so strong to be able to be there for him even though you feel so broken. I applaude you seeking help. You aren’t a “nut job”!
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I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. I think, until you are a parent, you don’t really “get” what it would be like to have something happen to your baby. And even as a parent, I cannot fully understand what you are going through.
I have no doubt that I would have reacted the same way. Please know that you should feel no shame for feeling this way, and getting help was the right thing to do. We don’t want to admit that something is wrong, but by sharing your story, you will inspire others to seek help when they need it.
Give both your boys a hug for me, and I’ll give Adam an extra one when I get home.
(btw, came over from Beyer Beware.)
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You’re an amazing woman.
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I’m speechless. Wow.
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wow honey. I would be suffering from ptsd as well. you are strong. I am so so soooooooooo happy bubs is OK now. xoxoxoxoxxo
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I am literally crying as I read that. I have suffered from PTSD involving my eldest son as well. I so know where you are coming from. God bless.
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so sorry u know i didnt mean anything please forgive me
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I just want to reach through the computer and give you a hug! I am so sorry you had to experience something so awful. Post traumatic stress is hard enough before involving our children. (hugs) to you.
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So frightening. Thanks for pouring your heart out. Reminds us that life is fleeting and we must remember to cherish every moment we have with our babies. Glad you're getting the help you need.
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many prayers of peace to you from a new reader who knows all too well the trials and tribulations of ptsd. i'm not sure where you are yet…but one thing is for sure…it gets better, and better, and better. xo
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[...] still seeing the therapist for Post Traumatic Stress (if you don’t know why, read this) but I am also seeing a Crystal therapist as well, every other week. (I can’t even begin to [...]
THANK YOU so very much for sharing your story. Reading it was strangely refreshing, in that I no longer feel alone. A similar situation, involving my then seven week old son, happened to me. Or should I say us (the entire family). He will be two in less than a month and still I find myself struggling to deal. It has become exhausting and debilitating. But again, I say thank you!
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That's brutal. I already have a hard enough time going to sleep at night because of my overactive imagination. To have real memories and experiences to fill in the blanks would be overwhelming. I'm glad you're no longer suffering in silence.
My mom died last summer, and I think it was the thing that put me over into that real place of "everyone dies" and "bad stuff can happen to me." To some extent, I'd always been waiting for the other shoe to drop — for that "bad" thing to happen. And of course I knew life was impermanent. But when you finally experience it, it makes a difference. Anyway, I'm glad you're all "okay." Take care.
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I've been going through your archives, and all I can say is WOW. Tiffany, you have really been through the wringer. You are one strong woman to have gotten through all this intact, to have reached out and said, "I need some help, here!"
Wow.
I need some Kleenex.
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Wow, I'm not a mom yet, but this story absolutely hurt my heart. I'm so sorry you had to through this. Like the person before me said, you are definitely a strong woman, and mother for both of your kids. I'm so glad he's fine today, that picture of your kids is absolutely priceless and he's got that twinkle in his eyes like nothing ever happened. Keep on keeping on girlfriend.
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How wow Tiffany. I am just reading this now and learning your whole story. As a parent I have an understanding of what you must have been through…but I can’t, can’t imagine it.
All the things I want to talk to you about I can’t fit on this comment…so I will email you again…
I love your honesty and your writing. You had me in tears! I think you should be so proud of yourself for all of this!
City Mom recently posted..Will You Be Working on That This Weekend
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What an ordeal to endure. You are not a nut job, you are human. Losing a child is unimaginable, and to be faced with that real possibility would change and affect anyone. Good for you for seeking help and recognizing the need for additional support. I’m so glad that your son is ok.
Nicole@MTDLBlog recently posted..Won’t YOU Stand Up
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Oh, Tiffany! I could barely breathe reading this. I don’t think anyone can fully understand the depth of that fear unless they’ve experienced it. I’ve been on the outer rings of it, just close enough to be constantly looking over my shoulder…I can’t even come up with the words…You are so incredible. To be able to ask for help when you need it is a show of strength. No one in there right mind would expect you to get through such an ordeal unscathed! ((hugs)) to you
Mommylebron recently posted..Writer’s Workshop- Do Over
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I just found your blog (through ScaryMommy) and I’ve been reading it all morning. Wow…I so understand this feeling. I never came close to losing my children (Yet…and if you don’t count my preterm contractions and bedrest with the twins when I was PG) but I did lose my dad very suddenly and I worry all the time about losing my husband or my mom or even myself, I worry and worry and had been thinking about doing therapy myself to get these images out of my head. I guess I just wonder how much happiness I really deserve ..and that takes me to a really yucky place.
you’re a beautiful writer, I like your blog very much and would like to follow if that is ok. I am so glad that your little boy is ok and that you are too.
Kir
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I am reading your “best of 2010″ and I found the blog about your sons accident. I never put a title to it but I had (and continue to have) simular thoughts & feelings. The “what ifs” consumed me. My 16 yr old daughter (now almost 25) was in a head on collision only 3 weeks after she started driving. Everything changed…. watching your baby transported to a waiting helicopter is undescribable – sadly you know this. Taryn is fine, I am fine, but everyday for the past eight+ years I have to hear her voice. I need to know that she is safe so that I can be whole.
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Wow – that is all I can come up with. I can. not. even. imagine. And yet you lived it. Are living it.
I am in awe of you and your strength to get through this and come out on the other side. I am in awe of the strength that it must have taken to ask for help. I am in awe of you and Bubs and Mr. B and your whole family. Just WOW.
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Wow! I’m so sorry and grateful for what you have gone through! I’m not trying to sound awful or unsympathetic but I know that made you stronger then even you know at this point. I couldn’t imagine going through that with neither of my kids. And I know I sufffer from this also. And nothing has even happend to me and hopefully doesn’t. I think about this everyday and night. You see I’m married to a soon-to-be police officer. And even though we live in a podunk town in the Texas panhandle… things happen. I know exactly what you are suffering with. I hope you find peace and comfort with a professional and BTW you are NOT a NUT JOB…. but I think I am…
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SO sorry you had to go through this ordeal – and pregnant at that time!! PTSD heals with time and I hope that time will come soon for you. Thank God you still have your beautiful son right now.
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[...] up about my adorable yet borderline ditzy husband {oh, and this MUST READ}, my experience with Post Traumatic Stress after nearly losing my son in July 2009, my Medifast journey and my amazing [...]
[...] And then you can read about my Post-Traumatic Traumatized self here -(http://mom-nom.com/2010/03/21/post-trauma-is-traumatic/) and if you’re not good and confused yet, you can read about my first mommy-blogger [...]
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