Every December 19th...

{I wrote this blog post a year ago and never actually shared it.  I even said in the post that I was going to share more of my experiences so this December 19th I'm holding true to that.  It may be 33 long years overdue but who's counting.} 



I have an unending pain.  It reignites every December 19th since 1986.  I have a pain in my soul such that if a soul could be visible and look at its reflection in the mirror, it would wither and weep at the picture of the memory it sees. 

A scared 13 year old girl who one moment is chatting with her neighbor on the phone and laughing away to begging her to call 911 because her house is on fire.  Not only that, the very spot where the fire started was where her feeble grandmother sat in her chair and died before she and her sisters even knew there was a frightful emergency.

We didn't know the fire had even started until the flames were fully engulfed.  Grandma lived in a little apartment attached on to my house off the back porch.  I was the last person to see her alive.  It was my turn to help her that morning by bringing her prunes and whatever else.  She would always say to us, "Take a quarter."  She always had a roll of quarters and whenever we helped her out, she would reward us.  I was the lucky recipient of a quarter that morning and then the next time I looked at the chair she was sitting in, it was nothing but charred ashes and smoke.  All I could think of in my 13 year old mind was how could she have been sitting in that? What happened to her?  The smell.  Oh the smell of the fire.  I kept that quarter for so many years after and have always been disappointed that I lost it along the way...

The things we over here adults say when the adults don't realize young people are listening can be the most impressionable in our memories.  For example, I heard my mother talking about our priest coming over to pray and anoint my grandmother's body and I heard her say that the priest said, "There was nothing to anoint."  But I had JUST seen her only hours earlier...Looking back, I can't imagine how hard that must have been for my mother.  It was HER mother.  Her own mother died a few days before Christmas in such a tragic and devastating way.  And two of my sisters and I were the only ones home at the time.  

A man came from across the street and broke the window where Grandma was sitting and that only fed the fire and made the flames shoot out of the window.  I know this because as my neighbor was walking us across the street to her house and she told me not to look back.  She kept saying, "Don't look back". 

I looked back.  

Before the fire trucks arrived and before my neighbor arrived to help us across the street to her house, I had to find a way OUT of my house.  Come to think of it, I don't know which way my sisters went out of the house.  Instead of going out the front door where it was safe, I went to the back of the house where the fire was and walked through the smoke to get out the back door.  I was so panicked and ill prepared for anything of this nature and it has actually affected me my whole life.  I still have trouble with quick decisions and emergencies to this day.  

The reason I went through the back door was because it was slushy and snowy outside and I remember thinking that I had my slippers on and couldn't walk in the slush.  It makes no sense, but what does when one is in a situation like that.  So scary. Getting out of my house is something that I remember so well.  The thoughts that went through my head...the panic feeling...the black black smoke. 

I couldn't see for a few seconds as I went though it and that feeling has stayed with me.  And then to get out on to the sidewalk to fresh winter air and cry for help.  So so real. 

That night my family all stayed with different friends and family.  On the news, they showed the medical team taking Grandma's draped body on the stretcher out of the house. I was so completely horrified.  Also, that afternoon after the fire was out, the investigator wanted me to go back over there and answer questions.  WHY?  I couldn't recognize anything.  Charred burnt things and smoke.  I saw her CHAIR.  

What my parents told me they chose to believe was that she had a stroke or heart attack, died suddenly and dropped her lit cigarette on herself.  We have always prayed that she died before the fire.  She was frail and needed a walker.  She chain smoked.  There was a buzzer she would push if she needed us and that never buzzed.  

My home had smoke damage all the way up to the third floor and attic.  I remember something about gunpowder being on our back porch that never even exploded. A small plastic statue of Mary that was in our kitchen melted back from the heat.  It was a staple in our kitchen for years after and many commented on how it appeared that Mary was leaning back out of the way and that she was looking out for us all.

Our neighbors came together and gave us Christmas gifts that year.  I can still picture the sweatshirt I received!  Oddly, I can't really remember how we celebrated Christmas that year or how long it was until I stayed in my house again.  Maybe a few days. 

