Fast forward eight years from that night, and I was sitting in the front of a fire engine red Suburban, with my step daughter Syd, my niece Shauntyl, Kinley, Whitney, and tiny baby Brighton in the back. That's right, five kids in five years of marriage because of our situation. I was 25 years old.
On our way to Ally's house, the kids chatted in the back - and Brighton, our baby at the time was snuggled up in her car seat, no doubt ready for her next meal. We were on a time crunch though, and I knew we needed to get there soon. When we finally arrived, we pulled up in front of her darling house, and went inside to say hi.
"Ok Ally, how are we going to do this? We have all these kids, and they will just be in the way as Jon and Mike clean the carpets."
She pointed to the motor home sitting in front of her house on the road. "Why don't we just hang out in there until they are done?" she offered.
It was a great idea! They kids were excited about the adventure, and they all hurried inside to find their favorite spot. "I get this chair!" yelled Kinely. "I get the couch!" yelled another. We were proud of ourselves for creating such an adventure, right in their front yard. We sat down right in the mist of them all, and I began to nurse Brighton. She had waited long enough to be fed and was getting fussy.
There was a TV set up in the motor home, that sat up on top of the bed above the drivers seats. It was one of those big televisions that used to be the size of a box, not the flat screens we have now. It was playing "101 Dalmatians - 2" for us, a welcome distraction so the mommies could catch up on life. Kinley jumped up and said, "Now I want to sit over there!" and ran across the motor home to the back bed that looked so inviting, and Whitney slide into the swivel chair with a big grin on her face.
I missed Ally. We have memories that go back as far as we can remember - and it was so fun to dig in and laugh at years gone by. We played at Grandma Janes as kids, I stayed over at her house when we were little, we went on trips to Lake Powell - Flaming George - Jackson Hole. We ended up in High School together, dancing at the stomps and dressing up in camo for fun on weekends to spy on people. It was also Ally the moved down to college with me. I actually went to UVCC because she was going there, because we would be roommates. Funny how that one decision decided my entire life.
At some point in our catching up conversation, nursing, glancing at the kids, and the TV - it happened. Without a cause, that enormous TV tilted and fell five feet from it's resting place - and hit my three year old Whitney, on the face. She was sitting right below it on the chair, and she didn't have a chance to move because it happened so fast. I screamed as terror racked through my body and soul. I set baby Brighton down on the couch beside me. I dove for my Whitney, as the television laid below her feet. It had rolled off from the impact and the angle of her body in the chair.
My Whitney was screaming. I was in shock. My world stopped, and I felt as though I was spinning out of control. I scooped her up into my shaking arms, and looked into her tiny face. It was covered in blood, and her nose was split open from the center of the bridge, all the way through her top lip. I was nauseous, and held her close. I stumbled out of the motor home, holding her in my arms with my hand over her face trying to hold down the bleeding, and screamed...
Even over the loud carpet cleaning machines, he heard me. It was the sound of a frantic mother. A sound I have never since heard coming out of my mouth. It was almost guttural - a call from my soul. Everything was a blur, and I feared from my Noo Noo's life. I couldn't lose her... Jon ran out of the house with a terrified look on his face and yelled, "WHAT HAPPENED!!?" I started explaining and crying all at the same time as we ran for our car. Jon opened that door to the back seat of the car, and I climbed in to sit, clinging to Whitney. This was one time I was grateful that Jon is a skilled, fast driver. He only slowed at the stop lights to check for safety, and then drove through. As we traveled, I explained through sobs what had happened. How the TV was pushed way back on top of the bed and nothing at all bumped it or pulled the cord. How maybe it was just front heavy, and caused it to roll off.
"It's okay Whitney. It will be okay..." I tried to console her, even though my heart felt like her face looked, broken beyond repair. She cried in my arms, the sound was gut wrenching. She was in pain, and I was helpless.
We pulled up in front of Davis Hospital in about eight minutes, and got out of the car. We walked straight into the emergency room and asked for help. The nurses saw Whitney, and rushed us into the doctors office. I began filling out paperwork with my shaking hand, as the nurses tried to console Whitney. It wasn't working. She wanted mom.
They explained to me that they would need to take x-rays of her skull to make sure there wasn't any brain damage, before they could do anything to fix her face. This seemed fair enough, but I had no idea what that would entail. First of all, Whitney was inconsolable and terrified as they tried to check her vital signs. "Mrs. Moss, did Whitney pass out when the TV hit her face?" he asked. "ummm, no - I don't think so - no." I stammered. "Ok, well that is at least a good thing."
