[blparent] Perspective

Tue Nov 6 00:46:01 UTC 2012

Oh Jo Elizabeth, I know far too well what you're feeling at this moment.  I had a similar thing happen to me which made my adrenalin run through my body like I was trying to fight against a lion for my baby's life.  One day shortly a few months ago I was playing with my son in our living room.  A friend of mine was over helping me unpack from our recent move into our new apartment with a bigger patio for Dawson.  My friend told me that she had to take her dog out so while she walked-out the door with her dog my son and I continued to play as we had been.  I got up and left my son playing for a moment so I could get something out of the bathroom in our master bedroom.  When I walked back into the living room I didn't hear my son anywhere.  I called for him but heard nothing once again.  I figured he might have gone into our office to look for a toy so I looked in there, but nothing.  I went to check the screen door just to be safe and noticed as I touched it that it was pushed open.  I sighed with relief thinking that my son had just walked-out onto the patio to check-out his new digs.  He was no were to be found but in the distance I could hear his little toddler voice and that's when my heart sank into my stomach.  My husband and I were sure that the bars on our 1st floor patio were too narrow for even the smallest of tots to get through but there I was, trying to figure out where in the world he was.  I few back into the house and ran out the front door to run around our building and hopefully intercept him some ware on the property.  We are in a gated community but people come and go all the time and often times the front main gate is left open for people moving in or out.  As I began down the hall my heart jumped into my throat as I heard my son scream right as a truck on the street squealed to a stop and laid on the horn.  At that moment I pictured my son flying through the air lifeless and I wanted to die.  I screamed out for anyone around me to help and thankfully there was a man in the hall who agreed to run with me and find my son.  I prayed harder than ever as we began down the hall.  We didn't get but a few yards and I heard my friend's voice yelling to me that she had Dawson and that it was okay.  I froze in place completely shocked and confused.  My friend came toward me with my son in her arms and I lunged toward her to snatch him up and hold him tighter than I ever had.  I asked her what had happened and she told me that she took him for a walk because he met her at the front door wanting to go out.  She said that she had yelled into the apartment when she came back from bringing her dog out to let me know that she had him.  My friend thought that she had been loud enough even though she never waited for my reply back to her.  Assuming I heard her, my friend took-off with my son on a walk through our property.  I have to say it was at that moment I never wanted to punch someone in the face so hard and knock them off their feet because my friend was laughing and acting like it was no big deal while telling me to "calm down".  I told her that we need to step into the house and when we did I completely broke-down and began to sob.  It was at that moment my friend realized how very worried I really was and panicked that I couldn't get to my son to save him from potential danger.

I had never been that afraid in all my life but more than anything I never felt so helpless as someone who is blind in all my life.  Things like this happen to sighted parents all the time but a sighted mom could look for her child for quite a distance and run like the wind to try and snatch him up before something happened.  I could run toward my son's voice but who knows what I'd meet on my way and if I'd get to my son in time or not.  My friend was extremely apologetic that day and she learned a huge lesson in clear communication especially since her and her husband are now trying for their first baby and that's what she'd want as a mom in the future.  It took a while for my adrenalin to finally subside back to normal and I just thanked God that nothing had actually happened to my son.  Even though we love our children more than anything, it's moments like that which make us stop and really appreciate them in our lives.

Have a great night.

Erin and boys

-----Original Message-----
From: blparent [mailto:blparent-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jo Elizabeth Pinto
Sent: Monday, November 05, 2012 2:20 PM
To: NFBnet Blind Parents Mailing List
Subject: [blparent] Perspective

I had one of those moments this morning, one of those moments that puts everything into crystal clear perspective, if only for a split second.  Maybe I’m writing it down just to try and process it, since it’s been two and a half hours and I can still feel my heart racing.  I know sighted parents have these moments too, when they look up from examining something in a store and don’t see their kids, or when an ambulance goes screaming by and they glance around to make sure their little ones are safe.  But I think this one did happen because I was blind.

Sarah was riding her three-wheeled Barbie scooter on the sidewalk in front of our townhouse.  I went inside just for a minute or two when nature’s call refused to be ignored.  Then I walked back out onto the porch and called for Sarah to come get her stuff so her dad could take her to school.  She didn’t answer.  I stepped down off the porch and yelled louder, since my bum knee has been slowing me down and I didn’t want to walk back out to where I had left her loading up her scooter with rocks and pine cones under a tree in the neighbor’s front yard so she could bring me the “mail” again.  She still didn’t answer.  She’s supposed to stay on the straight sidewalk that runs in front of our building when she’s riding her bike or scooter unless someone is with her.  I had heard a big truck in the parking lot one house over from mine, and as I yelled again, it began to make the familiar noises of a trash truck.  I started screaming for Sarah, because just for that split second, my mind had me convinced that the sanitation driver hadn’t seen her on her scooter, and she was mashed under that truck.  I don’t even remember running down the sidewalk toward the dumpster, although my knee is now reminding me that I did it.  And there she was with her dad, who had just driven up to take her to school, both of them wondering why I was racing toward them, hysterical.  Dad thinks she didn’t hear me calling because of the truck.  I’m not sure if she didn’t hear or just decided not to answer.  But after they left for school, I sobbed my way through an oversized cup of coffee, two miniature Kit-Kat bars, and one mini-bag of Peanut M&M’s, rattled by what didn’t happen but could have, or what felt for a second like it really happened even though it didn’t.

I guess I’m telling this because I’m still seriously behind with my work, my house is still strewn with toys from one end to the other, my credit card is still maxed out, I still don’t know what I’m going to make for supper tonight—but my daughter didn’t get squashed by a fearsome but perfectly innocent trash truck.  It’s a good day.

Jo Elizabeth

Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you may kick it about all day like a football, and it will be round and full at evening.--Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
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