Beau's going to be okay. We're okay. I'm okay.
This has been my mantra for the last 37 hours.
It starts Friday morning. The boys are home from daycare. It's a teacher work day. We're up. Breakfast is had. We're now playing in the living room.
Beau has to run to the pool store. He has scrubbed the pool. There is an algae bloom. He'll be back in 30 minutes. I go upstairs with the boys. LJ needs to take a nap. I am rocking him, patting his little belly, singing and begging RB to be quiet because Bubba needs to go night night.
It is 9:38 in the morning.
My phone rings, Beau's name illuminating the screen.
I answer, "Hey, baby."
A woman says, "Hello?"
My brain says, "oh jeez, Beau lost his phone!"
I respond "Hello?"
She says, "You're husband has been in an accident. His gun accidentally discharged when he was getting out of the car."
My brain fills with static.
"I'm sorry, what? I don't understand. What? Is he okay?" I stare at my babies. My beautiful babies.
"He's awake and talking. An ambulance is on the way. How quickly can you get here?" She asks me this with such empathy, it is almost pouring through my phone.
I pause. I freeze. I disassociate. Thirty seconds (Minutes? Days? Years?) pass.
She says, "Hello?"
I come back to reality. "I.. I.. I have two kids under the age of two. I'm alone. It'll take me a minute to get in the car but I'm going now."
"I will stay on the phone with you. It's going to be okay. I'm here," she says, not knowing me, not knowing us, but I can feel her love and grace all around me.
I run around the room. I change the boys into clothes. They are both in just diapers. I have no what I am doing. My lizard brain takes over. RB senses something is off. He is being silly, trying to lift my spirits. I am trying to be a good mom while absolutely over taken by terror.
"I'm in the car now. I'm heading your way. Are you near him? Can I speak with him?" My voice is clear. My thoughts are not.
"The EMT is here. I'm going to put you on speakerphone and hand this to your husband. It may be better if you just meet him at the hospital. They're going to leave here fast." She's so calm, so collected. If I had any room for any additional feelings in this moment, I would've admired her.
I speak with Beau. He tells me he loves me. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I hope this isn't what takes me out." His voice is clear. His thoughts are not.
"You're going to be fine. I'm on my way." I have no idea where he's going to at this moment. But I am going wherever that is.
An EMT comes on the line and tells me he's going to Houston. Memorial Hermann. The ambulance is taking him to the hospital in town. A helicopter is waiting. He'll be life-flighted. They'll give him a blood transfusion in the air. Somehow I continue breathing. I look at my boys in the back seat. LJ is sleeping. RB is reading his book. My knuckles are white.
I head to Houston. I stay on the phone with Beau. I tell him I love him. I fucking love him. He can do this. He can handle this. It's okay. He's okay. We're okay. I hear him scream in pain. I hear inaudible chatter from EMTs. I hear the transfer from the ambulance to the helicopter. I hear the helicopter blades turn on. I hear the wind in the phone.
I stay on the phone as long as I can. I need to call his mom. I need to call my parents. I need to call the boys godparents. I need to rewind time by an hour and stop him from walking out the door. I need to throw up. I need to keep it together. I need to sing Baby Shark.
Eventually they are in flight and he can't hear me. I yell into the phone that I have to hang up, I have to make calls, I'm on the road and right behind him. I make sure to drive the speed limit. I keep my white knuckles at ten and two. I stop myself from screaming. My boys are with me.
He finally hears me. He says he loves me. I say I love him. I disconnect the call. I call my mother in law. I tell her what's happening. She says "I'm on my way."
I call godparents. "We're on our way."
I breathe deeply. I focus on the road. I can't risk an accident.
I make other calls. Many calls. I can't remember them all.
I arrive at the hospital. I park in a spot. I put the boys in their double stroller. I push them into the hospital. I head to the ER first. They direct me to adult surgery. I head there. They tell me he's in the OR. It is now a waiting game.
I spend hours with the boys in the waiting room. They sense something is off. Darkness surrounds us. I try to be a good mom and a terrified wife at the same time. I fail. If one kid isn't crying, the other is. Somehow, I don't. Somehow, I manage. Somehow, we make it through.
My mother-in-law, Cindy, arrives with her partner, Wayne. Godparents, Nancy and Dan, quickly follow suit. My sister-in-law and her boyfriend are next to walk in.
My lungs expand again. I'm not on an island. We can do this.
We wait. We wait and wait and wait.
I receive a text. Surgery is near completion.
We wait.
I receive a text. Patient is in recovery room.
We wait.
I finally am able to see Beau. It feels like it's been decades. He's in recovery. He's awake. He's in agonizing pain. I beg him not to grit his jaw. Breathe in. Breathe out. It's a wave. Let it wash over you. You can do this. You can. You're here. I'm here. I'm so proud of you. I fucking love you.
He needs help. I'm all over the nursing staff, respectful but persistent. They give him pain medication. It doesn't help.
Security arrives with his belongings. They are all covered in blood. I accept a bleach wipe from the nurse to clean Beau's phone. My hands are red afterward. I use a second bleach wipe.
I have to walk out. I have to figure out how to get the boys home. My car. Where is my car? Wayne has been searching for it since he got here. I have no idea what garage I parked it in. Wayne's been at it for hours. No luck. I have to find the car. I have to get our boys home.
I walk outside with Wayne. My veneer starts to crack. The heat and the walking reduce my nervous energy. We find the car. I hold back the sobs.
We go back to the waiting room. We form a plan. Everyone leaves, I stay overnight. Cindy and I will switch in the morning. We get a notification that they are moving Beau from recovery to the ICU.
I head to the ICU. Everyone takes the boys to the car. I learn I can't stay overnight. I have to leave at 9. I'm crushed. I'm desperate. I'm flailing. Let me see my husband.
I learn it will be an hour more. I go get food. I force-feed myself the saddest burger I've ever had. I call Cindy. She decides to stay and ride back with me.
I call one of my best friends and let it all out. She listens. She hears me.
Cindy comes back. We wait in the hospital cafeteria. We soak in our shock. We thank God. We breathe. We do not allow ourselves to cry.
We get a notification that we can go see Beau. We can't get there fast enough. We are let in. We make it to his room. He's awake. He's coherent. He's in agonizing pain. We beg him not to clamp his jaw. Breathe in. Breathe out. Squeeze my hand. Break it if you need to. Give me your pain. I can handle it. We can do this.
We talk to the nurse. We talk to the doctor. We talk to the nurse again. We advocate for pain management. We hold Beau's hand. We do not allow ourselves to cry.
His pain subsides, but not by much. I beg God to let him sleep. He's exhausted.
It's nine o'clock. We have to leave. I ask the nurse if they can help him sleep. He says they will do what they can to keep him comfortable.
His pain continues to subside, slowly but surely. Cindy and I drive home. We go find his car. We bring the keys back. Wayne and Dan go retrieve the car. Cindy, Nancy and I relive the trauma of the day. We stay up too late. Adrenaline won't release us.
I finally fall asleep at 3am. I cuddle Finley in the bed. I wake at 7 to Cindy telling me it's time to go. I panic dress myself. I remember yesterday.
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This is all I can write for now. Any more and my dam will officially crack. Thanks for reading.
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