Whitney's face was swelling as we spoke. It became so large around her blueberry colored eyes, and her tiny freckles. My baby was unrecognizable. Part of me wanted to run away from all the bright lights and people, and just rock with her on our chair at home...but I couldn't. We were stuck in a reality I couldn't alter.
"Mrs. Moss, maybe if you leave the room, Whitney will calm down so we can get some x-rays taken." I knew this idea wouldn't go over well, but I was determined to try anything to get her checked out. I left. Whitney's screams became louder and louder. After about thirty minutes, they gave up and had me come back in. "Mrs. Moss, we are going to give her some medicine that will help her calm down so we can take the x-rays." I agreed, and watched helplessly. The shot needle came out, and all hope of any calming was out of the question. The medicine wasn't working. We decided to try to take the pictures anyway, but after several failed attempts - they gave up because she wouldn't hold still. They came over with another shot, and gave her a second dose. She calmed a bit, but started hallucinating.
"MOM..." "MOM...." she called to me across the room. They decided to put an xray apron over me, so maybe they could get the pictures. I walked over and held her tiny hand. "Mommies here. You will be ok." trying to comfort her, as Jon had been trying to comfort me minutes earlier. "MOM..." her laughter began..."MOOOOOMMMMMMMM..... YOU HAVE TWO NOSES!!!" I glanced at Jon with huge eyes, silently searching for some help. "MOOOOMMMMM...!!!!!" Her laughter turned into screams.
We were done. We were getting no answers. After lots of tries, we finally got enough still shots for the doctor to asses that her brain hadn't been damaged, which was an enormous relief. I was weak, tired, and helpless. They told us that they needed to stitch up her face, as Whitney continued to scream. So many hours of her screaming had run us all ragged. We wanted to help her, but there was nothing we could do. Jon, being the problem solver that he is, pipped up and said,
"We are going to Primary Children's Medical Center. I want her face stitched up by an expert." I think they were shocked, but as I look back, I am grateful for Jon making this decision. I was too worn out to think straight. Jon went and got the car, picked us up and drove like a bat out of Hell to the world renowned hospital, Primary Children's Medical Center, in Salt Lake City, Utah. When we rushed in, they were shocked that the other hospital hadn't insisted on us taking the ambulance. We explained that they weren't very good at anything they did, and they just nodded their heads.
At this point, our luck changed. They sweet nurses brought Whitney over a stuffed animal, and we could hear soothing music playing in the background. As we checked in, there were Disney videos playing and sweet speaking people, calming helping us get settled. They were quick, and efficient as well. We were taken into a surgical room, and assured that one of the best surgeons in the country would be piecing Whitney's face back together.
You can imagine my shock and pleasure, as a darling young Japanese woman came in and introduced herself. She proceeded to tell us what steps she would take, and offered us some chairs to watch if we wanted to stay. She quickly gave Whitney a shot that make her fall asleep as I held her hand. Then she draped a large paperweight cloth over her entire body, with a hole cut out laying right over her nose and mouth.
I watched as she rolled up a small chair, sat down and threaded the needle accurately the first time. Obviously something she had done time and time again with precision. She slid up, legs apart as to get really close to the bed - and began stitching, like her skin was a patchwork quilt. Jon was immediately intrigued, and I was feeling like I was going to lose my lunch. "I'll just step outside..." I muttered, and shuffled into the hall. I watched through the rectangular window every so often when I felt bold.
I couldn't believe how fast it was all over. My emotions were raw. We had been up all night long, and it was close to sun up. My family visited, and gave her a blessing of quick recovery. I felt so grateful that I hadn't lost my child. I felt humbled from my lack of response to my promptings to stay home. People often ask me how I hear answers, or why I am so in tune. I would mark this event as a turning toward listening to the spirit. I have since made course corrections when I feel uneasy, even if I think the thought might be coming from myself. It's just safer that way. I thank my Heavenly Father for my children, each one. They are all a blessing. My heart beats outside of my body, in each of them.
They are my light, and my life.
These were taken about a week after the accident, the best picture I could find. All of our old pictures were taken on disposable cameras, nothing close to the pictures now.
Later that summer. Now you can barely see a faint line if you look close at Whitney's face. It's amazing the recovery she made.