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02/25/2008
Winter, wiener, wonder
Last Sunday night Paul and I went out for sushi. The weather was lousy, rainy with a temperature hovering just above freezing, but we left Charlie at the mercy of the babysitter (or vice versa) and went anyway, desperate for a break in a relentless two-week stretch of limit-testing, tantrum-hurling, and classic asshole three-year-olding.
As I drove us home, I kept up a fretful monologue about my family — my worries about my aunt's health, which may never improve a great deal. The increasing age of my grandmother, who's currently sole caregiver for my aunt. The pressure my mother is facing, regardless of what happens next.
And as I talked, the temperature abruptly dropped, turning the surface of the highway into a sheet of ice. I wasn't speeding and I wasn't changing lanes, but the road was suddenly so fatally slick that the car fishtailed. Once, twice, a few more times, and then went into a spin. It went a little like this:
(Alas, I do not actually drive a Wienermobile. I used that picture solely to reassure you. Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes possibles, goes the primary tenet of Optimism: Everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. A corollary to this cheering principle holds that any post featuring a Wienermobile must have a happy ending. Go on, prove me wrong.)
We spun. I did not slam on the brakes. We did not hit the guard rail. We did not hurtle into the Jersey barrier. The car behind us had ample time and room to stop without then sliding into us. As I remembered something I'd heard once and turned the wheel into the direction of OH MY FUCKING CHRIST, I braced myself for the sound of wrenching metal and breaking glass, and it did not happen.
We just...stopped.
And everything was okay.
"Put on your flashers. Put on your flashers. Put on your flashers," Paul chanted to me as I hyperventilated. I did, and then put the car into park and took a few seconds to collect myself. Because OH MY FUCKING CHRIST, that was almost really bad.
And then I slowly backed the car into the correct lane, facing forward, and put it into drive. Slowly. We crawled the remaining 20 miles. Even driving so slowly, the car fishtailed again, earning a terrified "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," from a driver whose heart was still thudding. And then we fishtailed again; by that time it merited only an annoyed, "Oh, for fuck's sake," because how stupid was it going to be to survive the previous highway spin only to die half a mile from home?
We did not die. We weren't hurt. Our car wasn't damaged in the slightest. I didn't even vomit in panic, largely because I was too scared to pull over. It was all improbably fine.
We got home, paid the babysitter, and begged her to be careful. I got undressed, cried a little, and went into Charlie's room to see that he was comfortable. He was sleeping soundly but he'd pushed off his cover, so I pulled it up around him. He surprised me by saying, in a cheerful daytime tone, "Thanks," and burrowing into the blanket, without ever waking up. And I cried a little more, thinking about how improbable everything was. What a jackass he'd been awake, and how sweet he was unconscious. How lucky we were to be unhurt, how much worse it could have been for my mother. How fragile we are, and how mysteriously resilient.
On the highway, once I'd composed myself and put the car back into drive, the words that bubbled up had been, "I have never been so scared in my life." But I didn't say them because I realized as soon as I thought them that they weren't true. The most frightened I've been in my life was after Charlie's birth, and the couple of nights when we thought he wouldn't live. The spin was ten minutes of terror. The other has yet to stop scaring me.
I have been thinking about Alexa and Simone. After reading one of her posts I commented that she would worry for a long time to come, but that the worry would come with wonder. I wished that wonder for her. Consider the scariest experience you've ever had; that's what they've been facing, plus. But also think of that "Thanks" in the night, the pinprick of tears of surprise, the surge of disbelieving gratitude. That is what's in store, what still makes me weak in the knees three years later. Impossible world-shaking wonder.
Posted by Julie at 08:21 PM in I've learned a lot...but I'm not sure it's worth it. | Permalink
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Comments (82)
What? First comment?
Julie--you write such poetry!
Posted by: Jen at Feb 25, 2008 8:30:57 PM
I'm so grateful you're OK.
Posted by: Shelley at Feb 25, 2008 8:34:41 PM
As with so many of your posts, I'm speechless.
Posted by: Paula at Feb 25, 2008 8:49:06 PM
This winter seems to have lasted a thousand years. I've had my fill of it. So glad you're ok.
