I ran some errands on Friday after I got off of work because I had a little time before I had to pick Caleb up from MMO. We needed some things at the grocery store and I had to pick up four more of the never-ending prescriptions from two different pharmacies. (Why, yes, it is that complicated!)
While I was driving, I saw a little yellow helicopter lift off from the hospital, rise above into the sky above me, and take off toward Baltimore.
My little yellow helicopter.
Just like that, a flood of emotions came pouring back into my head. I remembered that night so vividly: the painful contractions that wouldn't stop, despite the heavy medications; the roar of the helicopter engine as it sputtered to life; the naive, excited squeals of a three year old boy who had no idea how much his life was about to change; the fear that gripped me during that 20 minute ride that seemed to take 20 hours; the calmness of the very capable flight nurse; the song "I Have a Maker" that I sang in my head over and over again to help sooth my nerves.
I prayed for the person in that helicopter, because I knew how emotional that flight would be. I prayed for the family, because I've also been "the mom" in the helicopter. There is nothing more terrifying than the helplessness you feel watching your child struggle to breathe.
I don't think I will ever be able to see a medical helicopter in the sky and have it not be an emotional experience, but seeing that little yellow helicopter brought back a whole lot of memories.
Memories that seem very distant as I sit here in a pretty purple room watching my 15 month old daughter sleep peacefully.