I could've lost my daughter on August 9th.
I could've lost my daugher in a very horrific, nightmarish way.
I know that I didn't. I know she is safe. But the "what could have been" scenario keeps haunting me. Every time I walk into our house, I look at the charred steps - now uncrossable - and the charred wall of Emerson's nursery. I picture her running up those steps completely on her own, as she did numerous times every day. I think about the days we spent at home when I would be nursing or rocking Eliot, so she would run off somewhere to play by herself. I think about the fact that just one week earlier, my family and I very well could've been -- probably would have been -- home when our house went up in flames.
And Emerson could've been -- probably would have been -- trapped upstairs alone.
What would I have done? The scenario changes every time I think about it. I imagine running outside with Eliot, stopping cars on Spalding Ave and handing my child off to the first stranger I found so that I could literally scale the bricks of my home to get to Emerson. I imagine grabbing a blanket and just running through the flames to get to her. I imagine standing outside screaming like a madwoman and yet paralyzed in fear.
What would she have done? The alarms and the flames and the smoke would have scared her. Would she have hidden? Would she have tried to run down the steps, into the fire? Could she have heard me if I'd tried to yell directions to her?
My heart is pounding just typing this. It is difficult to breathe.
But I have to "say" it. I have to get this out. This is what plays through my mind all day.
Seriously. I could have lost her.
If I had lived, and she had not.......
If I had had to sit in my front yard, knowing my daughter was trapped inside....
Oh my gosh.
It is unfathomable.
Last night, I had nightmares all night. In all of them, for different reasons, I was desperately trying to get to Emerson and couldn't.
Last night, as I played with Emerson's hair while she peacefully fell asleep, I had tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking about how different my life could've been.
My life? She IS my life.
When we rebuild our home, there WILL be an escape route from - and easily accessible entrance way to -- the upstairs. I don't care if it costs us more money to build that than it does to replace every thing we lost.
I have to stop thinking about this. I know that. But, for now, I can't.
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