Yesterday was my thirty-fifth birthday. We were having an
unusually productive day. Nate was working in the yard. The ice cream and
cupcakes were ready. The burgers were on the grill. The kids were out playing
in the yard. There was a flurry of activity as everyone came inside for dinner.
Rhianna was clearly over-tired. Over and over again she screamed “Evie!” at me.
It is something she does quite frequently, whenever Evie steals what she was
playing with. I was trying to get the food ready, though, so getting Rhianna’s
toy back was taking a back seat to more pressing concerns, despite the temper
tantrum. She would forget about it when we sat down for dinner.
As soon as everyone was inside and ready to eat, I noticed
we were missing someone. Evie was probably hiding with whatever she had stolen
from Rhianna. I called for her, but she didn’t respond. I decided to try the
intercom. It’s a fun contraption that has certainly cut down on the shouting
around my home. You push the button to talk and your voice is projected to
every room in the house, the back porch, and the garage. For about 20 seconds
after speaking into it, the speaker lets you hear what is happening in all the
other locations, so that the person you are calling can respond without having
to go find a speaker. I called for Evie to come, as soon as I let go of the
button, fear exploded in my chest. She was screaming, from somewhere with an
intercom speaker.
Thinking she might be trapped in the garage, I went there
first, with Chloe running in front of me. The garage has two sections, divided
by a wall. As soon as I entered the first one, I knew she must be in the second,
where Nate keeps the lawn mower he had recently finished with. I could hear her
now, not the speaker. Chloe got there first and ran into the dark without
bothering to turn on the lights. I flipped the light switch and Chloe shouted, “Open
the garage door, Mom. She’s stuck.” Even as I reached for the button, my own
chest compressed as if I couldn’t breathe.
This is a paranoia of mine, along with blind cords and SIDS.
When we moved into the house, I had the garage doors fitted with sensors, so
they would refuse to close if a child ran under them. Only the day before, I
had heard of a kitten getting crushed under the weight of a garage door and I
felt sick for hours.
By the time I got there, after opening the door, Evie was up and obviously okay. She was sobbing and shaking, with a thick bruise on her arm, where it had been stuck, but she was not seriously hurt. Apparently, she had seen a toy on the outside of the door as it was closing. She reached her arm out to grab it and the door had closed on top of it. But this particular door is broken. It never closes all the way, leaving half an inch gap which enabled Evie’s arm to be stuck, but not crushed.
When tragedies happen, people often find themselves haunted
by the “what ifs” that might have prevented their misery. I found myself in a
similar state of mind in this near tragedy. What if that door had closed all
the way? What if it had been her head, neck, or chest which had been stuck? If
she hadn’t been screaming, how long would she have been alone? What if she had
become another heart-breaking statistic of childhood accidents? And on the other side, why in the world hadn't I listened to Rhianna?
Last night, as I sent the kids to bed, I looked at my Evie
and told her that I loved her. My little three-year-old said, “I love you, too.”
Then she paused, as if she knew what was going on in my heart, and added, “Mommy,
I’m okay.”
Today was just another boring day. There are days I get a
little lost in the monotony. I did some dishes, washed some clothes, and changed
some diapers. But when Evie came down to the laundry room to ask if she could
help me (which is code for messing up all the work I’ve already done) I told
her I would love that. How grateful I am for one more boring day.
Great writing, Amy.
ReplyDeleteA similar thing happened to Nathan when he was a bit older than Evie; he was in kindergarten, I think.
We had an old station wagon and the back seats faced each other. They could close, adding cargo space.
One Saturday afternoon, we had come home from a day at the park, or some such activity, and I was in the shower. Robert opened the door and hollered something about Nathan. Robert would have been 3 or 4 years old at the time. I decided to deal with whatever Robert said when I got out of the shower.
Meanwhile, Chad came in and said he was going to take the kids to get some hamburgers at a joint called "Duck Burgers." He said all the kids were going with him, except for Nathan, whom he couldn't find.
After I was dressed, make-up-ed, hair done, I went outside to look for Nathan. I called all his friends' houses and he was not there. I checked in the play house outside, and then remembered that Robert had come to tell me something about Nathan. I realized that Nathan was lost or in trouble of some kind. He had been missing for over an hour.
I kneeled in the house and said a quick prayer, then went outside again hollering Nathan's name. I stood at the end of the driveway near the station wagon, and the Spirit whispered to me to be quiet and listen. As I did, I heard a faint crying. I realized at that moment that Nathan was in the station wagon.
I flung the back door open, and heard him loud and clear. He was locked in the cargo hold with no way to get out. They had been playing hide and seek and he hid in between the seats, pulling them down over him and they locked.
An interesting side-note here: a similar situation happened to a family in the mid-west and the child who was locked under the seats died from heat exhaustion and lack of air. The station wagons were recalled after that.
Nathan and I sat inside the house in the rocking chair as he cried and told me about the awful experience. I was glad I had time alone with him, without the rest of the family. I wish I would have paid more attention to Robert when he tried to tell me that Nathan was lost.
How dear to our hearts are our little ones, but how much dearer are they to our Father in Heaven who loves them even more than we do. I am so glad for a God who watches over us all, and is patient with the parents who are learning how do be good guardians of His children.