I woke up at 6:30 a.m. and put my pants on one leg at a time. I changed Connor and made coffee. I watched the Today show.
And then I fell asleep.
My phone kept ringing, but I thought it was my step-mother calling to make sure she was keeping C for me to go to class at 12:30. I ignored it. I knew I had time to call her back.
It rang again. I ignored it.
It kept ringing.
I woke up close to 11 and checked my phone. There was a call from Marion, my step-mother, a call from Josh and a call from a number I didn't know. I called Josh back but no answer. I was just about to get in the shower when I decided to check in to that number I didn't know, just in case it was something important.
The automatic voice came on and said the name of Josh's work place. In my head, I thought something bad had happened, but I dismissed the thought because it's not unusual for me to jump to the worst conclusion. The receptionist answered and I told her my name and that I was Josh Tobin's wife. She immediately sent me to the manager.
He came on the phone and explained to me that Josh had been in a wreck and even though he was OK, he was being flown to UAB hospital.
My stomach sank. I asked him what to do, what I was supposed to do. I was standing in the hallway of our too expensive apartment that we hadn't even lived in a month, holding my five-month-old son.
I called Josh again but he didn't answer. I found yet another number I didn't know, and I called it.
No answer.
I called my mom. I told her what happened and waited on her to come. I called my step-mother and told her. I called everyone.
I called my best friend, Krysti, but she didn't answer. I knew she was at work, so I just kept calling back to back.
When she called me back, the first thing she said was, "What's wrong?"
I told her and she said she was leaving work to come to my house so she could go to the hospital with me. She lived an hour away.
I called my Tara and told her.
"Shut the hell up," she said. "OK let me check the kids out of school and we'll be there."
She lived three hours away.
I walked around outside, holding my baby who had no idea what was going on. He didn't know that his mother was wondering if she was going to be a widow at 23. He didn't know his mother was sick at the thought of paying for the newly-leased apartment alone. He didn't know that his mother was falling apart.
When my mom got to the house, she got Connor. I went into the bathroom to throw up.
That's when the unknown number called back. It was the paramedic who worked the wreck. He told me that my husband was OK, but because of the nature of the accident, he had to be flown to receive further care.
"The nature of the accident" didn't register with me.
By this time, my step-mother was at my house to get Connor and take him home with her.
My mother asked me if I knew about the other people involved in the wreck. I was ashamed because I hadn't even thought of them.
"I don't know, " I said. "I hope they're not bad hurt though. Josh can't handle it if they're hurt."
A three hour drive from my house to the hospital was Hell. My mother told someone on the phone that Josh was in trauma.
Why was he in trauma if he was OK?
Everyone I talked to, including the nurse who was helping him, told me he was fine. Why hadn't anyone seen him? Why couldn't I talk to him?
Josh's family lives in Birmingham so they were at the hospital. But they hadn't been able to see him.
WHY IN THE HELL HADN'T ANYONE SEEN MY HUSBAND?
I walked into the hospital, and upon entering the waiting room, was taken back to where Josh was being held.
I looked at my husband, laying flat on the gurney, hooked up to IVs and in a neck immobilizer. He had small splats of blood on him from where he was cut. He told me what happened.
I was sick. I was sick because my husband would never be the same. I was sick because the grief that the families of the people in the other car were going through.
There was such a flurry of emotions that I couldn't distinguish them. I didn't cry because I couldn't. I could only hold my husband's hand and tell him how much I loved him, while simultaneously thanking God for protecting Josh. I prayed for the families and I prayed for the people.
Just two days before this, I had one of many meltdowns. I was so scared that Josh was going to get tired of me and leave.
"I will never leave you." He said.
As I held his hand, I wrinkled my brow and in a hushed whisper, yelled at him, "You said you would never leave me. You told me that two days ago. You told me you would never leave me."
"And I didn't," he said.
That was the worst day of 2014 and I don't want to know what could have beat it. It made waking up to a flooding apartment seem minuscule. It made living with my parents for three weeks while we found somewhere else to live, seem like a vacation.
After that day, when I got to be in bed with him again, I held on to him tighter than I ever have. I buried my head in him and breathed him in. I thanked God over and over for allowing him to stay with me. I praised God for protecting my husband, and keeping Connor from growing up without a dad.
It was two months before Josh could go back to work. In the days that followed, he had to sit in our apartment while I went to work and school. He had nothing to do except think about the wreck and the people in it. He was in his own personal Hell...and I'm not sure that he'll ever be completely out of it.
2014 was hard for us. 2014 was a year that challenged us as a couple and a family. 2014 challenged our faith.
But 2014 showed us that we are strong. 2014 showed us that we love each other, even when we don't like one another. 2014 showed us that God is powerful, and even though we don't understand Him sometimes, He doesn't leave us and he doesn't fail.
So although 2014 was a storm that we successfully weathered, I don't want even the slightest drizzle of it brought into this next year.
Here's to 2015 being a better year, bringing with it joy, peace and happiness. Now that the clouds have parted, I am ready to look into the sun and see the beauty that has been brought because of the rain.
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