As I slowly became aware of my surroundings I realized I was traveling with the fire chief in his truck. As I focused on him I found myself staring at his face searching for some clue of what he was saying. He was speaking quite animatedly and gestured with his right hand for emphasis. At first I thought I couldn'’t hear him because of ocean water in my ears. But after awhile I realized I just couldn’'t hear anything at all, and thought that perhaps it was my brain’s way of protecting me, of shutting out the world.
I turned to look straight ahead at the road but had no idea where we were because I had never been to that part of Serenity Beach before. All I seemed to know was that we were following the ambulance, heading to the nearest hospital. I would learn everything else once we got there.
Somehow I slipped away once again because the next thing I remember was the fire chief picking me up and carrying me out of the truck and placing me gently on a stretcher in the parking lot. Feeling embarrassed I said weakly: “"I…... I think I can walk.”"
"“Not with those nasty cuts on your feet,"” he said pointing to my bare feet. As I looked down I realized that not only my feet were bare, but that my pants were soaking wet. In fact, my entire body was soaking wet.
"“I don’t feel a thing"” I said puzzled, looking at myself.
“"I’'m sure you don’t... you’re suffering from hypothermia.”" He then turned to the hospital staff that had just met us. He began telling them what had happened as I slowly tuned them out. I remembered that in all the commotion, no one had noticed the cuts on my feet. Not even me.
Once we got inside the warm hospital room I began to shiver uncontrollably. A few short minutes later I started to feel the sharp pinpricks in my hands and legs. Because of my violent shaking I wasn't able to answer any questions. Giving them information would have to wait till later. As the nurses helped me remove my wet pants and running bra, they decided to ask only those questions I could nod my head yes or no to. After awhile, they quietly began taking my vital signs and drawing blood, which allowed my mind to drift once again.
I found myself back at the beach looking at the horizon, moments before I would jump in the water for the 2nd time. I suddenly sat up in bed gasping for air startling everyone in the room. In spite of my uncontrollable shivering I forced myself to ask, "What… happened… to… the… baby?"
Everyone was quiet and after briefly glancing up and exchanging glances between them they continued working, as if they didn't know what I was talking about or didn't understand me. I turned to the fire chief who had just walked into the room and stopped at the foot of my bed.
“"They’re working on her right now. “I’ll let you know how she’s doing as soon as I check on her, but for now you need to lay down and let the nurses put the oxygen mask on you and get the iv into your arm."
I looked at the nurse, tubes in one hand, a needle in the other, waiting for me to settle back down on the bed. Stabbing pains kept shooting up my legs with a growing intensity that wouldn'’t stop.
The water had been painfully cold when I jumped in. Although I hesitated for a few seconds, I knew I had no choice as soon as I realized what I was looking at. At first glance I thought it was a loose log from the old pier, but as I stared more intently, I knew it was a woman floating in the water. As I dialed 911, I debated whether or not I should go in. As I took off my jacket, sweatshirt and sneakers I wondered if I had enough energy and strength to pull her to safety, especially having undergone chemotherapy the day before.
The last time I was on that beach I almost lost my life struggling against a strong undercurrent while trying to save a 5 yr old. I was afraid this time I wouldn't be so lucky, and would leave my son an orphan. But then I thought, if it were my son out there I'd want someone to do whatever they could to save him. I prayed out loud as I ran towards and then jumped into the icy water.
Somehow I managed to get her out and pull her onto the sand to began CPR. At the same time I started frantically screaming for help. I hoped that even if no one could hear me at least someone would see me. I prayed hard that help would come soon as my arms were starting to get tired. As luck would have it there was a group of off duty firefighters having a celebration at a nearby restaurant. Within minutes they were at my side. Just as I let go, to let them take over CPR compressions the woman began throwing up and choking.
It was only when she came to and began asking for her baby that the terrible realization gripped me: I never looked for anyone else. As the firefighters and I raced towards the water leaving her in the care of others just arriving I told them where I had found the mother floating in the water. They asked me to climb the rocky pier and do a visual search for the baby. It was only when I got to the end of the rocks that I looked down and saw the baby’s naked body being pushed against the rocks by the waves. As I screamed at the firefighters I realized they had gone too far out and couldn;’t hear me over the ocean. I decided I’d have to take a running jump off the rocks to try and avoid them as I went into the water. Then I could swim back to fish the baby out. By my calculations we had already lost 7 minutes and we couldn’t waste any more time.
As I jumped in the firefighters took notice and swam towards me. They met me at the edge of the sand and helped me get out of the water then took the baby from my arms to begin CPR. I took a few steps after them and finally collapsed on my hands and knees, too exhausted to go any further.
Suddenly, there was a hand waving in front of my face. "“Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you hear me?"”
I slowly turned to see who was talking to me and barely nodded my head. The man in the white Dr's coat then asked, “"Do you think you can tell us about your medical history?"
I tried saying the words 'Yes', but my teeth were clenched shut from the tightness in my muscles and uncontrollable shaking. I had been half naked in the frigid water too long. I managed to say the word “cell” loud enough for the fire chief to realize I wanted my cell phone. After they stopped trying to convince me that I couldn'’t make a call I said the word “ICE”, after which the fire chief produced my phone and looked in my contacts info under ICE. There, aside from my emergency contacts was a memo with the most important facts of my medical history. Once the doc confirmed there was no frostbite, he asked for more blankets and a heater to be brought into my room.
Turning once again to the Fire chief, I said the one word I cared most about at that moment, “
"Baby?"” The fire chief hesitated before answering and that pause made me fear the worst. RSM’s words quickly flashed before my eyes, ‘"we lose more than we save’". I was fervently praying for the odds and blessings to be in her favor.
"Baby?"” The fire chief hesitated before answering and that pause made me fear the worst. RSM’s words quickly flashed before my eyes, ‘"we lose more than we save’". I was fervently praying for the odds and blessings to be in her favor.
“They’re still working on her, she’s in a coma.” As I heard this tears began streaming down my face, all I could do was ask God to help her. As much as I wanted her to live, I knew she had been in the water far too long. Too long to recover and lead a normal happy life. So I resumed my prayers for either a miraculous recovery or a quick and merciful death. All while remembering the words "the odds are against us".
I just couldn't let go of hope, I was all she had left at the moment rooting for her as her mom had slipped into unconsciousness. I had seen the infant as they had taken her from my arms, in spite of the many cuts and bruises on her body, she was a beautiful little girl of about 8 months old. The memory of her wet long blond hair framing her sweet angelic face as I held her, made me finally break down.
It was only when I was released from the hospital that I learned the baby’s name was Brook. The next day I also learned that she got out of her coma long enough to lose her fight and was pronounced dead Monday at 12:15pm.
The incredible pain in my body from the rescue effort, is nothing compared to the overwhelming pain in my heart when I learned from Police Monday night that Brook's mother is being charged with homicide, after admitting she botched their suicide attempt. The overpowering anger at having saved a murderer only adds to the guilt of having failed an innocent helpless child.
Words fail me, as my brain tries to manage understanding all of this. There is very little anyone can say or do to make this loss less painful. I've learned by now that only in time will I begin to accept all of this, even when I don't understand or forgive myself or her mother.
