We are back from an incredible, wonderful trip to Paris and settling in. Doing laundry, getting food in the house, resting, and going through hundreds of emails (I decided to be completely internet-free for the week) and messages, editing pictures from the trip, etc. But it’s slow-going, because we had quite a time trying to get home.
First let me say: everyone is fine. But my nerves are shot and I have been on the verge of tears for the last two days. After a very long day of travel (we had to be up at 5am Paris-time to catch a train to the airport, then take separate 9-hour flights back to the states, where I then hopped on another plane to Columbus, then drove another 2 hours to Cincinnati to meet up with Andrew’s mom and the boys), I spent the night at my in-laws and awoke early the next morning to start our next day of travel: the 6-hour drive back to St. Louis with my boys where we would finally reunite as a whole family. I was feeling surprisingly well-rested, despite the previous day of craziness and a wakeful night. I had Andrew’s 14-year-old sister Katie with me, who I was planning to drop off on our way out of town, and Milo, Oliver, and Emil all tucked into carseats and a booster.
About 30 minutes into the drive, we got into a car accident. It was so sudden, so unexpected, like these things are, that it left me reeling. I was driving in the left lane on an interstate with two lanes going in each direction in a fairly rural part of Ohio, when the car in front of me braked hard. I then saw that directly in front of him was another car that appeared to be turning left, though her car was still fully in the fast lane of the road (I later found out through the police officer that she was a student driver who had missed her turn going to the DMV to take her driver’s test, and had decided to do a u-turn in the middle of heavy traffic). I braked hard, saying to Katie and the boys, “Hold on hold on hold on!” and then nearly let out my relieved breath when we stopped a foot away from the car…
But then I looked in the rearview mirror.
Three cars behind were careening toward our car. I heard the screeching of brakes and braced myself for the inevitable hit. The first car hit our van so hard, pieces of plastic, metal, and glass came flying toward the front of the van, seemingly in slow motion. We were hit again, and pushed into the car in front of us. Smoke and a loud hissing sound and complete quiet, then Milo screaming and crying. He kept screaming, “My head! My head!” and I remember turning off the engine, leaping out of the car and almost falling on the broken glass surrounding us as I ran to the other side, trying to open a door, any door, to get to him. I was screaming for someone to call 911 and saw the man of the small car who had crashed into the back of us stumble out, looking disoriented and in shock. Two cars behind him had also crashed, but the worst seemed to be in the middle, right where we were.
Out in the middle of the road, alone amidst all the glass and debris was Emil’s blue baby bottle, tipped onto its side.
I finally forced the back passenger door open as far as it would go with the help from a stranger who had stopped to help and quickly assessed that no one in the car was bleeding or unconscious, but Emil had started crying and Milo was confused and clearly in pain and just terrified. My head was swimming and pounding, my left lower leg was starting to really hurt, and the place where my seatbelt had restrained me was burning and angry red, but I was okay. I was shaking hard and trying not to cry, but the gravity of what had happened, what could have happened was hitting me like a freight train and I couldn’t help sobbing. I turned away so my boys and Katie wouldn’t see, and took a deep breath to try to get it together enough for them. I was the adult. I needed to take care of them. Do this later.
The paramedics came and carefully transferred Milo to a stretcher and onto the ambulance before taking a look at me and telling me that I didn’t look so good and would I lay back onto a stretcher too… I wasn’t too keen on the idea of relinquishing control of my kids and Katie and splitting up into two ambulances, but frankly there wasn’t much choice and I found myself staring at the ceiling of an ambulance into a bright light while tears involuntarily ran down my cheeks. I knew everyone was fine, including me. But all I could see, eyes open or closed, was the view I had seen in the rearview mirror only moments before. All I could feel was the dread of the inevitable impact. The view was nauseating: my two oldest boys, only 5 and 3, their unknowing faces framing what only I could see- a danger so great racing toward them and threatening to end every bit of happiness in my life- and I was helpless to stop it. They were back there, in the direct line of fire, and I was 6 feet away, completely unable to throw my body between them and death. They could have died.
After being checked and x-rayed and scanned at the hospital, we were given instructions to ice and rest and lightly medicate. Andrew’s oldest brother Billy drove us to the wrecking company where our van had been towed so that we could try to retrieve our luggage from the trunk and anything else that might be salvageable. Andrew’s mom picked up a very sore and shaken-up Katie, and we made plans to check up on each other later.
When we arrived at the wrecking company and spotted the van, I was floored. I hadn’t remembered it looking that bad at the scene, but there it was. Completely and utterly totaled. The entire back end was crushed into a v-shape, the undercarriage of the van jutting forward slightly and crookedly to one side. The back passenger door was still wide open, jammed that way forever, waiting for the rain to come wash away all the broken glass and jagged bits of plastic that covered every surface.
