I've always wondered if I'm a survivor...

Well, as I've mentioned before, I like to learn about survival.  I like to read about people who have been through incredible things because I like to know that we can prevail over life's curveballs.  Today I got tossed a curveball.

And it was, hands down, the scariest moment of my life.

Pumpkin and I went to the farmers market today.  I bought beautiful veggies and shrimp for an amazing stir fry, and some blueberries to make YET ANOTHER round of Lauren's amazing muffins.  Couldn't wait to get home and start chopping!

One mile from my house, Pumpkin was starting to fuss just a little because she was due to eat, and I was thinking it was perfect timing- I'd run in, drop my bag, and feed my girl.  I looked up and shook my head at the Honda CRV in front of me, seeing that he wasn't paying attention and had drifted over the yellow line.  But then, a car rounded the corner, headed straight for him, and he didn't move.  With all of us going around 50 miles per hour, I briefly and gravely thought "This is where I witness two deaths."  There is no way they would have survived.

Then at the last second, the car in the other lane swerved, and the CRV swerved back, too, to get himself in the right lane.  I briefly thought "Thank god."  But then, the other car (turns out it was a dark green Mazda) started turning, spinning, and moving into my lane.  In front of me.  And then her passenger's side slammed at full speed head-on into my Ruby Suby (my wonderful Subaru).

I screamed.  I screamed again.  I felt myself sliding on two wheels and my car tilting up and thought "You need to figure out how to get yourself out of the car and then get your daughter out of the car- and you're going to be UPSIDE DOWN, SO GET READY." There is a study that shows that our brains actually speed-think in these situations, which is why time seems to slow down.  I remember pondering, in that moment, how it might feel to be upside down in my car, focusing on where the door handle would be and where my seatbelt buckle would be.  How I would raise my hands over my head to brace myself.  I was wondering whether I'd have to brake the window to get to Pumpkin.  When we stopped, I stopped screaming, and I realized that I was upright.  We had been stopped by a deep, narrow ditch that kept us from flipping.  That's when I smelled smoke and chemicals and came to the realization that my car might catch fire with my daughter inside.  I freaked out, ran to the other side of the car, and wedged my crying Pumpkin out of her seat through a door that opened about 6 inches.

She was smiling at everyone who stopped to help us within minutes.

A few things that I noticed during this crisis:
* The woman who hit me talked to me.  I don't know what she said, I don't know if she was ok.  I was singularly and completely focused on my daughter.  Nothing else, not even me, mattered.  Luckily, D was able to get to the scene, and I don't remember anything after he got there except climbing in the ambulance to nurse baby girl.  As an aside, it is the only time in four months that I've been grateful for breastfeeding.  But that's a topic for another post.

* My blood pressure in the ambulance was 105/50.  That is the lowest my blood pressure has ever been, save for when I'm pregnant.  I asked the EMT if blood pressure going down is typical in crisis moments.  He basically said no, hardly ever happens.  Isn't it interesting that I was as scared as I've ever been, and my blood pressure was DOWN?  I believe it's because I knew I had to stay calm for my girl.

* When D showed up, he was furious.  The first thing I said to him was "Babe, there is no one here to beat up."  And then I handed him Pumpkin- since I knew she would calm him.  D has always been my rock- I see him as someone who never wavers, who is always steady.  Since I'm not at all that way, I always feel like a liability to him.  I have always thought that, if the chips went down, I wouldn't be a helpful member of our team.  I think that it was good for me to see him behave somewhat irrationally.  In a way, it's validating.  I can contribute, too, to our team.  I can keep HIM steady, if I need to.  I can be a rock, too.  Good to know.

So, bottom line, I hated today.  I hated every minute of the whole situation, and worst I hated that my daughter was in danger.  But there was a little silver lining, too, wasn't there?  A little confidence comes from a really bad situation.  Not a totally negative outcome.

Bye bye, Saint Ruby.  I'll never own anything but a Subaru, for the rest of my life.