Thank you to everyone who responded* to my last entry with well wishes for my family. It took a little over two weeks for me to get back to a more normal me, though I feel the experience has changed me forever. I don’t mean to sound so dramatic, but I feel like I’ve aged, or that I’ve lost years off my life. I’ve stopped reliving the accident in my head, and I’m not in constant fear for the boys’ safety when they’re away from me. But when I’m alone, there’s still a sort of numbness and somberness hanging over me, but it’s bearable.

I’ve taken a part time job at the boys’ school as the primary caretaker of between 40-65 kids during extended carpool. Surprisingly, the experience has been much different than the experience I’ve had as a substitute teacher. I’m finding relationship building with the kids to be very rewarding. I’ve also joined the Parent Council as a representative for Brendan’s classroom. Rob is a rep for Jacob’s classroom, so that basically means I get to do both. I’ve volunteered to help in the front office after morning carpool as well, in hopes that it will eventually lead to bigger and better things.

The vocational school training was very disappointing and a big waste of my time. I’d still like to get the training, but this particular program in its current form will never be a good fit for me. I’d like to believe that Brendan’s accident had no influence on my decision to withdraw from the program, but I think the timing alone may have been an influence. I was forced to be away from him to work on mindless tasks before I was ready to leave him at all. I thought I was ready to pursue a real career, but for now I’m more than content being a part timer at the boys’ school.

So, yeah. Life goes on.

* Genius that I am, I deleted my previous entry while trying to delete an old draft. I had it cached, and so was able to rewrite it, but the comments all went bye-bye. BUT I did read them, and I THANK YOU ALL (Lilie, Oz, mike, Amber, ker_thwap) for them.

Every time I sit down to put the words here on my blog, I get a sick feeling in my stomach and can’t continue. But time isn’t making it any easier. I should first start out by saying that the story has a happy ending. It’s the happy ending that makes it that much more difficult to understand why I’m feeling the way I am.

On the afternoon of Friday, September 1, Brendan was riding his bike without wearing his helmet and for reasons unknown to us veered out into the main street of our subdivision. My boys don’t ride along that street normally, and he would have no reason to cross to the other side of the street. As far as we can tell, the sidewalk was blocked by our neighbor’s boat as he packed it to leave for the long weekend and Brendan rode out into the street to get around it. The driver of the oncoming SUV was over the speed limit, which is typical of drivers who cut through our sub. I’ve also been told he had his eyes on my neighbor’s boat just moments before colliding with my son.

We’ve been told that Brendan was thrown 20-25 ft. before landing unconscious in front of the car. Rob had been riding with Brendan and had just put his bike away. I had just gotten home from the gym and was heading upstairs to take a shower when I heard the tires screech and the crash. My neighbor yelled, and I ran outside. My immediate thought was that a car had hit another car backing out of the driveway and that the men involved were going to fight about it. As soon as I got outside, I saw Rob running and heard another neighbor calling our names. I looked for children immediately. The other children were playing in our collective backyards, so I never really believed it was a child in the road.

And then I saw the image that I will never forget. My son, in the road, unconscious. His bike mangled beneath the SUV. Brendan was unconscious with his back to me. There was a lot of blood. I found his pulse and was somewhat relieved. Eventually, he started moaning, then talking, and then started struggling to get up. I guess that was a good thing.

He was taken by ambulance to the trauma center and shortly after transferred to another hospital that specializes in pediatrics. He was admitted to the pediatric ICU for three days before being released with five stitches in his head, several abrasions, permission to return to his normal activities, and orders to wear his helmet the next time he gets on his bike. The accident has had a positive impact on the neighborhood and the community. Everyone in the neighborhood is now wearing helmets when they bike or skate. I’ve been told that the city has ordered stop signs to be placed at our corner–something we’ve been asking our builder for for years. I’ve also been told that our builder may be fined for failing to install the stop signs earlier. The police have increased their daily patrols of our neighborhood to control the thru-traffic.

We’re very lucky. It’s over and it appears there will be no lasting effects from the accident. Brendan’s as well as could be. A week after the accident, his scars have almost completely healed. He has no recollection of the accident and shows no stress of any kind. I, however, am not handling things quite as well as he is. When I’m around other people, I’m fine. When I’m alone, my mood varies from severely depressed to numbness. I’ve lost all interest in the things I used to do for enjoyment. I don’t care about books or games or the computer. I have no interest in making art or jewelry. My classes have been more of a chore than a place to learn, and I find myself distracted and preoccupied with the accident. I can’t sleep alone. I want to quit everything–school, work, tae kwon do, jewelry making, and the blog. Yet, everything is fine. He’s healthy and safe. And I’m being completely irrational.

In a way, I feel like I deserve to suffer like this. Afterall, I’m sure more than one person who has learned of our story will wonder “where the hell was the boy’s mother?” and “why was he allowed to ride without a helmet?” and “wasn’t he taught to stay out of the street?” Most people have been very understanding.

Some people tell me my feelings are normal. But no one has given me assurance that they’ll eventually fade and let me get back to a normal life. A week out of the hospital with my boy running around like nothing happened hasn’t helped me ease back into a comfortable place. I don’t want to be constantly afraid for them. I don’t want to hover at the phone waiting for a call from their school about an accident. I don’t want to continue to require them to stay within arm’s reach when they’re home. I don’t want to be tempted to keep them home from school every single day just so I can hug them and keep them safe.

I’ll never be rid of the images I replay over and over about the accident, and I don’t expect to be. But I would like to have some control over the images that are currently controlling my life.