That phone call is the one that will stick with me forever, the one when I became a strong mother. The one where you move so fast that you can feel the adrenaline pump through your body as your mind races along with it. Your body acts on auto pilot. Your thoughts are a mess. When they come back to you later, you want to erase them from your mind.
You own the road as you drive too fast. Your own sobbing scares you. The phone is being used to call those closest to you, but you keep hearing, “What did you say?”. There’s no time or energy left to repeat yourself so you just say, “Get to the hospital.” Damn the stopped cars, beep your horn. The world needs to know.
As you arrive, you wonder how will you be a strong mother? How do you hide the tears, the inability to talk, the fear, the utter fear? But, something kicks in. There are no words to describe it. And you see her, so small on the cot, with fear in her eyes. You rush over to hold her hand. Brush her hair back and look at her in the eyes. Cover her with kisses as you tell her that it’s going to be OK. The lie just comes out.
The EMT’s arrive and push you away. You hear their voices, but the words aren’t sinking in. You try to get in the back of the ambulance, but they need room for two EMT’s. You’re able to answer questions as they tell you they NEED the information. As they drive, you keep looking through the back window to see your daughter. You have to have her in your vision at all times. When you arrive at the hospital it’s still your duty to be a strong mother. More questions. More hand holding. More fear.
The emergency room has no answers as your daughter’s heart rate goes down from 167 to the 130’s. There was no medication given, just an IV with saline. You’re told to bring her back if it happens again. How will you know? There was no sleep that night for anyone. More lessons on being a strong mother whose daughter was soon diagnosed with sinus tachycardia and after a while, other cardiac conditions.
Are you a strong mother? If so, why?