What today means to my tomorrow....

7 years ago. It's really been 7 years.

Today.

I was 21 years old; it was fall semester of my last year of college! I had worked all day while simultaneously studying for the midterm I had that evening. If I remember correctly it was a food service course.

I would be going on a site tour the following morning for another class and had borrowed my dad's car for the week. A orange 1988 Reliant K car. We called it the creamsicle and it was awesome :) It needed gas so after work I set out.

The sky was blue-I remember that. No rain, no wind and not many clouds. A perfect day weather wise. It was close to 4:00-I remember that too. As I pulled into the pump at the gas station a song came on the radio and I ALMOST stayed in the car to listen to it but didn't. I told myself to do what I needed to to and get back so I would have time to study before dinner and then my test was after.

I paid cash and had to run back in to get the change-the tank wasn't as big as I thought it was I guess! I don't remember what I did with the money. The song was still on in the last few lines and bars of music.

That's the last thing I remember.

I lost so much time and memory that day.

Within a half hour my dad would answer a phone call at home. It was the Livonia Fire Department and they were on the scene of my accident. He was trying not to flip out but had to call my mom at work. I guess someone drove her home while another person followed in her car because she wasn't in a state to drive.

Somehow it happened. To this day I don't remember how. My doctor's tell me that is my mind's way of protecting me. I do remember that I was going to try to make a left turn at the light instead of going across all the lanes of traffic of the other road to get back to school. I had to make a left hand turn to get into the turn lane though. Something happened. I don't know what. I tell myself still that I wouldn't have done anything stupid. That conditions must have changed. I didn't see someone or they didn't see me.

I was hit-on the driver's side T-boned-by a dump truck. The police department later told my parents the car saved me. Since it was an older car they were 'made like tanks' and it took most of the impact. I was hit so hard that had I been in a newer model compact car the PD were sure my car would have flipped. The car sadly didn't make it :( It was totalled but it had been good to me!

When the fire department got to me they were happy to see that I had been wearing my seatbelt. But, the driver's seat was behind the passenger seat and I was still strapped to it. I had a bad head injury and so there was blood everywhere. They told my parents (who knows why they would tell them this) that when they saw me in the car they weren't optimistic about finding a pulse. I was unconscious for quite a while that day.

But they did and they began stabilizing my body and cutting the car open. Yes,I have direct experience with the jaws of life. I don't recommend it :)

Somehow this all happened right outside of St. Mary's hospital. I was taken there as fast as they could get me there.

My parents were making their way across town to be with me. They had to call my roommates to let them know what happened. My roomies had heard the sirens and thougth nothign of it...we lived right behind St. Mary's so it was common. Two of them took off to see if they could do anything at the hospital until my parents got there. From that moment word began to spread. Around campus, my family, my friends...everyone was being told what happened. I always think of it as the calls went out and the prayers went up.

My mom had been in contact with a trauma nurse relaying important info about me so they could treat me. She told them it was bad but I was responsive. I had started to 'come out of it' but I don't remember that at all. I didn't even know I had even been at that hospital. As my parents were preparing to get off their exit the nurse called my mom and told her not to come to the hospital. I had started talking and screaming about how my abdomen and legs hurt. St. Mary's wasn't able to take a trauma case as bad as mine so they were waiting for Survival Flight to arrive from UofM Ann Arbor. She told my parents to go directly there. Since they were literally two minutes from me my mom begged and the nurse agreed to see if they could hold me off for a few moments.

My parents got there and they decribed it as something out of "ER". They were able to talk to me and hold my hand and pray over me. I don't remember it at all. They had literally one minute before they were shoved out of the way and had to stand and watch me get loaded in and take off. My mom wanted so badly to go with me and I dont' blame her. But, the helicopter is balanced for a certain amount of weight, people and equipment and only patients were allowed. My one and only helicopter ride and again, I don't remember it.

My first memory comes sometime after arriving at UofM. I remember yelling at my doctors. I told one he was stupid and that I wouldn't do what he wanted anymore. I remember yelling at everyone as they tried to get me off the glass filled sheet I had been transported on. Every window except one little one had shattered so I had glass everywhere and since they didn't know if my neck and back were ok I had to go several hours with the original sheets and such they used at the scene. Once I was cleared and they could move me more they had to get rid of the glass.

