April 19, 2010 was one of the worst days of my life. It opened my eyes to a lot. I laid in the hospital bed without a scratch on me. Sure my back and neck hurt, but other than that, I felt fine. But it didn’t matter.
I can still picture you. Crying over your precious car. Not bothering to come over and check on me, or the woman you sent me hurdling into. Only the other woman and the officer asked how I was. “I’m pregnant” I said quietly to the officer. He asked if I wanted an ambulance. Did I? No, I can’t even afford it. I’m just gonna go. I look back and you are still upset as your car is being towed. And all I can think is, you selfish bitch.
I remember being stopped in traffic on Southfield. That the light was green but because of the construction we were at a stand still. I remember reaching down for my Tim Horton’s Ice Cap, the only thing I was able hold down at the time. I remember looking in the rear-view mirror as I did and braced for what was clearly about to happen. With your phone in your hand eyes clearly on it as the light from your screen left a blue haze on your face. I’m trapped, I can’t move. I’m honking to try and get your attention, making people angry thinking that I’m honking at the traffic. Watching you try to brake, but it was too late.
Then the impact, and the second impact. You hit me and I was sent flying into the woman in front of me. I remember thinking that I was kind of far away from the car in front of me considering it was bumper to bumper traffic. That maybe I won’t hit it. But no such luck. I slammed into her just as you slammed into me. You never came to talk to us. The woman in front of me informed me that I hit her so hard her wig flew off. That’s always the part that I talk about, making light of it. But it wasn’t light. It wasn’t funny. It was terrifying.
“I’m pregnant,” I quietly said to the officer. It was the first time I really felt it. The first time I had really connected with it. I was just about 9 weeks pregnant. I had just found 2 weeks before. And I was scared. Just a couple people knew. I was embarrassed and ashamed at 19 years old. My mom said she would support me in whatever decision I would make, but I had to make it for myself. Tears in my eyes, heart in my chest. “I’m pregnant,” I quietly said to the officer, admitting it out loud, being the only time it felt real.
He made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal but asked if I wanted an ambulance. I didn’t. I was fine. Right? And I drove to campus. I went to a few classes. I went and spent time with my usual crew in the cafeteria, still in shock. I called my mom again. Should I go to the hospital? “I would” she says. So I leave school and drive myself to the hospital. She meets me there.
I laid in the hospital bed, without a scratch on me. Sure my back and neck hurt, but other than that, I felt fine. But it didn’t matter. Tears in my eyes as they do the ultra sound. As I watch my baby dance across the screen for the first time. “It’s okay” I’m thinking. But no, not so fast. I’m crushed as they tell me that it doesn’t mean anything. That it can still die. That injuries can still happen. That I can still have a miscarriage. And I think about you crying over your car as they tell me, the same way you would tell someone what you want from a restaurant, that if my baby dies they would do a procedure and take it out in chunks. “Chunks” was what I was told. I spend 7 hours in the hospital and sent home with several weeks, at least, of bed rest.
I decided in the hospital, when there was a possibility of my choice being taken away, that I had to get real. There was no way I could give up my baby. I don’t know why I even pretended like I could. Adoption or abortion, it didn’t matter. I decided then and there that baby was mine regardless of how anyone else felt about it. Don’t pat yourself on the back for that. I would have eventually come to the same decision. It just came much faster.
That baby, is a boy named Keegan. He brings such light to my life. The sun rises on his face. He is so smart, handsome, and sweet. But sometimes I wonder, if your selfish act is the reason his brain is different. His sensory issues and possible autism, could that be because of the trauma to his early developing brain? Were you the reason that he was a two vessel cord baby? Did the other vessel tear during that accident? We weren’t even aware until quite a ways on. Were you the reason he was small? Or the reason that his legs were short? Or the reason the amniotic fluid wasn’t fantastic. Was that you? I guess we will never know.
What would I say to you if I got the chance? What would I ask you? What was on your phone that was worth risking lives over? Some Facebook post? A text? Were you talking and holding your phone down looking at it instead of holding it up to your cheek? What was the deal? What was so exciting? That’s all I want to know.
What did your text say?