Read a quote the other day that said “The hardest thing I had to do was be a mother while my heart was breaking”. Thought about this a lot after reading it. Could mean a million and one things. Was it for the mother that was going through a divorce? Was it for the mother that gave up her child for adoption? Was it for the mother that was trying to better herself while being in a recovery program? Was it for the mom who was going through chemo? Was it for the mom who watched her child suffer after an accident or illness?

15 years ago I was two of these moms. One going through a divorce and one trying to help a child who was hurt badly in an auto accident. The divorce parts seemed easy after seeing your child try to hang on to life and see your other child try to process it all. My son was 16 and was going to his first day of work at a pizza place about 5 miles from our house. I had just moved back into the house with my ex-husband to give it one last shot at marriage. He was thinking of moving to another state but we also were trying one last time to fix what had been broken.

It was a beautiful August morning. My daughter had some friends for a sleep over and my son the night before had reconnected with friends on our block. The kids and I had just moved back to the house after being gone a few years. The morning started out like any other, breakfast and chaos with kids running around. Later that day we were going into the city for a friend’s son’s 16th birthday party. My son had asked if he could drive himself. I figured he would be safe because it was on one long highway, a straight shot. I also had figured his way to work on a back road so he wouldn’t be in so much traffic on his first day. He left about 10 am and by 11 I received a call asking if he was going to take the job since he was not there. I immediately let my instincts take over. I called a neighbor to ask her to drive me the way he went to work. I had a very bad feeling all morning even before the call. We got to the first road and it was blocked with police who said there had been a terrible accident. They were not letting any cars go through. My friend had grown up in the area and I asked her to call all the hospitals. The first hospital said they did not have anyone by his name but to try the second hospital because there had been an accident and someone was airlifted to the major hospital. That’s when I heard the voice on the other end say are you driving are you alone? I said no I have a friend with and they told me to give the phone to my friend. I heard them say get her here quickly. I started crying and calling my family. They were all 65 miles away. I got to the hospital and took me to THE room. I said no I don’t want to be in that room because then that means it is really bad.

They brought in the chaplain and she explained that it was very horrible and they did not believe he would survive.

After they cleaned him up they let my cousin in first. He wanted to see if I could handle it. When a 6 foot 2 big burly guy comes out crying you know it wasn’t going to be good. I went in and he looked like someone sleeping peacefully. They would not let me lift the sheet because his body had been mangled.

You go through the motions of hearing doctors and nurses and family members trying to explain it all. But you don’t really hear anything. It’s like listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher. All you hear is Wah wah wah. Things start moving quickly and decisions have to be made. You think you have control over it but you really don’t. So you sit and wait and sit and wait. People start coming to support you and you try and remember who was there but you can’t. Time seems like it is stuck and never moving ahead. 24 hours they tell you and now its 48 hours and you are still sitting there waiting for a miracle.

Everything was a blur and today I could not even tell you what was being asked. One thing I do remember is that a nurse came with a stack of papers for me to sign. It was August 17, 2002 but all papers said November 17, 2002. I asked why that date on papers. Is it the date he would be okay? She looked at me like I was crazy and said I wrote August 17th and I said no look it all says November 17th. Which I told her was my grandma’s birthday. The grandma who favored my son. She was stunned and did not know what to say. A silence fell across the room. That is when I felt a calming peace come over me. I knew he would be ok because of that sign that was being sent to me.

And then a week goes by and then another week and so on. Seems like eternity. Then he wakes up and the next chapter begins quickly. Moving to another facility. No nursing home I say. He will never get better. That’s one decision I am firm about. So we move on to Marianjoy Rehab Hospital. And so it begins. The transformation. The hardships. The trials and the tribulations. The celebrations and the joy. The two steps forward and the 10 steps backward. The am I making the correct decisions for my son’s life or not? Time goes on. People stay and people go. Some can’t handle it so they move on with a good-bye. Some come back and try to stay but they just can’t. And that’s okay. Not everyone is cut out to stick around. But then there are those who never left. They were all mourning the boy we had lost. People say there is a reason for this. And you search and search and try to figure it out. Why would there be a reason for a horrific accident? But as years go by you see things that might just tell you why. And you wonder.

As a mother I had to sit and pray. I had to mother a child who was supposed to be on his way to becoming a man but was back to being a baby. I had to help my 10 year old daughter understand what was going on and help her still be a 10 year old and not grow up too fast because of what had happened. I had to rethink all my decisions with all my relationships.

My heart was broken for so many reasons. My child was hurt and almost died, my other child was now acting like the older child trying to understand her role and my husband was going to be on his way to another state. He is not my son’s father but raised him from 3 years old. He stayed another year and tried to help and we tried to take our relationship back. But it was too hard.

Love was lost because other things had to come before it. My first priority was my children and pushing my son to get better and back to normal. It wasn’t easy. Took 8 long years to get him back to being someone who could walk, talk and understand what was going on. He worked long and hard to come back.

My life was never going to be the same even if my son recovered. I was finding my new normal, hospitals, lawyers, doctors, tutors, therapists. I was lucky to have a support system that I did. My family and friends and the city my parents and I had lived for 30 years rallied around us. My friends in the small town where we had our house visited and stayed close. It was better to move back to the city the psychologists said because that is what he remembered.

My heart was breaking and still does every so often. I am 56 and this was not how I imagined my life way back when. I had imagined travel and growing old with someone. I had imagined a big career instead of a job that keeps me close to home, but understands when I have appointments to get to. I had imagined my son graduating college, marrying and making his own way. And all of this will be possible; it will just take a little longer. He is truly a miracle and is on his way to great things.

So there are a lot of hard things that come our way. But the quote is true for me. “The hardest thing I had to do was be a mother while my heart was breaking”.