To the young mother in the E.R., You don't know who I am. I've worked as a medic and ambulance driver that night, when your 1 yo. baby's carotid was cut by a broken vase. I was driving my patient to the emergency room when I heard it over our radio system. I froze. We all froze.
When I arrived, I saw you sitting on a chair, staring at the floor. Nobody was around you. You were barely 19, already a mother of several children and in a state of utter shock. No visible emotion was flowing through you. Just shock.
I remember peeking into the the O.R. and witnessing about 15 of the hospital's top doctors working on his tiny body, trying hard to stop the bleeding. Everyone was paged to come help that night and everyone showed up.
I glanced over at you. You were still there. Staring at the same spot on the floor. I walked over to you and placed my hand on your shoulder. There was nothing else to be said or done. We sat in silence.
I was then dispatched to a new call and had to leave you alone. Again. I left and never looked back. I never asked about the fate of your child. And I also never stopped thinking about you. It's been 14 years.
I know so very little about you, but in those few moments we've spent in silence we had an understanding, a knowing of each other. I've felt your paralyzingly pain, your fears and hopes for a miracle.
Wherever you may be today, sweet sister, I hope your wounds have healed and that you are comforted by the fact that someone remembers.
From a mother to a mother.