Next Thing You Know

~Jordan Davis

One of my babies was nearly taken from us, yesterday. Mikayla. Saturday, she’d gone to an honor guard competition. Her team had won. She was so proud and happy! She came home and showed off her pictures with their trophies. Justin and Jackie were here. It was such a beautiful Saturday.

Sunday morning, she left for work. I’d heard her walk out the front door, but I was in the other room. She didn’t come to tell me she was leaving, because she thought I was still asleep. I was really just in my bathroom. I knew where she was headed to, though.

Minutes later, I was standing in my kitchen, stirring my coffee, when my phone rang. It was my baby’s number. My heart leapt through my chest, as I answered it. I somehow knew. My words that followed were simply, “Oh my God, what happened?!” Something in me already sensed that I was about to hear a series of words strung together, I’d prayed would never come. My hysterical daughter screamed, “Mama! Mama!” I kept repeating “WHAT?! WHAT?!” Finally, she was able to tell me, through her terrified tears, “I crashed my car!” Adam had already heard her through my phone. We were on our way out the door, as I was speaking to her. She was only blocks from home. Her car, and my baby, were down a steep ditch, surrounded by trees. I’m struggling through my own sobs and tears, just to write this down now. Telling this story, here, is the first time I’ve really allowed myself to replay the whole series of events. The panic and fear that I continue to feel, is unmatched by any other life occurrence. I cannot bear to imagine my life without one of my children here. I didn’t even hug her goodbye. I could have missed my last opportunity to hold onto her. Even though, thank God, she is okay, I can’t stop the flood of emotion that comes when I consider, but what if. I would never, ever, forgive myself.

She is pretty banged up. She’s got a deep bruise down her shoulder and chest, from her seatbelt. She’s got whiplash, a possible concussion, and several other bumps and bruises. She’s been taking pain medication, along with ice packs and rest. Unfortunately, her car won’t be okay. It’s a total loss. That little white car that she worked for two summers to pay for. She was so very proud to have bought her own car, and rightfully so! This kid has been an honor student, through her whole school career. She’s the hardest working teenager anybody’s ever known. She excels at everything she sets her mind to. All the things she has, have been hard earned, and well deserved. In an instant, her prized possession was all gone. Mine (my daughter) is still here. Although I’m grateful beyond words, to have been able to bring our baby back home, I’m devastated this happened to my sweet girl. As I watch our security camera video of her walking out, Sunday morning, tears pour from my eyes. I see my carefree, happy child, with a little bounce in her step, as she left for work. I can feel that a piece of her innocence was lost, after her accident, just moments later. A piece of my daughter’s joy was taken from her, and from the world. I’m certain, she’ll get a new car, and life will go on. She’ll smile and laugh. She’ll have plenty of happiness. But, there’s a part of her that I’m aware will probably never return. I so deeply wish I could go back in time, and run out to stop her from having left just yet. Hug my girl, tell her how much I love her, and ask her to go a different way to work.

My heart is heavy. Emotions are raw. I didn’t get a minute of sleep, last night, so I’m also exhausted. The purest love I have, is for my babies. I hurt when they hurt. I cry when they’re sad. I celebrate their successes. I’ve plead to God so many times, over the last 24 hours, please don’t call any of my children “home”, for many many more years. I never want to miss another opportunity to hold them, and remind them how much they’re loved. I just want to make this all better, for her. I’m so incredibly proud to be her mama. To be all of my children’s mama.

Give your loved ones an extra squeeze, tonight. We truly never know when, or if, our next opportunity to do so will come.