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Parenting
Everything Can Change in an Instant
by Laura Jenkins
Updated: May 22, 2020
Originally Published: March 28, 2018
It was 9:39 p.m. when my phone buzzed with a frantic call from my daughter’s friend. “Ella got hit by a car!” I had her repeat it several times, struggling to comprehend the words as they felt foreign, like a different language.
We were in the city that night—my husband, our 16-year-old daughter, and her friends. We had just dropped the girls off at a concert, planning to enjoy an anniversary dinner. But then came the call that shattered our evening.
Fortunately, we were only a short distance away, allowing us to reach the scene quickly. Emergency vehicles were already there, bringing order to chaos. Ella was alive—stunned, injured, and bleeding, but alive.
My husband was shouting over the sirens, urging me to take the other girls home. Reluctantly, I agreed. I couldn’t leave two terrified teens alone. I entered survival mode, moving forward on nothing but adrenaline.
There was a cab ride and a long train journey, but my phone was dead, cutting me off from my husband and the outside world. A wave of terror washed over me, imagining the worst.
Despite seeing Ella with my own eyes, doubts crept in: “What if she has internal injuries? What if I have to plan a funeral?” Rational thoughts would momentarily surface, reminding me she was talking and sitting up, but the fear was relentless. This internal struggle lasted for hours, leaving me in anguish.
During this agonizing journey, I recalled a Novena my mother had gifted me long ago. It had worn creases from frequent folding, but I clung to it, repeating the prayers over and over, desperate for hope.
Finally, I arrived at the Manhattan hospital where Ella had been taken. The sight of her in the ICU, machines beeping around her, filled me with dread. Each sound made me jump, and I constantly checked her vitals, racing to the nurses for reassurance at the slightest fluctuation.
The fear and despair were overwhelming. I was running on pure adrenaline, unable to think clearly, feeling as though I was trapped in a surreal fog. I questioned everything, terrified to ask how she was, fearing the truth might be worse than my imagination.
For 24 hours, my heart raced uncontrollably, and every nerve in my body felt exposed. The fear gripped me, manifesting as shaking and nausea. I had to remind myself that she was in the best care available.
As details about the accident emerged, I felt a mix of horror and gratitude. Ella had been struck by a car traveling 40 miles per hour, yet the doctors were amazed at her survival. Miraculously, she suffered minimal injuries—some bruises, a possible brain bleed, and a few stitches.
That night, I felt as though angels were watching over her. Although the voice that delivered the awful news lingers in my mind, it has faded from the forefront of my thoughts. I can now close my eyes without reliving the terrifying moment of seeing my daughter hit.
In the weeks following the accident, I’ve learned profound lessons. I’ve grown more grateful for my life and recognized the strength within both Ella and myself. The support of friends and family has been invaluable, and I’m learning to be more patient and present.
I’ve realized the importance of cherishing each day as if it were my last. Life can change in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, Ella emerged from this harrowing experience with only a slight limp, a reminder of how close we came to losing her. I feel incredibly fortunate as a mother, holding her a little closer and appreciating every moment.
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Summary:
This article recounts a mother’s traumatic experience the night her daughter was hit by a car. It explores the fear and anxiety she felt, her emotional journey to the hospital, and the joy of her daughter’s miraculous survival. The author reflects on the lessons learned about gratitude, strength, and the fragility of life.