How Am I Gonna Be an Optimist About This?

“How Am I Gonna Be an Optimist About This?” – Pompeii by Bastille

Six weeks ago I was driving on I-15 to meet some of my wonderful friends and classroom aides for lunch in Ogden. I was in the fast lane when I noticed a small SUV coming into my lane. I honked repeatedly, but he continued to come over right toward the passenger side of my smaller Acura TL. My mom was talking to me on Bluetooth and I said, “What is this guy doing? Stay in your lane!”

I looked up and saw a hand holding a cell phone above the steering wheel. There was no shoulder on the bridge near Willard Bay where we were driving, so I hit the guardrail going around 75 miles per hour. The crash was deafening. The side airbag went off. My ears were ringing and all I could see was white light. I knew I was in the road, though, in the way of oncoming traffic. I pressed the gas to get over to the right side of the road out of the way. As I slid (because my tire was twisted inward and I had no control), I saw the SUV get back on the road and speed away. I saw his license plate number, however, and began saying it over and over and over out loud. I stopped on the right shoulder out of the way. Safe. My mom said, “Karli, did you crash? Karli!” I just said, “Mama… mama.”

I knew I was hurt. I couldn’t breathe well and my heart was racing out of my chest. I began to shake as I watched car after car pass me by on the freeway. I couldn’t talk. I hung up. My fingers couldn’t press the buttons on my phone to dial 911. After 3 failed attempts, I finally heard the operator say, “911, what is your emergency?”

I will say with complete confidence that I had the help of God to stay conscious during this conversation. She asked for my name and age and location. I told her everything with detail and accuracy.

“Are you injured?”

“Yes. My left side. I am 7 weeks pregnant and I think I am bleeding. I need an ambulance.”

She repeatedly said, “Stay with me until the paramedics get there. Someone is coming.”

        I trusted that someone would come. It was the longest 15 minutes of my life.

        I saw a cop with flashing lights speed by me, pulling over, until he backed up & jumped out to talk to me. The driver’s side door wouldn’t open. I unlocked the other doors. Several paramedics opened the doors and I slid over into the passenger seat. They secured my neck and told me not to move. I told them again, “I’m 7 weeks pregnant and I think I’m miscarrying right now.” I started to pull my clothes off. An officer said, “You’re not bleeding.” I said, “I think I’m bleeding internally, then.” I could feel it.

My phone rang. It was Ryan. I answered and said, “Ryan.” But I couldn’t talk anymore. I was losing breath. The officer kept asking me my name and address over and over. “Stay with me” he would say when my eyes would close.

Four people, three men and a woman, dragged me from the car. They told me not to move and they would do all the work. They strapped me to a stretcher and I was in agony.  I started yelling, “It hurts! Can you loosen me?” They told me to hold still and breathe. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t cry. I had absolutely no thought of death. I just knew I had to get off this board!

They dragged me down a steep embankment to the nearest frontage road. The woman was nearest my head, carrying me, and kept saying, “It’ll be okay.” “There is a bump coming” or “How old are you?” She wanted me to stay awake.

In the ambulance was a man who told me he was going to set up an IV. He didn’t know which pain medication he could safely give a pregnant lady, so I didn’t get any.

The woman knelt by my head and held my hand. She looked into my eyes the whole time. Her eyes were bright green and her hair was light brown. She asked me what my husband did, where I work, where I was going before I crashed, and told me, “I got into a car accident when I was a lot more pregnant than you and my baby was fine. The doctor said he was safer than me all cushioned in there.”

She was so nice.

I have never been in so much pain in my life.

We arrived a Brigham City Community Hospital and somewhere in the very back of my mind I was thinking, “There’s a hospital in Brigham City?” I thought we were going to Ogden.

When they opened the doors to get me out, Ryan was there. I was mad at him. I said, “How fast did you drive?!” He didn’t answer. I knew we took a while but there’s no way we took 45 minutes.

In the hospital I yelled, “Get me off this board!” They rolled me off of it onto a bed. Someone started cutting my clothes off. Someone took my jewelry off. Ryan held my hand and said sweetly, “It will all be ok, Kar.” He seemed pretty confident.

A doctor tried to do an ultrasound. I thought it was to see the baby, but all I heard was, “There’s too much blood.” A surgeon came in and said, “We need to do CT scans. It will take 30 minutes.” They wheeled me away.

They made me sign a paper that said I knew this machine could hurt my unborn baby. The surgeon said, “Without Mama, there’s no baby!” I signed it.

In the scans I had to hold my breath, put my arms up, breathe deeply. Do everything that hurt the most, basically.

After the scans I saw Ryan again. His face was white; his whole demeanor had changed. I said, “What’s wrong?”

The surgeon said, “You have a level 4 spleen rupture, 4 broken ribs and a bruised lung. You need emergency surgery. Do you have any questions.”

I didn’t dare ask about my baby. I just said, “I don’t want to feel anything.” He laughed and said, “You won’t.”

I asked, “Can I have a Priesthood blessing?” Ryan and a male nurse gave me a blessing. I felt the Spirit of the Lord comfort me. I knew I would be safe. I felt God’s love for me.

In the operating room I was laid on a hard table again. They gave me anesthesia right away, but before I was asleep I heard them switch into emergency operation mode. And I was out.