Where is this traumatic memory stored in my brain.  Why, after 32 years, do I recall every detail and still feel scared?  Overall I believe we are all a product of our own pains, hurts, joys, fears and brokenness.  We all make our way through things that pain our hearts and cut us to the core. We never know the sufferings of another, the memories that hurt, the scary situations we encounter head on.  Life is not one moment.  It is journey of a million of little moments.  It's up to us to store these memories and turn them in to something healthy and to heal.  Maybe sharing this story has helped me.  Thank you for being a part of my million little moments.  

I tend to use humor and sarcasm to make people laugh and to make myself laugh. In the second half of my life, I plan on sharing more of the pain and realness of life that has taught me sooo many lessons.  Laughter truly is the best medicine, as they say.  Boy, has it been my savior. But maybe I'll actually ease up on the sarcasm.  Just maybe.

So every December 19th I stop and reflect as it gets so close to Christmas.  I stop and think about what is truly important, what makes me tick, and what I have to be grateful for in life.  Many blessings, many moments, many journeys.  I pray you have the courage to share what you need to share and bring out in the open what weighs you down and what is not your fault.

Blessing in Disguise: My Own Near Death and Trauma PART 2

Blessings in Disguise: My Own Near Death and Trauma PART 1

I left off at the first hospital.  Trinity West in Steubenville, OH.

Before I talk about the transport in the ambulance to Pittsburgh...

Never give up on the goals you set for yourself.  If you give up on them, who will help you succeed if you don't help yourself?

My car accident happened the day before classes started for the semester.  I was a student at Franciscan University at the time.  I was determined to get my bachelor's degree and become a teacher.  It ended up taking me another semester, but I stayed and I did it.  The doctors strongly suggested I leave college in order to heal and recuperate since I had no family in Ohio.  I knew if I left, I would never go back.  Here I am 25 years old and I am still in college.  I will never finish if I leave now.

But my injuries demanded  I receive full time, around the clock care.  I couldn't walk.  I couldn't take care of myself.  I couldn't drive.  I was in pain.  I needed help.

What an amazing group of support I had.  Roommates, teachers from the University, friends from near and far, family and many other members of church and community.  One of my professors even came to my house and worked with me so I could at least get a few credits that semester.

Ambulance ride from Steubenville to Pittsburgh...

It took an hour, at least, to get there.  It took so long because remember the accident happened in a snowstorm, so the roads were still bad that evening when they were transporting me.

I have to say that I had it easy.  Over the years, I have thought about my friends and family who received the word that I was in a serious car accident.  All they knew initially was that I had a head injury and I was being transported to a bigger hospital in Pittsburgh.  It took so many hours for them to find anything out.  I remember that a doctor friend in Staunton was able to get through to ICU and find out more information about my condition so he could tell everyone back in Staunton.  (A bit of background information about me... I had a wonderful community of support and love in Staunton.  Before I went to Steubenville, I was one of the first teachers at Guardian Angel Academy.  Guardian Angel Academy is the reason I moved to Staunton in the first place.  It was so I could teach at the new school Catholic school that was starting up.)

Also, my friend who was in the accident with me had to stand by and watch for that whole time they were cutting my car with the jaws of life to get me out.  My friends and family had to wait and pray until they found out more details about my injuries.  I have often thought how upsetting that would be to get news about someone you love and not know all the details.

One of the biggest impressions on me from that ambulance ride was the paramedic touched my leg when he was talking to me and explaining things to me.  I was still strapped to that backboard and my head was locked down at that thing so I was a little scared to say the least.  Just that reassuring touch was enough for me to remember it so vividly all these years later and to tell about it now.  There is so much power in the purest and kindest touch from another person.  I often think of my friend in prison so long and children who don't get that closeness and touch from their parents that they need so much to thrive.  Just a single touch on my leg meant so much to me.  It was almost as if to say, "You are not alone.  You have help.  It will be ok."

So in the ambulance was the paramedic, but I have always thought he was my guardian angel, too.  I will never forget the comfort he gave me while we were en route to Allegheny General in Pittsburgh.  He explained to me that upon arrival, it would be one of two scenarios.  The first scenario would be low key.  A few people would meet us at the ambulance, check me over and that would be that.  The second scenario would be a bit different.  Upon arrival in the second scenario, the doors of the ambulance would open and there would be much commotion, jarring around, many more doctors and hospital workers and a flurry of activity.  The second scenario described a trauma case.