Above is a picture of the back of the van taken from the wrecking yard- you can see the back window of the van at the top of the photo, which shattered upon impact, and the bumper is completely crushed against the back seats of the car.
We climbed into the stifling hot car, crunching glass under our shoes, and did our best to clear a spot enough to lean down and see what we could find. All of our clothes, shoes, and personal belongings were pinned inside the wreckage. After several anguishing attempts to pull anything out, I cut my hand on a sliver of glass and shook my head, stepping back ready to give up. But Billy kept going, wiggling and pulling until he came up with a shoe from my bag. It was one from my very favorite pair of shoes: Rachel Comey clogs that I had coveted for months before finally selling enough clothing to be able to afford. Sadly, the impact cracked the wooden sole nearly in half. To care about such a thing after being spared nearly my entire immediate family seemed so stupid, but I did. It sucked.
But Billy kept at it. One shirt, one pair of underwear (how embarrassed would you be to have your brother-in-law hand you a pair of your own dirty underwear???), one broken, bent shoe (my beloved Hudson ankle boots are probably beyond saving as well) after another, he handed me my entire duffel bag full of clothing… including, to my amazement, an intact bottle of red wine I had brought back from France for my mom. I worked on the other side, pulling out Emil’s shirts, shorts, diapers, wipes, and shoes. But Milo and Oliver lost nearly their entire summer wardrobe, including underwear and new unopened toys their grandma had packed for them. Unlucky middle. Their bags were pinned completely between the steel, there was no wiggle room to free even a tee shirt. A few gifts were completely demolished, leaving the residue from chocolate truffles covering my hands every time I reached in. The souvenir suitcases Andrew and I had collected for the boys were completely crushed or smashed, their little metal handles and buckles in pieces. But.
We’re alive.
Andrew arrived in Ohio exactly 6 hours after the accident, taking Emil in his arms and hugging him to his body while Emil looked curiously into his face. He had already forgotten.
I spent an hour on the phone with insurance agents and policemen. Then we celebrated being alive with Billy and Annie. Annie and I went out for a beer when we picked up food for our families that evening and I could have kissed her on the mouth I was so happy to be there with her.
After dinner, Andrew and I traded cars with his mom (he handed over our Civic for her van) and we headed for home, finally. Just before 10pm, Andrew appeared to be fading fast behind the wheel. He had spent the entire day worrying about us and driving toward us, and here he was back in the car, headed in the opposite direction. And so, though it was more terrifying than I can say, I got back behind the wheel of yet another vehicle, and drove us the rest of the way home. What do you do when you fall off the horse, after all?
I am slowly editing and weeding out Paris pictures, and hope to post them over the course of the next several days, but easing back into blogging is feeling like work. There is so much to do around here apart from this virtual world: aside from the rush to find and buy a new car, a huge tree limb fell onto our back fence hours before we left for our trip, and now we have to deal with that, plus mountains of yard work and tending to the garden and registering Milo for kindergarten and follow-up doctor’s appointments and vaccinations… all the things that make life so busy day to day, all the responsibilities we skirted in order to have this wonderful trip.
I am feeling lucky and watched over, and plan to revel in gratefulness that my family is intact. I know that so many others are not so lucky. Be safe, and hug those babies.
Oh this just makes me weep. Well, first of all welcome home, you were missed… but what an unbelievably scary and awful way to return. I am so relieved that you are all safe and healthy.
A car accident is literally my worst fear. I waited until I was 25 to get my liscence because the thought of manning this powerful and potentially deadly vehicle was so intimidating. It’s something we all do everyday, sometimes only half paying attention as we hand our kids a snack or sit in traffic… and yet with one little move… it’s terrifying.
I can’t imagine how rattled you must be, take the time you need getting back here and focus on that beautiful family. Losing the material stuff does suck too. It’s nothing when put into perspective, but what a bummer. I’m looking forward to hearing about your trip when you do have the time… so sorry this happened and breathing a sigh that you’re all okay.
I follow your blog religiously, and I was so thrown reading of your accident. I am very thankful not one member of your gorgeous family was hurt. God was merciful to be sure! xoxo take one thing at a time and take help from anyone that will give you some as you try to accomplish all that’s on your to-do list 🙂
Oh Lauren! I’m so glad you’re OK. This is terrifying…..Sending love your way, dear friend. And hugs to those little boys.
xoxo
I am so sorry, Lauren. Thank goodness you are all safe, but what an awful experience!
Thank goodness your are all ok….I hope you can heal and slowly move back into your daily world….I’m so sorry for your losses.
I am so glad you are all well (at least physically)! Take your time to heal and process what happened, we can wait for the Paris pictures a while longer!
