Lucky, Blessed, Grateful, Hurting

Today I am feeling so lucky and grateful that Dylan and I are still alive, and that Dylan does not even have a scrape on him.  I am also feeling incredibly sore and irritable and blue.  Ever since the accident three days ago, I wake up and cry.  I feel so traumatized.  Poor Chad listens to me complain constantly about my aches and pains (have I mentioned that every single joint hurts, by the way?). He never once tells me how much worse it could have been and that I should remember how lucky I am.  He just nods his head, hugs me, and lets me vent. Maybe if I let it all out here I can give him a break, and stop the constant firing of neurons causing me to relive details that I would like to forget.

I keep flashing back and seeing my sudden stop from 60mph.  I had time to breathe a sigh of relief and to think about how scary that was.  I heard brakes and skidding and felt the hit.  I couldn't stop my car from sliding forward no matter how hard I pushed on the brakes with both feet.  Another hit as my car was pushed into the car stopped in front of me. Then a third impact.  I still have no idea where it came from.  Everything around me was a blur except for the screaming baby in the back who I tried to reassure through my shaking and tears.  I vaguely remember trying to get him out of his car seat from inside and calling Chad.  Then I was standing on the side of I-95 with a 7-month old baby.  Cars flew by on their way to work, too busy to even slow down to rubberneck.  One man convinced me to step to the other side of the guard rail just to be a little more safe.  People were asking me questions. I don't know what they were. Somehow I located my license, proof of insurance and registration.  Then we stood there and waited.  I hugged and kissed Dylan over and over.  People checked on us again and again.  Finally Chad arrived and helped me take care of the situation.  Did I call the police? No. A state trooper had magically arrived at the scene.  Had I called the insurance company? No, but that other guy did.  Did I take pictures? No, should I?  Lucky for us, we live in the age if Blackberries and I Phones and Chad was able to take care of this while I remained in a daze.  I remember focusing on a scratch on our back bumper where the plastic was scraped away.  My focus zoomed in on it and I remember thinking how bad it looked and that it would be hard to fix.  I was completely missing the fact that except for this scratch, the rest of the bumper was gone. Someone found the license plate of the car that hit us inside my car and reality started to set in.

Ever since Chad drove us safely away from that place, I have uncontrollably broken into tears.  I just have to remember that we are OK.  When I watch Dylan laughing and playing I am reminded that he will have to live with absolutely no repercussions of this.  That is enough to help me heal each day.  I will, however, miss that beautiful Jetta Sportwagen TDI that saved our lives.