When we arrived at the hospital and the doors of the ambulance swung open, the paramedic looked at me and, "It is the worst case scenario."

Time at the hospital...

And it began....the hustle and bustle, the jarring around of my body, the pain and the confusion of what in the world is going on?!  So many people talking and noises from all directions, all the while I am staring at the ceiling.  Once the initial assessment was over, I just lay there and it was still.  It took so long to be transported to my ICU room.  Oh, that was so miserable, I just wanted to get off of that back board.

My injuries:

• lacerated spleen
• 3 broken ribs
• fractured sacrum
• fractured L5 (fifth lumbar)
• fractured pelvis in 2 places  (when your pelvis breaks, it usually breaks in two places like a pretzel) 
• laceration on my eye from where my head hit the windshield requiring 12 stitches
• concussion

The lacerated spleen is what put me in the ICU for 3 days.  Apparently, if your spleen ruptures or bleeds to much that is extremely bad.  They had to keep checking my blood or my bladder or something to make sure it didn't get any worse. I can tell you a little fun fact, though...my bladder is shaped like a heart.  They had to fill my bladder up with fluid so the nurse told me it was shaped like a heart. 

While I was in ICU I was in so much pain.  In all honesty, the male nurse I had was a complete jerk.  At one point, he was so inconsiderate of my broken bones that he tried to move me for one of the tests even though he didn't have to.  He was so flippant about everything and did not have the best bedside manner.  He did allow 3 of  my friends to come in the room after that.  When I saw them I just broke down.  I thought I would die.  I could hardly move and I remember that crying would make it worse because of my ribs being broken. It is so amazing what emotions can flood into you when you see loved ones and familiar faces during such a hard time.  

After three days, I was able to leave ICU, bid good riddance to my male nurse and go to a regular floor.  It was interesting because one doctor that they talked to thought I should be in traction, have surgery to put pins in my hip and everything.  Then that doctor left for vacation and another doctor took over and he said the opposite.  He said all my injuries needed time to heal and that I would have no surgeries.  I would just wait and heal.  I remember being so shocked by the difference of opinion and always wondered if that was the best decision for my care.  It all worked out well, anyway!

I was so broken in a split second during the accident.  Then all those months to heal.  It always amazes me out our brains take trauma.  It happens so fast sometimes.  In an instant.  And then the healing process begins.   The healing is so much slower.  Sometimes the healing from a traumatic event just continues and really has not definite end.

As far as physically recovering, the doctors told me I would have degenerative arthritis at a young age.  The scar on my eye is the only physical mark on me from that day.  I love what my brother, Brad, said about it once.  He told me he liked my scar because it looks like a tear coming out of my eye, but that is not like me because I am always happy.  I thought that was sweet.  

The patient :)  

Amy, my roommate helping me eat.

Amy and Maria, my roommates, washing my hair for me.  We always joked that they looked like hospital employees because of their matching clothes.  They were amazing!  

My my scar on my eye.  I also wanted to show off my black eye.  

                                           

My friend, Leanne, and her girls visited me in the hospital! Leanne is from Pittsburgh so she was able to come visit and see her family, too.  Annie and Sophia are her daughters (back when she only had 2, now she has 6 and these 2 girls have daughters of their own, now!)  I taught Annie Kindergarten at Guardian Angel Academy in Staunton, VA, where I lived and worked when not in school. 

  

I was in the hospital for 10 days.  I recovered at home in Steubenville for 4 months before I was totally free from my walker and crutches.  

I was renting a house with two roommates and they didn't blink an eye at the thought of me recovering right there in Steubenville.  They worked together and set up a schedule of friends to "babysit" me around the clock once I got home from the hospital.  They moved my bedroom to the first floor of our house (which had no bathroom on the first floor and you can figure out that that meant).

My homecoming.  I had to walk around the back of the house because I could not do steps. 

My home for 4 months.  

It was a gruelling winter, but I had my own little "resurrection" of sorts when I was able to walk up to communion without crutches at the Easter Vigil.  That was the first time in almost 4 months that I walked on my own. I was so grateful.

So in the beginning of this post, I said...

