Why am I think about this right now? Death, obviously.
I can name a few times where I've escaped it, or someone I love has. From the deaths door hospital visits to the near fatal accidents that leave you thankful you hesitated for just an extra 20 seconds. Most of us have those memories, those moments, those almosts, but we don't like to dwell on them.
"All your life you live so close to truth it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye. And when something nudges it into outline, it's like being ambushed by a grotesque."
That's how I feel right now. Ambushed by the grotesque, the truth in this case being the reality of death, the fragility of life.
My son is alive. My son is healthy. My son is mentally, emotionally, socially capable. But how easily it could have been different.
My own birth story is one of near death. A full month before my mother was due to have me she started getting odd pains. One night she rolled over, told my dad she was going to the ER, got up and drove herself in. They did some test and the results led to an immediate emergency cesarean section. My mother was told that had she waited much longer to come in I wouldn't have likely surrvived; the umbilical cord had become detached from the placenta. I spent the first week of my life in a NICU with breathing assistance for a collapsed lung (due to the early delivery). I've always felt extremely lucky to be alive and to have suffered no serious affects from my rather traumatic entrance into this world.
Twenty eight years and two weeks later I found myself having an emergency c-section. This time was slightly less of an emergency (far better survival rate of the two conditions), but still highly traumatic. Jude was breach (we found out 12 hours AFTER my water broke... ultrasounds should be standard when you get to the ER) but more importantly he'd already released his bowels (and had done hours before anyone realized what was going on) and there was fear of meconium aspiration. The longer he was in there with it, the bigger chance he had of serious side effects, including brain damage and even possible death (research MAS if you want all the details, trust me, I have). We were lucky, he was fine, is fine, but to this day I still think of how close we came to tragedy... of how easily it could have been different.
Once, while pregnant with Jude, I don't recall how far along I was but it was near the end. I was nice and round. I was driving to Target, sitting in the turn lane waiting for my light. I was going south on Union Ave, so the turn was a left on to 23rd st. My light changes along with the turn facing me and there were no cars waiting for the light to go straight through. The light turned green and I hesitated, just for a few seconds. A car come speeding down Union coming north, toward me, runs the red he obviously had and keeps going... had I turned when the light changed I would have been t-boned, hard. I think about that moment and how pregnant I was at the time and I get that tightening in my chest, that "holy shit" feeling that reminds you of the might-have-beens.
There are other times, car accidents that I should not have walked away from so easily, late night walks alone that could have spelled rape or murder (there were times I approached random houses to make it look like I'd reached my destination so a car would stop following me. I had my stupid teenager moments too), illnesses that have decently high mortality rates. It's all far more delicate a balance than we want to admit; life and death. I'm not sure we could manage if we thought about it too often though. How much fear might rule our lives if we pay too much attention to that side of the coin. Being reminded every once in a while is all I think we can handle.
Celeste Hope Herrboldt, you have given us the gift of remembrance; life is precious and must not be taken for granted.
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