Posted by: Amy at Feb 25, 2008 8:59:14 PM
I had a similar experience a few years ago, taking a turn too fast on a rain-slicked road. My car spun completely 180 degrees across four lanes of traffic and a Brinks truck had to pull off the road to get out of my way. I had the same experience as you -- when I realized the car was no longer under my control, I saw the guardrail coming at me, and I resigned myself to the crash, but then, miraculously, my car ended up parallel to the guardrail. Scared but grateful describes it.
Posted by: Lisa at Feb 25, 2008 9:16:00 PM
Wow, how scary!
So glad everyone is OK!
Posted by: moo at Feb 25, 2008 9:31:11 PM
Thank heavens you're okay!
It's not nearly the same, but I got hit by a car once on my bike and was fine. I still have a chill run down my spine when I get on that bike and it's not even the same one.
Posted by: Audrey at Feb 25, 2008 9:34:58 PM
I was reading when Charlie was born and I was so happy when he got to go home. I am constantly checking on beautiful Simone. I will be so happy when she is able to go home from the NICU too.
I am so glad you and Paul (and baby) are safe.
Posted by: Melissa in TN at Feb 25, 2008 9:35:29 PM
I am so glad you are ok. Things like that are such an all-points sphincter check.
I remember reading you when Charlie was born and it felt to me like I was standing at the edge of a cliff and watching your life go right off that edge. It's kind of amazing to me that I vicariously witnessed it, much less that you have lived through it. So now what are you gonna do Julie? I think the answer is obvious.
Strut.
Posted by: anne nahm at Feb 25, 2008 9:55:25 PM
Why are you calling your 3 year old son an asshole and a jackass? I'm so glad you're bringing another child into that loving atmosphere.
Posted by: Miranda at Feb 25, 2008 9:56:25 PM
Just beautiful and true. Thank you, and I'm glad you're all okay.
Posted by: Madame Meow at Feb 25, 2008 9:59:27 PM
Oh jeez, Miranda. You need a good dose of Sense of Humor, hopefully administered in suppository form.
Posted by: anne nahm at Feb 25, 2008 10:07:42 PM
So glad you're all okay.
I needed a story like that right now. Phew. Thanks. And damn, winter can just GO AHEAD AND END NOW.
Perhaps Miranda hasn't experienced the average three year old?
Posted by: Danell at Feb 25, 2008 10:13:46 PM
I'm glad you and Paul are okay. Skids like that, being so out of control...I think that is one of the scariest parts of driving at any time of the year.
Alexa and Simone have been on my mind often and often, as well. And while I send my comfort as best I may, I am glad that she has you with your wealth of knowledge and experience to drape your virtual arm around her shaking shoulders. There's nothing like holding the hand of someone who's been there.
xo
Posted by: Flicka at Feb 25, 2008 10:25:54 PM
Very glad you are both okay. Guess sushi's off the menu for a while (heh)?
I have had several traffic incidents similar to what you experienced last night, some my foolish fault, some nature's fault. And as scared as I was every time I thought glass and metal would do me in, they don't compare at all to when I was in labor, they thought the baby was in distress and couldn't find his heartbeat for about 30 full seconds.
Yes, it still sends chills down my spine as I sit here remembering the "no, no, no, no, no's" I murmured as I stared terrified at the nurse. She found the heartbeat, the boy made it out in due time and under only minor distress, but I will never, ever forget the fear that crept up quick as ice water when I thought he wasn't there anymore.
You're right too, how terrifying and wonderful it is when your little person makes everything around you a little brighter and more awesome.
Posted by: clarabella at Feb 25, 2008 10:26:43 PM
Wai-wai-wait. Pregnant lady went out for sushi? What, are you trying to kill us all?
That aside, beautiful essay about life's fragility and richness.
I'd never read Alexa's blog before, and I just waded through five months' worth ofher story. Wow. I hope baby Simone and her parents get past the era of terror soon.
Julie, both you and Alexa have a magical touch with combining human tragedies and joys and a hearty dose of black humor. I wish you were both writing your stories in book form!
Posted by: Orange at Feb 25, 2008 10:32:25 PM
Julie - you leave me speechless. What a beautiful post!
Posted by: Nicole at Feb 25, 2008 10:41:56 PM
Referring to a (young) child as a 'jackass' is somehow funny?
I'm guessing that it'd be just as comical to refer to you as a jackass as well? Or no, it wouldn't be since you're an adult and realize how ugly it is, right? Silly me, I forget, your sense of humor only allows for calling a three year old that! Ha, now I see how funny it is!