Never give up on the goals you set for yourself.  If you give up on them, who will help you succeed if you don't help yourself?

I said this because I didn't give up on myself.  With friends and family and support from my college, I stayed in Steubenville and I finished.  I became a teacher and received my degree.  If you don't convict yourself of achieving something then all the support in the world won't mean a thing.  It has to come from inside.  I am so proud that I was able to finish college with so many setbacks along the way.

I learned about prayer most of all.  I learned about friendship, kindness and patience.  I learned that for SOME reason, which I didn't know at the time, I was meant to survive and move on.  I felt so guilty that I made it and that my friends' friend lost her life in the same type of accident.  I wondered for years what I was meant to do since I was given a gift of living longer than I thought would that day.

I became a TEACHER and then I truly had my answer when I became a MOM.

About becoming a mom, when the doctor came out and told me that the good news was that I would be able to bear children, I don't even remember if he told me the bad news.  Fast forward to 2007 when I gave birth to my firstborn, Emmett.  I had a beautiful homebirth.  My midwives prompted me to request my hospital records from the car accident since I fractured my pelvis.  They were concerned that the accident may have interfered with my ability to have a natural birth.  Turns out it was QUITE the opposite and I was able to give birth to all three of my children at home with absolutely no interventions.  I'm so grateful for that!

So whatever hardships or trauma you have had in your life...whether it be only the trip through the birth canal or even more hardship after that rocky beginning...I hope you are able to find joy and purpose through life's most troubling of circumstances.  After all, if God allowed His own Son to have the most burdensome and dire of circumstances, why should we expect any less?  We can't have Easter Sunday without Good Friday, right?

Here's to all of our own "good fridays" turning into our own little "resurrections" in this crazy, confusing life.

Thanks for stopping by From Teacher to Mom.

Oh, and I promise my next post will be a little lighter!

Blessings in Disguise: My Own Near Death and Trauma PART 1

Another traumatic memory for the books....

January 11, 1999   Around 3:00 pm  (very close to the hour of Divine Mercy) 

Sixteen years ago today, I was in a severe car accident with a friend of mine.  I was the driver and he was the passenger.  I was making a left turn out of a parking lot during a snowstorm.  The last words I remember were spoken by my passenger..."You might want to edge out a bit."  I couldn't see well over the snowbank and the road curved around to the left, anyway.  I edged out and went over what was like a curb and I ended up way further into the road than anticipated.  The last thing I remember was a car coming, a BIG car.  

The next thing I remember was my passenger slapping my face trying trying to wake me up.  "Lorraine, wake up!  Wake up!"  Then a bit of jarring around from the slapping.  

Then NOTHING.  

Now I hesitate.  This is the part that I have not told many people about.  I have not told this story very many times.  It is so personal and so "other worldly" that it is hard to put into words.  Yet, it is a part of this story that has shaped and formed my beliefs about God, what happens after you die, where our deceased loved ones are and what the whole point of life is in general.  

I don't share this story in order to boost my blog posts, in order for people to feel sorry for me, or in order to sensationalize or dramatize anything.  I share it because it is real.  It really happened and it is a part of me and who I have become.  It is beautiful and spiritual.  It is joyful and peaceful.   It is time that was for me.   A time that was not IN time.  A time where I left time and then slowly entered back into it.  

It was when I saw my mother smile and I saw Jesus on the cross.  And then I felt the snow falling on my face and I was cold.  I was still alive.  I was here.  

For roughly 45 minutes, I was pinned in the car.  I was T-boned right smack in the driver's side door.  My seat belt and the door pinned me in and the emergency workers and fire department had to turn my Oldsmobile into a convertible in order to lift me out the top.

You can see my head there in front of that backboard.  This info in the caption is so wrong.  I was treated and released, yes, but I was transferred to Allegheny General in Pittsburgh because my injuries were so bad that they couldn't handle my case at  Trinity West in Steubenville.  The paramedic looking on with no coat on and the hat was my guardian angel that day.  He was the one who sat next to me in the car while they tried to get me out and who rode in the ambulance with me during the hospital transfer.  

Picture of my car at the lot where it sat while I was in the hospital.