“Feeling my way through the darkness – guided by a beating heart – I can’t tell where this journey will end… so wake me up when it’s all over.” – Wake Me Up  by Avicii

I woke up 3 hours later. I don’t remember that much of the next few days, so this next part is the recollections of my husband, Ryan and my Mother, Julie.

When I woke up I asked, “Where’s my mom?” and continued asking for her until I saw her. (Obviously my mom liked that a lot). I opened my eyes at one point and saw my daddy. I said, “I’m so grateful I live in America.” My dad laughed, but agreed. (I don’t remember saying this…).

I remember the tubes. My catheter had been inserted improperly so the first thing I said in my hospital room was, “I need to pee!!!” I yelled it. Loud. I don’t know what they did or where I peed, but I went back to sleep.

Then I remember the tube down my throat sucking everything out of my stomach. Someone explained this to me and I remember thinking, “So I’m going to die.” …because they were taking out all of my food and not letting me eat.

I said, “My throat hurts.” Someone gave me a green popsicle. I asked for green, I know that. Apparently, I fell asleep eating it and no one noticed until it had melted everywhere.  

Then people came. Lots of people. People I loved but couldn’t recognize. Someone posted that I was hurt on Facebook. Then all of our phones started ringing like crazy and wouldn’t stop. I yelled, “Take it off Facebook! Leave me alone!”  

Actually. I yelled, “What the H*LL was he doing? Take it down right now!” I don’t remember saying that… so, yeah…

My phone rang and Ryan handed it to me and said, “It’s Sarah.” I started to cry and said, “Did you hear about the baby?!”

My mom grabbed the phone away from me and said, “Sorry, she’s on drugs.” They didn’t let me talk to anyone else after that. I didn’t know anything about the baby at that point, anyway!

On the second day, the surgeon came to see me. He said to Ryan, “Sorry, ‘Dad’, but I held your baby before you did. I lifted up her uterus and everything looked perfect. There was bruising and bleeding elsewhere, but the baby looked great.”

“So my baby is ok?” I cried. “Yep. He’s doing ok! We’re monitoring your HCG levels and they keep going up.” I went back to sleep.

On the third day, I think, I finally looked down. I felt my belly. I felt the 35 staples there and knew I would never be the same.

Ryan stayed with me every night and my mom stayed with me every day.

On the fifth day I was walking again. We saw who I now knew to be Dr. Lance Bryce, my wonderful surgeon, in the hallway. He said, “Good news! Your HCG levels nearly doubled today.” I made it past the 48 hours he had set for me to miscarry. He said, “You now have probably a 90-95% chance of carrying this pregnancy full term since the baby survived the trauma.”

I cried again. I said, “Thank you. You saved my life and my baby’s life.” He said, “You are keeping your baby alive!”

      On the last day, after so much awfulness, I started feeling so grateful.     I made a list of the tender mercies that we had received:

GF Mac & Cheese

• ·      Our baby was saved
• ·      I was brought to the best surgeon at the nicest hospital
• ·      Amazing food. The cooks went out of their way to make me gluten free food and even bought me a gluten free cake
• ·      We received a recall notice for our 2003 Acura TL a few months ago, stating that the side airbags were defective and shot shards of metal when they went off, causing serious injury and death.
• ·      We got the airbags fixed two months ago before they went off
• ·      Ryan sold the car for parts
• ·      All that got hurt was my spleen and ribs. It could have been my hands or brain or face or something life-altering
• ·      The surgeon saved my baby!!!
• ·      My dad’s accident earlier this year met the insurance deductible and covers my surgery and hospital costs 90%
• ·      I feel closer to God than I ever have. I know He loves me and things happen for a reason
• ·      I have the most understanding boss who visited me and made me feel important and told me I will always have my job
• ·      Dr. Lance Bryce saved my life
• ·      I was a millimeter away from having a blood transfusion but I didn’t have to have one. I lost a liter of blood.
• ·      I felt angels with me while on the phone during the accident
• ·      I have hundreds of people who have told me they care for me
• ·      My scars won’t show unless I wear a bikini
• ·      I recognize the beauty in life more than ever before
• ·      I get to share my story about God’s love for me with others

So, “How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” I will continue to remember all of the tender mercies of the Lord, focus on the good and be grateful that we get to have this little baby in our lives. 

The day before we left the hospital, Dr. Bryce met with us and told us, “You are stable now, but you don’t realize how close you were to death. And you may never realize.” He said I was about 30 seconds from death. He couldn’t do the laparoscopic surgery for this reason. I now have a 12” incision that runs from my sternum down past my navel. It will forever serve as a reminder that I’m Alive.

Recovery at home hasn’t been easy, but I know it will be worth it. Nine days after the accident, we got to hear our baby’s heartbeat. We will find out the gender the first week of October.

He looks like Pinocchio, but that's just his hand!

I called the Brigham City emergency services office last week to ask for the names of people who helped me in the Ambulance. The fire chief looked up my file and told me some names. I said, “There was a girl. Who was the girl in the Ambulance?” He said, “There wasn’t a girl with you in the Ambulance.”

I don’t know if their reports are off or not. But I do know angels are real. I have felt the Lord’s love for me through this experience. I know one day all of us will be made whole through the Atonement of Christ. I won’t have these scars. I echo the words of Hedwig Biereichel when she spoke concerning her trials, “I didn’t keep a testimony through those [difficult] times – the testimony kept me.”

“But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all?” 

– Pompeii by Bastille