Part 1
It was a Thursday morning when my alarm went off waking my husband and me up for the last time. It was the last time I would ever wake up next to my husband, Colby. It was the final time we would ever wake up next to each other at all.
We both got ready for one of the final doctor’s appointments with my OBGYN because I was eight and a half months pregnant with our first child. I was on bed rest at the tail end of my pregnancy because I had a lot of complications throughout the months, so we were staying at my parent's house for the time being instead of our second-floor apartment. My doctor’s office was a straight shot down the road about two miles from my parent's house, so this setup was perfect for Colby and me.
We had an ultrasound that morning and it showed my son was already in the birth canal. HE’S GOING TO BE HERE ANY MINUTE!!
So around 11 in the morning, Colby and I got back in the car so we could tell my parents that their first grandchild was about to be here soon, but we would never make it there.
We pulled up to a red light at one of the last intersections before we were at my parents and when it turned green, we started accelerating making the final 30-second drive until we would be there. At this point in the intersection, we were so close to our destination that we could just barely see the cul-de-sac that my parents lived on from where we were. But before we could even see the other car, it was already too late. Our small two-door sedan was struck on the driver’s side at over 100 miles per hour in a 35-speed limit.
The driver of the other car had made some really poor choices previously in his life, but nothing like the choices he was about to make that day. 30-something-year-old Jason Miller had just been released from prison for his part in a drive by shooting that resulted in the death of an elderly man. Unfortunately, there aren't many details of the drive by incident, but it was essentially treated as a slap on the wrist for Jason. The courts thought he adequately served his time and learned his lesson, so they paroled him for good behavior.
| Three months pass by.
Please note that I don’t remember what happened next because I was knocked unconscious for the next couple of weeks, so this is all recounted by my family, the first responders, eyewitnesses, and video surveillance. |
June 25, 2015, that very same Thursday morning, Jason would make the worst decision of his life that would affect so many other lives to come.
Around the same time Colby and I were leaving our doctor’s appointment, Jason was probably driving around with not a care in the world. He was most likely lost in his thoughts while driving; when he forgot to signal a turn which caught the attention of a police officer on a motorcycle. The officer turned on his lights to pull Jason over, but then Jason remembered that not only was the car not even his, but it had just recently been reported stolen and a BOLO (be on the lookout) had been put out for it. Instead of being a good Samaritan and pulling over as the majority of society would do, he put the pedal to the medal and tried to outrun the motorjocky.
The officer immediately kicks into gear and chases after him. His speedometer reads 45... then 70... then 80... and now over 100 mph until our paths finally cross and come to a crashing halt in that intersection.
After he collided into us, both cars were completely totaled with airbags deployed, but that didn’t stop Jason from his attempt to flee. He climbed out of the sunroof to continue his chase on foot, but the only downfall was that all of this took place right off the access road from one of the busiest highways in DFW (Dallas/Fort Worth), so he wasn’t able to get very far before he was apprehended.
Colby was pronounced deceased on the scene. He was pushed into me by the other car which pinned me into my passenger door. My head hit and shattered the passenger window on impact causing me to lose my life as well while I was carrying my first child. One of the first responders opened the passenger door and he had to catch me from falling out of the car. That’s when they noticed that I was pregnant and began to resuscitate my lifeless body to save my son’s life.
We were airlifted to JPS Hospital in Fort Worth and saving my son was everyone’s number one priority, so the doctors delivered him by vertical emergency c-section the minute we landed. When he was delivered, the doctors learned that he sustained a lot of injuries because the placenta had been totally severed due to the impact of the wreck. He went without oxygen for too long, so tiny spots all over his brain began to die. Because of that, my son had to spend the first few weeks of his life in the NICU where both sides of the family got to see him and hold him before I did. There was a time not long after the wreck took place when both my and my son's doctors didn't think he nor I would pull through since we had been so severely hurt.
Once my son was delivered, my parents who were now my next of kin had to make the hard decision to either fight like hell to save my life so I can be here for my son, or let me succumb to my injuries and join my husband in heaven. They were told that I would have a 50% chance of surviving if I underwent brain surgery, but I wouldn't make it through the night without immediate medical intervention.
My dad told the doctors what any hurt but hopeful father would say, “Do whatever you have to do to save my little girl.” Before anyone could take another breath or even sign consent forms, I was wheeled off for more emergency surgery but this time, I was going in for brain surgery. Time was truly of the essence.
After losing all of my beautiful blonde hair from brain surgery, I was in a medically induced coma for two weeks. Those weeks were very sensitive because the doctors weren’t sure if I was even going to wake up and if I did, what kind of condition I would be in. But thankfully, I began waking up and becoming aware of my surroundings around July 6th. Although I had finally come to, I woke up to a lot of cognitive delays and setbacks that would eventually take years to recover from. My family printed hundreds of pictures of my son and put them up all around in my hospital room. They also put up beautiful pictures of Colby and me that started to really pique my curiosity because I couldn’t understand how I got in the hospital and what happened to me. The last thing I remembered before waking up in the hospital was going over to my in-laws the night before for dinner.
Still to this day, I don't remember anything about that morning and believe my mind was protecting me from remembering the tragic details of that morning. When I woke up in the hospital bed oblivious to what happened, I was EXTREMELY confused and frustrated because I couldn't ask the questions I wanted answers to.
Where is Colby? Why isn’t my husband here by my side? How did I give birth to my son and I don’t remember it?
I just became a mom and I’m already fucking it up by not remembering his birth. You're off to a fantastic start, Kristen.
I couldn’t talk for a couple of days after my coma because I still had tubes down my nose and throat, but I was able to scribble on a notepad. So I scribbled to my parents, "What happened to Colby?" They responded with the truth but were as vague as possible so they wouldn't overwhelm me with the details. I was told that there was an accident, Colby didn’t make it, and that my son was delivered as a result of the impact of the wreck.
I reacted how anyone else would react in my position - I cried, I screamed, I was really angry. How could this happen? Why did this happen? My son's birthdate is also the death date of his daddy.
Then my fragile and healing mind would shift my focus to my miracle baby and how his condition was doing after coming into this world in such a cruel way. My tears dried and the redness in my face softened. Then I would look up and get distracted by those beautiful pictures again and wonder where’s my husband. So I would scribble to my parents again asking where he was, and they would retell the story to me over and over. It was a lot like Groundhog Day.
Because my traumatic brain injury (TBI) was so severe, I wasn’t able to retain new information for the first few days I was awake from my coma. So I was like our friend 10 Second Tom from 50 First Dates. You could tell me the most horrific story in the world, which actually ended up being my reality at the time, and I wouldn’t remember it 10 seconds later. I not only had to hear the tragic news of my husband's passing over and over again, but my parents had to relive telling that tragic story to their emotionally and physically scarred daughter.
Each day, however, I was getting a little bit better, stronger, and making incredible progress so I got to move to another hospital that was a rehabilitation facility. It was an in-patient facility for me to relearn to walk, bathe, use the restroom, cook, and so on.
And that’s where the hard work of recovering, healing, and grieving started.
To Be Continued With More MissFit Diaries...
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