I remember someone pickign it out of my hair and eye corners. I remember my sister standing over me crying. I also remember thinking 'why can't she pull it together?'. Head injuries do funny things. I remember lots of bits and pieces from my stay in the ICU in Ann Arbor.

I asked about my bra and clothes. Sadly they had all been cut off and were gone. I was pretty upset about that one. The only thing I got back was my pair of Wal-Mart shoes.

I remember being asked who the president was. I almost answereed and then stopped. An election was coming up and I didn't know if it had happened yet or not and if we had a new president.

I remember asking when I had popcorn. I hadn't eaten any that day and was confused. I somehow had a kernel stuck in my back tooth. I plucked the 'kernels' out with my tongue and pulled them off my tongue to inspect them. I was looking at several big shards of my tooth. It had shattered below the gum line when I got hit.

All in all I had a better prognosis than they expected. When I complained about my pelvis and abdomen and legs they thought my spleen had ruptured and I had broke my pelvis.

My guardian angel had really been doing her job. The doctors coudln't explain how it happened. I had NO broken bones. But, my entire body from under my left armpit to my knee was one big bruise. It was gross.

I had no internal injuries or bleeding at all. Well except on my head.

I had a 'mild closed head injury' with a concussion and all that good stuff. I had been hit in the head with my door and cracked it open. My sister still talks about how the doctor showed them the wound and they coudl see my skull. I have refrained, somehow, all this time from looking at the pictures she took! I had three layers of stitches in my head-about 30 some in all. I still have the scar and it bothers no one but me. I hate it. But I am grateful to have that instead of another alternative.

I was released the next day and thus began MONTHS of treatment and tests and such. I returned to the ER closer to home a few days later. My parents were told of things to watch out for that would warrant a trip to the hospital. When I started talking about going to high school they were worried. When my mom asked me how old I was and I told her 13 they promptly put me in the car.

That was a huge thing for me now too. I didn't get behind the wheel of a car for 4 months. And, for about 3 weeks I woudl freak out just being in a car. I had to sit in the front where I could see everything or someone had to sit with me in the back...I didn't want to be alone.

My memories of all of this and the following weeks are bits and pieces and I have no idea what order they go in or what goes with what.

I ended up with 6 weeks of physical therapy to repair damage doen to my shoulder and hip. They still bother me to this day but again, it coudl be worse. I had to see a specialist for eye trouble, ear trouble, psychological problems I was having and an oral surgery to prepare my tooth for a crown. I can't even really remember all the things I had to have doen and the doctors I saw. Too many to ever want to go through again.

I did return to school in January. I was determined to finish on time and I did. I had no desire to be in school anymore or be away from my family so I worked to get done. I graduated with honors even. And, went back to work full time while doing it.

I struggled for a long time about why this happened. For some reason this happening to me made me realize how grateful I was but also put a lot of pressure on me. I also realized how naive I was. Nothing this 'bad' had ever touched my little life before. I went to church, got good grades, was nice to everyone, followed the rules all the time; bad things like this don't happen to good people like me. Wrong!

I questioned why I was still here. Yes, God still had a purpose for me. But, to spare me from something like that what in heck was that purpose?? What was so important that I needed to stay here???? I felt like I was living on borrowed time now and every little thing I did had to be right in order for me not to 'waste' this second chance God had given me.

It's gotten easier but I still have my moments. It's very hard for me to see accidents or hear about them and how someone didn't make it. I did. Why didn't that person? I am sure I will always struggle with this. But, I will always be just as grateful too!

And, that song I heard? The one I almost stayed in the car for? Believe it or not (and trust me, I think it's cliche too!) was "Live like you were dying'. It was written about me and for me. I always seem to hear it at just the right moment. The day I graduated college. While we were on the way to the salon on my sisters wedding day. As I played with my nieces. On the way to my first pre-natal appointment :) God is always there to remind me!

I now know why I am here.

Brad was still waiting for his wife. It was me. He had waited so long for me but I had a long way to go before I got to him :)

I am here to be Caroline's (and this amazing new baby) mommy. I look at her and how smart she is already and watch her develop her gifts and talents so early and I just KNOW she is destined to do wonderful and great things. SHE wouldn't be here without ME. God needed me to bring this precious being into the world.

She, Brad and our family are all a part of this story now. I am glad I am still here and hope that I don't ever 'let' God down in his plan for me.

