As I watch my son show me what determination really is, I sit in awe of the amazing paths life’s journey leads us. On October 14, 2013, I lost all assurance in my ability as mother/protector as I raced after my five year old, screaming my lungs capacity of the foreshadowed event playing in my mind as I ran toward the road of speeding traffic. The sudden sound like a melon being imploded filled my ears. When I caught up to my son, he lay in the yield lane as speeding traffic continued driving by.
I screamed, “NO!” I cried, “Oh, God! No! This can’t be. Oh! God! NO! Not my Angel!” A man said from behind me, “Someone needs to call 911.” No one had moved. I began tearing through my purse for my phone, and called. I stood frozen and forced my voice to answer the dispatcher.
“A 5year old was hit by a car on US1 where the Fire Station is across from Corky Bells.” I knew no streets. I knew no markers. I knew no jargon or words to make the dispatcher act faster. I could only cry, “Please, come help my baby is hit. He is bleeding. He’s in the road. I need help! I don’t know street names. I only know we’re on US1 with Corky Bells across the street.”
A woman with short blonde hair arrived saying, “I’m a nurse. What happened? Did someone call 911? Let me get his pulse. We have a pulse.” In my shock, I continued to repeat what I knew to the dispatcher, crying, “My child was hit by a car. Oh God! No! Please hurry. It’s getting dark. No one is here. Where is the ambulance?”
The nurse’s voice cut through my hearing, “His pulse is weakening. I lost his pulse.” I jolted toward my little man, lying on the ground, face cut open; the nurse holding his face together trying to stop the bleeding. She tells her friend to help with CPR. I sob, screaming from my lungs, “Luis! Mommy is right here. Don’t go baby! God, please don’t take my Angel. Please let me keep him still. Don’t take him yet. Please!”
He coughed and his body choked with air. “Thank you Jesus.”