I held my breath almost the entire time while reading your description of the accident. Such an awful experience…
How terrifying! Lauren I am so sorry this happened to you and your family and that it happened at the end of such a wonderful trip for you and Andrew. I’m glad everyone is ok and that you had family close by to help you.
When you feel ready, have fun shopping for your new wardrobe. I can’t wait to see what amazing things you find.
Hugs to all of you!
Amy
Oh, Lauren — what a terrible way to come home from vacation! So, so relieved to hear that everyone is alright; now that the worst is safely behind you, it’s only natural to be bummed and stressed about all the other little things… I hope you find some time to relax and recuperate with your family this week!
Just reading this makes me tearful. I am so thankful you are all okay and that it didn’t turn out so much worse. And losing your things totally blows. It’s okay to be frustrated about that.
No doubt this will be one of the most memorable weeks ever for you.
I hope you’re all healing and recovering, and hope that the rest of your summer is super uneventful. 🙂
Oh Lauren! I’m so sorry! Car accidents are the worst. I’m so glad Bill and Annie were there to help take care of you. They always have a way of making bad situations better. Can I do anything to help? The boys are more than welcome to come over and play if you want to buy a car kid free!
Lauren, Ugh what a way to end a vacation, so grateful to hear that you all are ok and had family nearby to help pick up the pieces. A good reminder for us all how quickly things can change, thank god you and the boys are ok. Kuddos to yku for getting behind the wheel again so soon, a great example for your boys! Sending healing and relaxing thoughts your way.
Wow – what a harrowing story. I’m so glad to hear everyone is ok and that you are working through adjusting to being home safe and sound. It does suck to lose those favorite material things that bring such joy. Here’s hoping some new finds help to bring back that joy.
Wishing you a restful weekend and holiday.
Oh my gosh. I was in tears reading this. Oh my gosh. I am so so so glad you and your boys are okay. There is nothing more terrifying than the thought of losing something so precious over something so small as driving. We think of it as small but it’s so entirely dangerous but we do it so often
In January my husband was hit by a car while walking OUTSIDE of his car… the person just passed out and veered off of a busy road and totaled his car and hit him. HIT HIM. I got the phone call from his boss over the phone to go to the hospital and I almost dropped Lotus from shock. All I could think was “I can’t do this alone!! Not my best friend!” It’s SO scary. I feel with you so much.
It does suck about the material things too. Those things bring us happiness as well maybe on a smaller level but I am sorry you had so much loss here. At least the most important things are alive and well.
I hope you are able to recover and move past it. It took my husband months before he would even walk NEAR a street and that was tough but he is better now almost 5 months later.
I am so sorry your sweet trip had to end like this but I am so happy to hear that you are all okay. So happy.
Thank you, everyone! I am feeling just about 100% back to normal today, and it feels like it all happened weeks ago, not days.
Jamie, we are still early in the process of car buying (ugh), but I will absolutely let you know if we need help. Thank you so much for offering, not that your plate is empty in any way!
And Danielle, holy cow! That sounds terrifying and horrible. I am so glad you didn’t lose your husband. We have almost been hit by cars turning right onto a parkway we cross daily on our way to dropping the boys off at preschool. People are looking left to see if they can turn, and don’t even look for pedestrians walking across the street with the walk sign. It’s terrifying, especially when we have our kids with us. Life can change in an instant. I’m so grateful for today.
Oh my god. What a scary, horrible, terrifying way to end a trip. I’m so glad you’re ok!!!
Gosh, Lauren I am in tears reading about your terrifying experience. So glad every one is o.k. We totaled a car with Jen and Shawn back in 1980. We were all o.k., but so scarry. We were also hit from behind. There is just no way that you can prepare for it. It just happens so fast. I hope the rest of your summer is better.
Lauren, we have never met, and only know one an another from our blogs and writings to one another, but I feel connected. I am so very glad you and your family are alright. What a horrific thing to happen. Like others, I was in tears reading this, because you are so right…all things could be changed in an instance.
((hugs)) to you and your boys!
Thanks, Annie. I feel the same about you, darling!
I’d be happy to do it Lauren! Elizabeth would love the company and our backyard could use more kids in it! Just let me know.
Lauren! I am so, so sorry that you had to go through this. I read this, this morning and I was totally shaken for the day. I am just so grateful that you and your family are ok! Sending positive energy your way and hoping that you are able to get all of your affairs in order quickly! And, I get it about the shoes. What you wear becomes a part of you (and your readers too!) Sending lots of love!
Heartwrenching Lauren. I’m just glad you’re all safe. Please be well.
Wow. This had my heart in my throat as I read your recount. So glad you are all okay. XO.
Welcome home!
Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re all okay! Wow, reading this I felt so emotional for you know, a family I don’t really “know”, holding my breath bracing for the worst. So. I’m so darn happy you’re all okay clogs not withstanding. I also want to add that in the coming days and weeks, make sure to check in with your little ones emotions about the accident, which I’m sure you’d do anyway, ‘cos you’re such an awesome mom. I say this only because my mother and I were in a car accident, similar to yours when I was about 9 and while physically unharmed, I was a little traumatized by the event, without really even knowing it. I had nightmares about it for years and it took me a long time to not be nervous in cars. Anyways, so many prayers and good thoughts your way, my dear.
sending a hundred virtual hugs! so horrible that you had to experience that, but glad you are all ok!
Lauren, you have an amazingly healthy perspective that I admire and can appreciate. Having lost a toddler sister to a car, I know that you know that you are right: you are a lucky one. But the sheer fright and helplessness you and your family experienced… and the timing of the accident… I really feel for you! Thankfully, this fiasco is now a page in your history book. You are strong. Welcome home!
Oh, Erika! I am so sorry. What an unimaginable loss. I just can’t imagine.
And Milla, thank you for your fresh perspective. Our kids’ behavior has been absolutely atrocious for the past two days. I may need to spend an extra lot of time reassuring, loving, hugging, and talking to them. Sometimes they seem so resilient, but really they could just be hiding a lot of it. Good to know.
Oh I’m in tears! I held my breath your whole story and even though I only know your family from your amazing blog and a few emails, I can’t help.. but my heart dropped! But SOooo glad you guys are on the mend. You are one strong mama. Hugs from across the sea. xx
Reading the details of the accident – so eloquently written, mind you – made me at once nauseous and tearful. Thank god you all are okay. Thank god. Thank god. Thank god.
I am so thankful everyone is alright. It’s simply terrifying how much of our children’s safety is out of our control. I hope you all heal quickly, both physically and mentally.
I’m shaking from reading your story. SO glad you and the boys are OK, Lauren. I can’t imagine! Looking forward to reading about your Parisian vacation and wishing you and Andrew a calm, relaxing weekend!
Oh my, Lauren! This had to have been such a terrifying experience. I am so grateful that you and your family are well.
Squeeze ’em tight. Hugs.
oh, this left me breathless and tearful. so, SO happy to hear that everyone is okay.
My heart breaks for you and your having to endure this experience, but I am also so glad to know everyone is physically okay. I have so much anxiety surrounding driving and highways and I can’t even imagine…
I am glad to know you had such a fabulous trip though and I hope you are able to separate the trip and accident into separate occurrences, with one not casting too many shadows on the other. Hope you and all four of your guys are doing well.
I never wrote about it, but earlier this spring, a speeding car ran a red light as I was turning left into their lane on my green left turn signal. I quickly swerved to avoid that super speeding car hitting my Daniel. I know he would have died. That gut sick hold my breath monster headache I got that day came back when I read your trauma.
What a horror. I am relieved for you. I hope your training in social work helps minimize the trauma your kids experience as result. I am confident you will lead them to peace as you come to terms, too.
Lauren, what a shock to read this when I came back to your blog today. I’m so, so glad nothing worse happened to you. My husband’s older son was in a car accident a week ago as well and though got out with “just” three back fractures, one of his friends died of internal bleedings. It feels horrible to be grateful that it wasn’t our boy, and yet we are, of course. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for that poor boy’s family and friends. It’s been said by others, but it makes you realize how fragile our happiness is. Take good care of yourself and your wonderful family, and enjoy a quiet Sunday.
Glad you all are back together and home safely. And weirdly, glad we got that hour at the bar despite your life being so disrupted at the time. Love you guys.
Even as someone who doesn’t know you “personally”, I said a silent prayer to God thanking him for saving you and your precious boys. He is merciful.
I hope that this doesn’t tarnish your memories of your beautiful trip! And that it brings you and your boys and closer together in spirit.
Sending lots of love your way!
Sorry to hear about your ordeal and glad it’s past you. This might be too soon, but as I was eagerly searching for the Rachel Comey Echo clogs, I found your blog. Just in case you were interested in replacing them or your insurance might, I found them still available here:
7.5 and up – http://www.shoppenelopes.com/Product/Rachel+Comey+echo+platform
7.5 and 9 –
http://www.luvocracy.com/satsukishibuya/recommendations/rachel-comey–2
and this Canadian boutique has them in a size 9.5 only for less than $200 according to instagram/facebook (webstore isn’t working) – http://shop-at-violet.myshopify.com/products/echo-shoe-by-rachel-comey
Best to you and yours!
Thank you so much, Scarlet! It is so kind of you to look for those shoes for me. Unfortunately, I am a size 7 and everywhere seems to be sold out of them. You know, I have still worn them a few times despite the huge crack. I don’t know if anyone notices, but I love them so dearly!