Ignorance breeds ignorance, and it's trashy to call a child a jackass or an asshole. Period.
Posted by: Miranda at Feb 25, 2008 10:44:47 PM
Thanks for the help!
Posted by: Julie at Feb 25, 2008 10:48:50 PM
Ahh life...man oh man!!
As previously mentioned, I, too, can't wait for this winter to end. Here in the Chicago area, we are currently facing our 9,000th storm (exaggerated only slightly for emphasis)
Glad you are all ok...hope the adrenaline rush is out of your system! Be safe!
Posted by: Angela at Feb 25, 2008 11:00:01 PM
So glad you all are okay!
"Impossible world-shaking wonder." A part of me wants to roll my eyes and say pshaw, parents are so freaking dramatic, with all your it's like nothing else on earth and people without children could never understand. Sometimes I wonder if it's something parents have to continually convince themselves of, the ecstasy of the secret cult of parenthood.
But yet, yet. Yet I must believe you all, or I wouldn't be emptying my heart and wallet and shooting up my bum for a chance, just a chance of having the same.
Posted by: Ninotchka at Feb 25, 2008 11:09:55 PM
Wait, I thought the sign of Good Parenthood was our mad, unshakeable love for our children when they are being assholes. Are we supposed to be doing some beatific Raphaelite smiles through rosy clouds instead?
Anyway, Wow, once again, to Julie, and best of luck with the shooting up to Ninotchka.
Posted by: Slim at Feb 25, 2008 11:21:06 PM
Jesus!! I'm so glad you're both OK.
I remember driving up that hill to your house.. the one off the main road.. and thinking to myself. "No.fucking.way.would.I.be.able.to.do.this.in.winter". LOL
And as usual, your post made me sob.
Posted by: BrendaS at Feb 25, 2008 11:26:58 PM
I don't have NICU experience, since my lost ones didn't make it that far. And so I really only relate to the car accident.
Which sounds very much like the car accidents I had right before my boys were each born, the ones that tore my placentas and almost killed them. Or maybe more like the one that did end my pregnancy with my daughter.
I'm sitting here feeling sick reading this, knowing you are fine, but wishing you would go get an ultrasound. Hell, now I want to get another ultrasound for my pregnancy because you had an accident. I'm projecting of course, but would you understand if I said that for me, car accidents are a hundred times more terrifying than any NICU scene? And that an isolette always seems safer than my crappy uterus + any car combined?
I'm glad you are okay.
Posted by: Aurelia at Feb 25, 2008 11:46:08 PM
Emily Post tells us that the rudest thing of all is to point out the rudness and ignorance of others.
Thankfully, I am a rude jackass asshole myself, so can it, Miranda, and try to get the overarching point of the post rather than the one tiny minute detail that pisses you off.
Posted by: Deanna at Feb 25, 2008 11:58:02 PM
Whew! I am SO glad you all are okay. I know that you feel grateful all the time for the gift of Charlie, and now for your current pregnancy. But a scary experience like that brings that wonder and gratitude and fearful awe to a whole new front-of-your consciousness place, doesn't it?
Writing this beautiful post, and reaching out to Alexa and Simone, are good ways to respond to this experience. I often wonder how to respond to the many blessings I've received, to answered prayers and unexpected mercies, and times when I've feared for my children like that. For me prayer and giving thanks to God are part of the answer, but sometimes feel inadequate. I'm still working on the answer...
Posted by: Sheila at Feb 26, 2008 12:02:14 AM
I was in a brand new relationship when I lost control of my car while my new love and I were driving down a curvy mountain road in Baja California. After swerving back and forth just trying to stay on the road as we got to the bottom of the mountain, he finally yelled at me to just hit the breaks when we reached flat land. As we spun out backwards into the desert at 80 miles an hour, all I could think of was what a basketcase I was going to be after I killed the love of my life in a driving accident. Luckily, our car came gently to a stop in front of the only building for miles, a tire shop, where they fixed my tire and sent us on our way.
The "love of my life" ended up being a jackass and an asshole.
Just sit quietly for the next four months, ok? Don't go anywhere, just sit there!
Posted by: Tracy at Feb 26, 2008 1:29:20 AM
Darn, Julie.
Well put.
J
Posted by: geohde at Feb 26, 2008 2:45:50 AM
Miranda, I don't know if you have children, or perhaps you have angelic little ones that never make you feel like you need to tear your hair out. I think we all know Julie's not calling Charlie names to his face, and sometimes parents just need to vent when their kid's being really difficult. If you read this blog much you know how incredibly loved and wanted Charlie is, and what a lucky guy he is to be part of this family.
