At 9:39 p.m., my phone buzzed with an alarming call from my daughter’s friend. “Lucy got hit by a car!” I had to ask her to repeat this statement multiple times, as the words felt foreign, incomprehensible.
We were in the city, celebrating our anniversary while my 16-year-old daughter, Lucy, and her friends were at a concert. Everything had been perfect until that moment when chaos struck.
Fortunately, the accident occurred just a short distance from us, allowing us to reach her quickly. Emergency responders were already on the scene, carefully securing Lucy onto a stretcher. She was conscious, albeit shocked and injured.
My husband was frantically urging me to ensure the other girls got home safely. I hesitated but understood the necessity. I couldn’t leave them alone in the city, so I slipped into autopilot mode, my mind racing with panic as I navigated through the evening.
The cab ride, followed by an hour and a half on the train, felt surreal. My phone was dead, isolating me from my husband and the outside world. Despite seeing Lucy alive, my mind spiraled into dark thoughts. What if she had severe injuries? What if I lost her? The fear of planning a funeral consumed me.
Rational thoughts would emerge, reminding me that she was awake, talking, and seemingly fine. Yet, the haunting “what ifs” returned, torturing me during the agonizing journey back. I clutched a Novena my mother had given me years ago, reading it repeatedly, holding onto hope for my daughter’s recovery.
Upon reaching the hospital, I found Lucy in intensive care, surrounded by machines. Every beep sent me into panic mode, and I was incessantly checking with nurses to confirm her vitals. I moved in a daze, grappling with fear and disbelief. The initial hours were a blur, filled with uncertainty and dread about the reality of the situation.
As details emerged, I learned that Lucy had been struck by a vehicle traveling at 40 miles per hour. Miraculously, she sustained minimal injuries—no fractures, just some bruises and a possible brain bleed. We felt like we had dodged a bullet; it truly was a miracle.
Days went by, and the voice of her friend, delivering the terrible news, lingered in my mind. However, it gradually faded. I could finally close my eyes without envisioning my daughter being thrown through the air. I had learned to let go of the relentless “what if” thoughts, even if it took time.
In the aftermath, I discovered profound lessons about gratitude, strength, and the importance of compassion. I realized the significance of cherishing every day and treating each moment as precious, for everything can change in an instant.
I am immensely grateful that Lucy emerged from this traumatic incident mostly unharmed, merely with a limp—a small reminder of the fragility of life. Knowing she doesn’t remember the incident is a blessing in itself.
I feel like the luckiest mother alive, holding her a little closer and appreciating each moment more deeply. It only takes a blink of an eye to alter everything.
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Summary
In the harrowing experience of my daughter nearly losing her life, I learned the importance of gratitude, presence, and compassion. After a terrifying incident where she was struck by a car, I discovered how quickly everything could change, reinforcing my appreciation for life and the people around me.
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