As we piled up shirt after shirt I came to one that stopped me in my tracks. For some seemingly morbid reason I felt the need to put it on him. And then I cried. Our box of hand-me-downs contained a staunch reminder of the worst day of my life. It was the shirt my Samuel wore the day of his accident.
I have a terrible need to put some things "down on paper", and for some reason I also want to share them with someone. I really wanted to do something to mark this occasion for him. I wanted him to see what God has done in his life, but he's a little too young to relive all this yet so I'm just purging all my pent-up feelings here.
To my friends who have lost their little ones, you may not want to "go there" with me. That's okay, I understand. I'm so sorry the ending to your baby's story didn't turn out the same as Samuel's. By God's grace we'll all share in the same eternal ending.
I knew Samuel was special from the start. It wasn't long after I was married that I quit using birth control. It didn't work well with my hormones so we decided it best to just trust God's timing for having a baby. Of course, if everything's functioning normally, a baby should eventually be in the picture. As month after month passed, Satan whispered in my ear how I had cursed my own womb. I had been so enthralled with adoption when I was a kid that I had always said I didn't need "children of my own. I would be perfectly happy adopting." As I grew in God, I learned the power that words have and - you know the Father of Lies - he knows how to play on your weaknesses, even using Godly knowledge to manipulate your emotions! I'm not doing the math now, but it had at least been a couple years since I had done anything to prevent myself from having a baby, so why wasn't I pregnant yet? God gently spoke to me to stop listening to that devil. Later that day hubby and I made an official decision to actually "start trying", and lo and behold I was already a few days pregnant (I have done that math). Samuel was conceived first in the heart of God, and in His perfect plan He whispered into our ears that "now is the time". Obviously, God had a great plan for this one!
Fast forward two years to November 14th. My guys were napping at the house. I had run to the store, and when I returned home someone was parked blocking our driveway. We had a vehicle for sale, and they had briefly pulled in to check it out. I decided to park just off the road, we could move the truck later. I spoke with the interested buyer, and when the guys woke up they came out to join us. He decided to take it for a test drive. While he was gone we thought to tidy up the front porch since it was littered with baby gear.
Noe jotted over to the truck to back into the driveway, and I grabbed the stroller to pop it in the trunk of the car. Samuel was at the trunk with me. And then he wasn't. I heard a car honk and turned around to see Samuel rolling. On the ground. Under the truck. All the way under. As soon as I screamed Noe knew what had happened. Have you ever had a nightmare about something bad happening to your helpless baby? That doesn't hold a candle to it actually happening. Take that feeling of waking up from a dream that felt so real you woke up sobbing and multiply it by 10...or 100. That may begin to describe terror.
Blood was spilling from my son's head and ear. Do I hold him up? Do I lay him down? The only thing to press up against his head is a towel used to dry a dog house that had just been cleaned. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. That was the name that escaped my mouth as we sped to the hospital. My stomach is turning just typing through the memory.
At the hospital there was screaming for doors to be opened, hoping that they realize that my son needs immediate attention and not a temperature taken while a photocopy of our insurance card is made. Too many people surrounded Samuel for me to even fit in the room where they led us so I left. I asked a nurse if he was going to be okay, and she wouldn't say anything. I begged her just to lie and tell me everything would be fine, but she wouldn't. My hope is still in Christ, but tragedies happen all the time. His blood started to dry on my clothes, and all I wanted to do was take them off. I could barely write down my mom's phone number for the receptionist to call. I asked her to tell my mom what happened so I wouldn't have to say it out loud yet, but she couldn't do it. She just told her to come right away. Mom called everyone.
I was pregnant so Noe went alone with him for X-rays. My poor baby.
The police officer and chaplain met with me to find out what happened, and then friends and family started showing up at the hospital. A doctor quickly tells me that life-flight has been called for him - they won't take any chances with children, but he'll also have to travel alone.
Finally, the peace of God rises from my spirit. I don't need to finish watching the helicopter take off. I'm ready to go home, grab a shirt and rush to Houston to meet my baby. From there on out there were nerves and health scares, but oh, how the peace of God surpasses all understanding.
When we arrived at the hospital Samweli was somewhat alert and watching a movie they had set up right above his face. He was so excited he had ridden in a helicopter! His uncle and aunt had been close by already so they were waiting on him as soon as he arrived. Other friends actually beat us to the waiting room. We got reports of lacerations, multiple fractures to the skull, more scans and x-rays needed.
I don't know if God gave Samweli his big head just to protect him in this situation (if you know us well, you know we've always joked about his big head) or maybe he was protected from serious injury during the accident. I feel like believing that he was healed in our truck on the way to the hospital.
When we call on the name of Jesus, we. are. saved.
His injuries were so minimal that, had he not been a young child, they would've forgone the general anesthesia and surgery to strap him down and sew him up right there in the ER. We initially spent about 24 hours in that hospital before we were discharged. We landed back in the hospital less than a week later, but his neurosurgeon just wanted to keep him under observation for safety's sake. We left the hospital for the last time on Thanksgiving Day.
After being run over by a truck Samuel's notable injuries were: a laceration to his head, a break in one of his ear bones (the best kind of break you can have), and a break in his skull (with no shifting that meant no surgery was required).
|Last Year Today|
I'm so thankful for God's mercy.
If you remember anything I said during the days surrounding this terrible accident, I hope it is that.
Because God is good no matter if Samweli lived or died.
Because God has a plan for all his little ones, even those whose lives come to an end way to early.
Because God encamps his angels around all those he loves and cares for.
I celebrate today because God is merciful. What the devil meant to use for my son's destruction, God has used for his good.