Posted by: Marcy at Feb 26, 2008 5:53:28 AM
I'm a new reader, and I love your blog!
Posted by: East Side Girl at Feb 26, 2008 6:47:22 AM
I am so glad that you are all OK.
Posted by: Amanda at Feb 26, 2008 8:20:32 AM
I am glad you are ok.
What kind of sushi did you eat? I'm craving sushi and being pregnant thought it was off limits. Maybe some sushi is cooked and I didn't realize it.
Posted by: Ginger at Feb 26, 2008 8:32:46 AM
What a lovely testament to your love for Charlie. I, too, have a three year old who is in that temporary jackass phase, alternating with moments of unbearable sweetness and poignancy.
And I live only about a mile from where that Weinermobile spun off the highway, and I felt lucky that I hadn't gone out as I had planned on that very slick day, even if going out would have meant I could see the frozen frankcicle in person!
Posted by: Teri at Feb 26, 2008 9:07:03 AM
Strange isn't it? How are fears change when we have kids. I don't worry so much about "me", but what the effect (affect? I never get that one right)of me or Joe being hurt or dying would do to the kids.
As far as the assholeness of kids, Maggie was sent to bed early last night for general GetOuttaMyFaceBeforeILoseMyTemper reasons last night. At 3:30 this morning, she crawled into our bed & snuggled next to me & whispered, "I missed you Mommy." Damnit, how am I supposed to resist that?
Give the little asshole a hug from me.
Posted by: catizhere at Feb 26, 2008 9:12:46 AM
Thank G-d you're ok!
I remember venting to a friend about my very difficult three year old and she said, "they tell you about the terrible twos but they never mention the fucking-awful threes."
I have to say that four is easier.
Posted by: ali at Feb 26, 2008 9:49:41 AM
Very happy that you and Paul are okay -- sounds like you had a horrendous scare.
But I can't get past the opening sentence of this post . . . aren't you WAY pregnant now and you went for SUSHI?!?! (Yes, I know you might have ordered "cooked" sushi and watched Paul cram the raw, mercury-laden fish into his maw . . .) What's up with that?!?!?
Posted by: Stacey at Feb 26, 2008 9:51:36 AM
Rock on, you sushi-eating badass! But stop scaring me like that with the traffic terrors, ok? I'm not as young as I was.
Posted by: cori at Feb 26, 2008 10:03:49 AM
Between the jackass and the sushi, it's a wonder the BLOG doesn't do you in, Julie. Good Lord.
I'm glad you made it home in one piece. May Simone make it with no more spin-outs of her own.
Posted by: Jody at Feb 26, 2008 10:15:07 AM
Thank goodness you made it home safely. Now pack up and move to the deep South, and quickly. Life is too short to drive on ice and suffer through snowy winters. It was 88 degrees here in Texas yesterday. Just sayin.
If infertility and prenatal near-misses give us any kind of a gift, it is that never-ending wonder and gratitude we get with every milestone -- and even the occassional ordinary moment. This morning my son escaped the crib for the first time, opening his bedroom door and shouting, "IT'S DAYTIME!" I was reduced to tears and laughter at the same time, as this takes us one step further away from his babyhood. Not to mention the fact that I am sure we'll never sleep again.
Posted by: kristylynne at Feb 26, 2008 11:05:36 AM
And the kind of blessing I should be remind myself of on days like today when I find myself a little too concerned with the crayon marks I just found on my tennis shoes.
Well written. I wish your friends the wonder as well.
Posted by: Zoot at Feb 26, 2008 11:25:37 AM
Okay so your last thought just shook me because I seem to have had similar events in the past years since Jeffrey's birth.
The words I was never so scared bubbles up but my mind always goes back to the night in the NICU. Standing outside in the stairwell because I didn't want to lose it while all the doctors were clustered around J's isolette. I just remember clinging to my husband and both of us crying. That was when I really felt like a mother.
It's funny now because I work in the same hospital and everytime I walk up those stairs I can see us standing there.
Posted by: at Feb 26, 2008 12:03:22 PM
Okay so your last thought just shook me because I seem to have had similar events in the past years since Jeffrey's birth.
