Finding Space to Heal
Content Warning: spinal injury, child's injury, and trauma
I have been time-disoriented since that night four years ago.
I thought it took hours for the ambulance to come, but it was 4 minutes. I held my girl and thought she was dead because she wasn’t moving her arms or legs.
Four years ago, I sat on the floor in our dining room and begged her to move her arms and legs. I told the EMTs to get a c-collar on her because my arms were tired from holding her spine in alignment. Our pediatrician told me later that I probably kept Ellie from being paralyzed.
This morning I sat in that same spot on the floor and let myself cry.
I told myself that I had done a good job.
That I was proud.
That I knew I had been scared and I stayed present anyhow.
Last spring, in addition to attending one of Alongside Network’s Wellbeing Groups, I also participated in a twelve-week trauma healing group. It was part education and skill building, and partly the opportunity to do EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). The evening of Ellie’s injury is one of the memories I reprocessed during that group. While I can tell that my memories are less intense this year, they are still present. I doubt they will ever completely go away.
The onslaught of memories of Ellie’s injury and all that followed started to bubble up a few weeks ago. I am not sure if that is universal, but for me, it seems to be the way trauma memories work—they begin to resurface a few weeks before the actual anniversary date. When it happened this year, I tried to let the tears come and the full arch of the memory run its course. I have learned that trying to hit “pause” does not work and when things get stuck it just makes it harder to heal in the long run. In my trauma group, we learned that memories have a beginning, middle, and end. By letting a memory play all the way through and engage in noticing the sensations of it, somehow it seems to be less intense the next time. Sort of the way listening to the whole song can help get it out of your head.
As I brace for more memories—both actual ones and Facebook “memories”—I have set an intention. I will offer myself space to feel whatever feelings arise. Space to notice what is lighter, and also space to notice what is still intense or disruptive. Space to continue reprocessing my trauma and continue my healing journey.
I am grateful that Ellie is thriving and growing. She loves running and singing. She is the friendly greeter everywhere she goes. She loves eating pizza and pancakes. She loves snuggling our cats. She loves watching her favorite Disney movies over and over. And over. Until the songs from Moana and Frozen and Encanto are stuck in my head.
I am so grateful for the healing work I have been able to do and the people who walk alongside me as I continue to do it. I look forward to a time when the memories are no more disruptive than having a song stuck in my head.
Written by Carina, who is a mother of a daughter who experienced a life-threatening spinal injury. Carina first participated in Alongside’s Wellbeing Group and has now successfully helped facilitate a Wellbeing Group as a facilitator with lived experience, and continues helping spread Alongside’s message.