Trauma
by Ashley Weeks Cart
In the early hours of last Monday morning, I was welcoming new life into the world. In the early hours of this Monday morning, I was saving the life of the woman who gave me mine.
Despite the trauma, I am just so grateful. That she’s alive, that I was there to help, that she was here visiting us and not alone at her house, that my brave 4 year old was with her when it happened and warned me and James. Sunny is her namesake’s guardian. And had to grow up light years more than I’d wish for a preschooler (this feels ironic, written mere hours before the emergency). She was so brave. She was a helper. She saved her Momar’s life. And waited by the window for the ambulance.
Mommy, I’m looking for the ambulance. They’re coming to help. They’ll help Momar. I’ll tell you and daddy when I see the lights.
I’ll take the trauma I’m feeling and seeing in the eyes of my little girl over the unrelenting devastation our family would have experienced had she not been here, had Sunny not been by her side.
There’s so much healing to be done, but we are all safe now. My mom is healing in the ICU. We are safe. Safe.
I keep whispering these words to myself to calm my shaking hands, to wipe the images from my mind, to make sense of the nonsensical.
I saved the life of the woman who gave me mine, and I will never be the same.