The words I was never so scared bubbles up but my mind always goes back to the night in the NICU. Standing outside in the stairwell because I didn't want to lose it while all the doctors were clustered around J's isolette. I just remember clinging to my husband and both of us crying. That was when I really felt like a mother.
It's funny now because I work in the same hospital and everytime I walk up those stairs I can see us standing there.
Posted by: Dani at Feb 26, 2008 12:03:55 PM
Did I tell you that I read your posts also or even mainly to enjoy your English? We do need to be reminded how wonderful life is. BTW, I like reading comments aussi and am very glad that you decide not to edit them out. It is much more interesting to see how colorful the world that we are living in is!
Posted by: yasmina at Feb 26, 2008 12:21:18 PM
dang. how effing scary - i'm so glad you're all okay.
and the "world-shaking wonder" is exactly what i've been trying to describe lately - i know it sounds over the top but it really is that big. thanks for putting it into words.
Posted by: Jen at Feb 26, 2008 12:49:18 PM
Yes, you pegged it. The wonder.
I am so glad you all are okay.
Posted by: FishyGirl at Feb 26, 2008 1:27:06 PM
Thanks for pointing me towards Alexa; I've been reading and catching up on her story. I hope that before long, her neonate is like mine; two, sassy, and full of herself to the point that she calls me "poop" when I displease her.
And I bet you had soft cheese and some deli meat with your sushi, too. You go on with your bad self.
Posted by: runnerwoman at Feb 26, 2008 2:47:23 PM
You don't post for a week and then you start with the story of an almost crash! Are you trying to scare me to death???!!!
Glad you are OK. My heart was in my mouth reading that. No more driving until at least May!!
xoxo
Posted by: Alison C at Feb 26, 2008 3:08:08 PM
I had 3 preemies in the NICU(different times) and know the things you speak of. Although, none of mine were As early as Charlie.. my earliest was 30 weeks.
Anyhow.. glad you guys are ok! I've had a few close calls at different times myself and have had to do that business of still driving home even though you're shaking like a leaf and just wish that Scotty would beam you up already.
Glad you are alright.
Posted by: TheHMC at Feb 26, 2008 3:38:12 PM
stories like this are exactly why, every time my husband and i go out on one of our infrequent "date nights," the minute i shut my car door i think "we still haven't made out our wills." as in, nobody knows we want my mother-in-law to have our kids--because really, isn't the possibility of your simultaneous demise the first thing on MOST women's minds when they get a few hours away with the hubby?
my kids regularly swing to the distant end of the asshole spectrum, and even when they're at their worst i'd still run into traffic for them, as i think would any other mother who reads this blog. so miranda, go read somebody else's blog if you're too ignorant to appreciate this one. julie will have plenty of readers without you.
and ninotchka, it's all true. i didn't believe it either (not being a particular fan of other people's children, i feared i wouldn't care all that much for my own). before you have kids, your feet stand solidly on the earth beneath you. but there comes a moment when you look at your baby and you realize that now, the only thing that comes between you and vast, empty space is a thin sheet of ice. as long as that child is healthy and safe, the ice holds, but if anything ever happens to her, down you go. as alexa is learning right this minute. as i hope you learn (minus the life-threatening drama) soon.
Posted by: vikki at Feb 26, 2008 4:56:48 PM
Oh, man. When I was ridiculously pregnant my silly desert state suddenly got a lot of snow, and Bush had just been re-elected, and everything was terrible, and then my friend and I were riding in his tiny Eagle Talon and just... started spinning. We ended up facing the wrong way in a four-foot snowbank, perfectly fine but completely terrified and stuck. The worst thing that came of it was that the cop who helped us out yelled at me for not wearing a coat (IN THE CAR, where there was A HEATER) because he wanted me to get my pregnant ass out and help push (... yes, and also, NO).
And still, every time I look at my soon-to-be-three son, I wonder what if. If my seatbelt had pulled too tight, if we'd hit a truck and not a snowbank, if my blood pressure had skyrocketed, if I'd died. If he'd died, if I'd never met him? Game over.
Then I'd think, "He absolutely WAS being a little shit when he threw his sippy cup at the cat this morning, though," and I mostly get over it. I love the way you just brought back that whole range of experiences for me -- from the terror to the relief to the past almost-three years of wonder and annoyance. So, um, lots of verbose thanks for that.
Posted by: Sara at Feb 26, 2008 5:29:56 PM