I was unconscious during this time.  This is when I saw the light (oh my gosh, that sounds ridiculous, but it is true).  It was complete peace, quiet, warmth and calm.  I saw my mother's face.  My mother died when I was 19.  I was 25 at the time of the accident.  My mother was smiling.  As soon I saw my mother, I knew I was not alive because she had already passed.  However, I knew I was not dead because I was actually THINKING.  The only way to use words to describe it is that I was in between.  I must have had so much hurt and pain from my losing my mother because when I saw her face, I wanted to go to where she was.   I was ready to be done.  I was, for lack of better words, being pulled toward her.  If you can imagine, off to the left.  The reason she was smiling was because she UNDERSTOOD.  She understood everything.  Her smile told me that.  She was also smiling in a reassuring way, as if to say, "It is going to be ok."  "You are not done yet."  "It is not your time." 

To me, this is the most beautiful thing.  I have always heard that when you are near death, what better time for God to send your loved ones to be near you and to comfort you?  And here it was, actually happening to me.  I have, since my mother's passing, learned about the veil.  Passing to the next life is not like breaking through a wall.  We can think of it as  more like veil that separates us from the dead. The veil was lifted for me that day in the car.  That is how I saw my mother's face.

Now, if it is not my time, then I am about to SUFFER.  I mean, if I am even having this experience, then something must have gone completely wrong.  Now, imagine the pulling toward my mother subsiding and now direction (again, for lack of better term) pulls my focus to the right.  Or, if you will, the veil is lowering.  I wonder how will I deal?  If I am not "done", then what is going to happen to me?  Now, I realize the only way is that I must pray in order to deal with this.  This is when I think of Jesus and the focus shifts to Him on the cross.  His face is leaning a bit to the side.  His arms outstretched.  I realize that He is there.  Sigh.  Relief.  Calm.  I try to formulate a prayer.

The light fades.  I begin to feel physical sensations.  I feel the snow falling on my face.  I absolutely know I am not dead because I can now see the BP gas station sign and see the snow falling.  I hear voices.  I feel my body being jarred.  I am cold.  I hear cheering and clapping.  What is it?  The emergency workers are happy to have freed me from my car.  What they didn't know was that for me that car was the place where I looked death in the eye.  The place where I was spared my life,  The place where I saw beyond.

They say near death experiences are not all flat-lining on a table in a hospital.  I may not have flat lined, but I was far gone enough from this life to know there is another place.  I was given a gift. 

And I am not keeping it to myself anymore.  I am sharing with you.  Especially, I am sharing it here so my children can read about it one day.  I want them to know how happy I am to have them and to have had a family of my own.  I am happy to have stayed here long enough to find out my purpose.  To find out why I made it throught that accident.  

As I reflect and research today on this experience I had 16 years ago, I just pulled the book out of the attic that I read during my recovery during the holy season of lent back in 1999, leading up to Easter.  About 2 months after the accident, I was in my room doing some spiritual reading about the our Lord's passion.  The book is called The Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, by Luisa Piccarreta.  I looked at the picture on the front of the book and I was overcome.  It is the exact image of Jesus that I saw that day.  His face leaning to the side and the crown of thorns on His head.  

                                                           

I had this book stored away because in the years since, I had heard that the writings of this mystic of the Church were deemed questionable.  However, I just read about her HERE and in 1993 (the year my mother died), her cause for sainthood was reopened by the one and only Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (currently Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI).  How interesting!  

Up until that morning of my accident, my big and roomy Oldsmobile was not running.  I was, instead, driving my roommate's tiny red sports car.  If my car did not start that morning, I would be for sure have died.  In fact, a couple of my friends came to visit me after I got out of the hospital.  They told me they just had to see me.  They had to see for themselves.  That same day as my accident, there was another one, as well.  The driver, one of their friends, was t-boned in the side, just like me.  She didn't survive.  

I remember the paramedics getting me into the ambulance and then proceeding to take scissors and cut my clothes off from the ankle up to the neck.  Nothing like getting jarred back to reality when your clothes are getting cut off of your body.  Especially your favorite jeans and coat. :)  

I don't remember much at the first hospital.

However, I remember very clearly the first thing the doctor said to me after some initial assessment of my injuries.  He said, "The good news is that you will be able to bear children."  

PART 2