So it is that every October 27 I celebrate another birhtday. A different kind of birthday. A RE-birthday. The day I got a second chance and a wake up call.

The day I will never take for granted. You shoudn't either.

I have never written about this. I don't talk about it much anymore (I talked about it with EVERYONE in the beginning) but I hope it doesnt' bother anyone that I shared it.

And, I hope that after reading this you someday get the chance to live like you were dying. Like tomorrow is a gift...what did you do with it?

God is good. All the time.
All the time. God is good.

Dreamland

The 'big girl room' is finally complete! We've been doing lots of creating, recreating, painting, crafting and shopping to finally get here! We are very pleased with it and so is Caroline; we've had to put one of those childproof doorknob locks on the door so she can't go in there whenever she wants (whenever mommy isn't looking!). She loves sleeping in her big girl bed and aside from the recent problem she's had with getting out of bed to come into our room at all hours of the night we are very happy with this smooth transition.
And, now I will let the room speak for itself:

This tree was a pain to put up but I am in love with it. Both her dollbed and desk are garage sale buys and she loves 'rearranging' the furniture!
I made the curtains from one long panel curtain that I got at Salvation Army for $3 and then embellished. I also re-did the night stand and the lamp is from a Mom2Mom sale.

A close up look of the nightstand...it used to be a plain natural wood color with no decorations at all!

My old dresser that we painted white...much better! I made the picture frames on the dresser, the name blocks on top and re-painted the little shelf on the wall.

In my opinion I think this room is every little girls dream come true :)

Karma. It sucks.

I don't know if I truly believe in Karma per se.

I do think that if you put good (or bad) out there, you will eventually get good (or bad) things come back to you.

Is that Karma?? Who knows.

I do however, 100% fully believe in the mother's curse. Did your mother curse you? Mine did it to me. The curse sounds something like: 'someday when you have your own children I hope they..." or "I hope someday you have a child just like yourself ..."

Then, WHAM!!! Karma steps up and high fives you in the face.

Yes, my parents delight in laughing at my situation with Caroline currently. They don't even try to hide their amusement and enjoyment. I wouldn't blame them. Now that I am in their position, albeit about 25 years later, I hope this cycle of the curse may continue and I can be the one watching my daughter tough this one out.

Back when I was little girl, from about ages 2-6 I enjoyed my bathtime.

I did NOT enjoy having my hair washed though. I think my parents hated it too after awhile. They could close all the windows and lock them tight and even have the air conditioner running making tons of noise; and my dad would be outside later and the neighbor would still say: 'so, you washed Monica's hair this morning,huh?'. They REALLY hated it.

Yes, I would scream and cry and go all hysterics that loud :) They tried everything. I had one of those foam hat things so the water couldn't get in my face. Nope. My mom tried washing my hair in the sink like at a beauty shop. Nope, didn't work. She tried to get me to sing songs with her. It sounded something like this: "these are a FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS" with the octave and emphasis gaining on each word as she poured the water on my head and my knuckles getting white holding on to the arm of the chair.

I remember being in the tub one time and my mom said it was time to lean back to rinse my hair. I did what I thought was 'lean back' and she had to pry my little fingers off the side of the tub and the soap dish as I was holding on to them for dear life so as not to lean back too far. As I said this went on for YEARS. It probably didn't help that I had thick hair down to my butt either. Looking back I cant' believe they didn't just hack it all off and save some time and sanity. And for the safety of their eardrums.

Caroline is not this bad...I hope it never gets like this. I am frustrated already. She won't sit still, she won't stay seated and she rarely stays quiet once that water hits her head. I even try to get it wet in shifts. I start at the back-nowhere near her pretty little face. Nope. The panic begins as soon as any one little hair is damp. She loves taking a bath and her little feet and fingers are all pruney by the time we force her to get out. Her hair is another story. And, since I am the one who is doing the washing that means her dad is the one trying to hold her or lean her back and calm her. Yeah, because he doesn't crumble under his little girl's screams. He is mush and it doesn't usually work when we try not to get it in her face. I have started to just pour two big cups of water right over her head to get it over with as fast as possible. Yes, she screams but we wipe her face and tell her its all over and her world is soon right again.

As much as my parents hated washing my hair they love when I wash Caroline's hair about ten times as much. They get too much joy out of this. My mom does tell me I am only being a good mother but she has to stop chuckling first.

The mother's curse. Don't ever doubt it.