April 4, 2013- The Drive

Sherriff Terry Thompson offered to take us to the hospital and I let him.  I put Jeremy in the font with the Sherriff and I sat in the back with a screaming Vi.  Vi hated the car and screamed the whole time.  I called my dad to let him know we were on our way to the hospital.  He said Mom was working there tonight (she is an x-ray tech at Primary Children's) and I asked him to call her for me.  I got a text message from Camille, Gracie's former babysitter and friend of mine.  I debated answering it back and wish to this day I hadn't.  People think they want to be there at the on-set of a tragedy but it's a false sense of support when they don't have the staying power to be there for as long as you need them.  Only close family and very close trusted friends should be at the hospital to share in those most sacred moments. But I knew we would need our car and overnight bags for the hospital and Camille was willing to bring them. 

Mom called.  Gracie had arrived but they weren't allowing my mom to be with her.  This indicated to me it was really bad.  Mom said I needed to prepare myself for brain damage and that with accidents like this, the children usually weren't the same after.  I couldn't take it in.  I couldn't think of Gracie not being able to ride her bike, talk, walk, be who she is the rest of her life!! How could this be?  She's wrong.  I pleaded with God that this would not be her plan and felt the great response, "It's not."
I just need to get there and see and talk to Gracie for myself.  She would be fine.

In between phone calls and trying to comfort Jeremy and Vi, I prayed.  I prayed for comfort, I prayed that all would be well, but most of all I prayed, "Thy will be done and give me the strength to endure."  I felt peace.  I felt that things would be fine, that Gracie would be fine. 

The Sherriff got a little turned around heading up toward the hospital and we ended up at University of Utah hospital.  I wanted to scream but felt it socially unacceptable looking back now it probably would've been an appropriate response.  I called mom and she gave us directions.  She still had not been allowed to see Gracie.  It took us about 45 minutes to arrive where we were taken into a room which I knew from when Grandma Joyce had her stroke meant bad news.