Rita Lawrence tells the story of the horrifying day when her son's seatbelt failed and he was thrown from her moving car.
I am Rita, 29 married to James 38. He and I each have 2 girls from our previous marriages. Emily and Laura are his and Kay and London are mine. We wed in 2001 and James (III, as hubby is a "Jr") was born the same year. The seven of us have lived in Sugar Land, TX since 2000.
In November of 2004, I had just picked up Kay, London and Laura from elementary school. I was driving the Duster (a 1974 2 door large heavy doored car) and baby James was in the front middle of the bench seat. He was 3 and didn't go to school yet. All of the kids were buckled up and the girls were in the back seat. I had noticed earlier in the day that the latch on the door was sticking and needed to be lubricated. I had planned on letting big James know about it when he got home. A teacher had closed the door for the girls when they were picked up so I didn't question it being latched. We left to get Emily from middle school but cut through the neighborhood instead of our usual route.
I turned left at an intersection and suddenly the door swung open. I jerked the wheel to the left out of my surprise over the door and everyone was pulled towards the right of the car. James's seatbelt loosened somehow and he slipped right out of it, and out the door, tumbling onto the pavement. I will never ever forget the sound of his head hitting the ground at 15 mph. It's a sickening cracking thud. I jammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car and ran to him. He was conscious and crying hard. I carefully lifted him out of the intersection and placed him on the hood of my car, keeping him as straight as possible. I held him still and tried to comfort him as he wailed, stroking his cheek and kissing him. Someone stopped and offered to call 911 and I told them I also needed someone to get Emily and call big James. Firefighters were the first responders and they got James strapped down to a board while he fought and cried, and a police officer went to get Emily for me. They loaded James into an ambulance and told me where they were going to take him while I took the kids to a neighbors house to wait for big James to get home, then I did probably 70mph to the hospital and beat the ambulance there.
James didn't have any bleeding or swelling of the brain, no fractures of the skull and was given the ok to go home, with the instructions of giving him tylenol for pain and to come back if he got a high fever or started vomiting, or if i couldn't wake him. I loaded him into my car, strapping him in tighter than ever next to me in the same damn seatbelt, because he was too woozy to be in the back alone. Then he threw up on me. I rushed him back into the hospital, freaked out that he did have an injury that they didn't catch. They cleaned him up and gave him a gown to wear home, he vomited a few more times and they gave me a prescription for a suppository medication to stop the vomiting.
I got him home and settled him in the living room with a bucket, which he used a few more times and ran out to get the script and some pedialyte. Even with the medication, he vomited for the greater part of a week and ran a low-grade fever the entire time as well. He was groggy and slow to react to anything. It was nightmarish and horrifying. He slowly improved over the next week. All the while, I fussed over him and held him almost non-stop, I was so afraid I was going to lose him. I had nightmares for months and sometimes still do. I'm still riddled with guilt to this day. I'm near anxiety-attack levels just writing and thinking about it. He's my Bubby, my little man. I wouldnt be able to endure losing any of my children. Hell, I cry when Emily and Laura go away for the summer. Every year. Like a huge baby.
