The garage door slammed and the baby started to scream. I hung up the phone. For hours I bounced that little baby. The screams were full of the same fear that I held in my heart. Something was wrong. I promised Tytus over and over that everything was going to be ok. I picked up my phone many times to call my mom, or a friend, but I wouldn’t let myself dial. I couldn’t stand to have another person tell me that everything was ok—or worse, have someone remind me that I was going crazy.
The hours go slow when you are holding a baby who can’t be calmed, but this night they were even harder. Around 10, he really started to panic. His screams were piercing and there was nothing I could do to get him to calm down. I could feel it too. I dialed Emmett’s number a few times in a row. No answer. I text him and asked if he was ok. Nothing. Silence. The loudest silence I had ever felt.
Around midnight the baby finally calmed down and I laid him in his bed. The feeling of isolation and being alone really set in as I sat in a silent house full of sleeping babies. For a moment I thought about going to look for him, but that would mean leaving my kids. There was no way I was going to do that. So I just sat in the silence begging—still—for one answer.
The next thing I knew I was awakened by a pounding on my front door. The walk to the entryway felt like it was in slow motion—every thought in my head telling me that this could be my answer. It is a police man and Emmett got in a wreck in his fancy new truck… and he will be in a hospital bed and he will need us. Everything will be ok. They will take you to him and you guys will have the moment you have been longing for all day.
