“Miles, sit down!” I cried. After that she left the car and ran towards the child. At such a moment, you forget that you are 33 weeks pregnant and usually at a snail’s pace.
Sometimes you have those days. Then you finally lie in bed at night and are left with all sorts of things.
Saturday was one of those days for me. We had planned for Lewis’ birthday and before that the boys had a football match – obviously at different times. It was running and flying as it was falling from the sky. We had between ten minutes to put something dry in the house and quickly finish a sandwich and then had to head back to the football field. Then it happened.
I wanted to pull out of the neighborhood and turn right, and there he was. A kid in the middle of a busy main road. Next to him is a bicycle with training wheels, one wheel even rotated. The accident had just happened, maybe five seconds ago.
“Miles, sit down!” I said. After that she left the car and ran towards the child. At such a moment, you forget that you are 33 weeks pregnant and usually at a snail’s pace. Another woman came with me – it turned out to be a nurse – and the people who hit the baby.
“It was there all of a sudden!” terror in their eyes. I guessed the boy was six years old, not much older.
“Has anyone called 911?” I screamed back to get a rug by my torso. This was the case, 112 were called.
I came back with Nils – who was driving behind me because he had to go to football himself – and I covered the baby. Someone very cautiously slipped a towel under his head. He was bleeding profusely and seemed to be conscious, but panicked and in palpable pain. At that moment, my BHV cycle from a few years ago came back. Don’t move, leave him, stay warm, rest assured.
Chaos immediately prevailed at the busy intersection. A number of men put on jackets and directed the traffic. What was this kid doing alone on a rainy Saturday morning on his bike on a busy road?
“Where are his parents?” I cried. But there was no one but the spectators. There are no parents in sight. I looked at the nurse in disbelief. ‘Does anyone know where he lives? Who are his parents?
no one knows.
Meanwhile, the child was very panicked. He cried and rolled his eyes. At that moment we saw that he was seriously injured in the head and he was bleeding from his ear. The bad thing was: we couldn’t understand him and he didn’t seem to understand us either. How do you ask the child where mom and dad are? where live?
The ambulance arrived very quickly, I think, eight or nine minutes later. However, it seems that it took a very long time. The people who beat him stayed with him constantly, and they are not to be blamed. Shocked, but worried, they stayed with him. The nurse and I did our best to calm and reassure him, keeping him as stable as possible. The guys managed the traffic and the boy ended up under several blankets to keep him warm. Everyone switched to assist mode. It’s nice to see and yet it’s so tragic, because the baby was left alone.
As Miles was playing his soccer game and I sat on a bench along the line soaked in water for the second time that morning, I noticed that it affected me more than I initially thought. There was a speck of blood still on my coat and I kept seeing that little body in front of me, helplessly lying in the street beside his bike. Fortunately, Miles wasn’t bothered by that, and he didn’t even receive half of it. I had hoped that at the hospital they would find out where the baby came from, and that they would be able to get to his parents now. What a nightmare.
Finally, after Louis’ birthday, I lay in my bed and thought about the battle I had against speed in the area. The board does nothing about it. I know the people who hit the kid weren’t speeding, but you got them there…some of them easily drive 60 or 70 miles per hour in a residential area! And the funny thing is, they often have kids in the back. Why are you driving so fast? You’ll hit a kid that fast. I wish with all my heart that the boy is well and that his parents will be informed soon. When my kids were young, they always had the Habla logo – an iron military insignia – on their jackets with their name and phone number on it. Just for things like that. Fortunately it was never necessary, but it will happen to you. Having an accident is really a little corner and unpredictable for kids, as it turns out.
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