The Fryer Clan: Losing Hudson and Eli...

So I can officially say that January 27th 2010, was the worst day of my entire life. Obviously, because I can blog about it- all turned out fine but I was freaked out of my mind. After picking up Hudson and Eli at the sitters, I drove home and let the boys play out in the backyard. I had to pee, so I went upstairs to relieve myself and grab some art supplies to do a project with my boys. I came back outside and I couldn't see the boys. I looked in the barn, checked to make sure my front gate wasn't open, I noticed the back gate was ajar and went to my back field which leads to 3.5+ acres of woods. I looked in the small barn. I didn't see them anywhere. I started yelling their names. I started screaming their names. I ran to the trail head and screamed some more. I ran to the house and checked everywhere screaming and screaming. I ran to call Keith and my cell phone died. I ran back to the back field and screamed for the boys more. Went into the woods... started getting desparate...I ran across the street to my neighbors. Beating on doors. Screaming at cars driving by. No one stopped. Fell to my knees with nausea and lack of oxygen. My neighbor comes out and says she'll call the police. A man comes out into the streets tries to get information from me. He starts stopping cars to make sure the children aren't in them and see if anyone has seen them.

I run back to the backfield screaming hysterically. The man comes back with me. He doesn't know about the trailhead so starts to jump into the thickets grabbing trees with his fresh wounds of a new tattoo on his palm. I can't breath... it is soo cold and the thoughts going through my head are of the worst kind imaginable. I am sure my children are gone forever. I can't believe it. I have no idea how I am going to live my life without them. Forty-five agonizing minutes have gone by. I can hear the sirens in the distance. I am sobbing, hysterical. My heart has completely broken. And then I hear a sarcastic voice on the side of steep ravine, that agrown man is struggling to keep his footing on. " Mommy, I'm right here." The man, who I later found out was named Nick, said, "Is that them?". I sobbed, "Yes, yes, yes."
The relief turned into shock. I couldn't run up the hill to them at first. I started scrambling up the hill slipping on icy snow. There they had been 20 feet from me the whole time, hiding on a hillside behind a giant brushpile. I couldn't imagine them in that place, hearing me scream and being afraid that I was mad at them because of the desparation in my voice.

We got to the top and Nick told me he was so happy I found my children and we hugged. We were both crying. It was that moment that I figured out that Nick's 1.5 year old daughter had just passed away from spinal meningitis 2 weeks before. I felt so guilty that I got to have a second chance with my children and he didn't. I wanted so much for him not to go back home to an empty house, my worst fear the 2 minutes before.

I went back to the house and began a major hyper-ventilation episode. I called my friend, Jennifer, and she instructed me to drink water to try and get a breath. I just couldn't catch my breath. The anxiety completely racked my body. Hudson and Eli couldn't understand why I was crying so hard. Hudson kept saying, "Your boys are fine mommy." When Keith returned home he tried to console me but the hugs made me feel like I was losing my breath. He was frustrated because he was freaked out and couldn't handle the emotions exploding into the room. He sat at the kitchen table and I sat on the floor and Hudson got into my lap. My head started to spin and I had to get the breath. In bodywork we know that the only way to get an inhale is to fully and completely exhale. So the most primal gutteral moans started to escape from the depths of my belly. I couldn't control them it was like the push phase of labor, truly. I just let the fullness of my grief leave my body so that I could breath in the new emotions of gratitude, relief, neutrality, and the anger that would hit me in the next days to come.

The family was on edge and the boys were so confused and angry themselves because of the house was feeling so stressed. They weren't listening to me and it was making me extremely anxious to take them out of the house. I told them if they didn't listen to me that I was going to take the t.v. away. I told them that I was angry that they didn't answer me. I asked them over and over again, "why?" Hudson said he didn't want any help getting out of the woods. Eli was just calling me a bad mommy, stinky butt. Normally, I could laugh that off but my feelings were really hurt. I took the t.v. up to our third floor and started spending total quality time with them. We painted a million pictures the day after. Played mommy and baby games, Keith built pirate ships and cars. We talked continuously about listening to us. If we tell you to answer, answer. The first weekend Keith kept Eli and I took Hudson to the museum center. Eli was still not listening and being contentious. Hudson was saying, "Mommy, I will listen to you. I promise." So we went and had a great time bonding. Keith and Eli did a lot of bonding, too. I felt like the family was starting to get back to normal and the feelings in the children were starting to subside. The next few days I had some more time with Eli and he started cuddling with me again and not hitting me. He had gotten really freaked out when I was screaming for them. Of course, he didn't know that it was because I loved him so much. I decided that I was ready to take both boys out of the house together and go do an activity. We went to the museum center and played a call and response game in the cave exhibit. They could run a little bit ahead and I would call "Yip Yip" and they would answer "Yee" . Making a game out of it was a much better way to handle the situation and now I feel like we have code word for "I'm worried about you, please answer me."

The enormity of the feelings I had experienced took a drain on my brain and body. It took about a week to sleep through the night without waking up with panic and anxiety. The feelings I had when I had post-partum depression were back. I was like a zombie, going through the motions but not feeling happiness. I would tear up at work describing what happened to clients, who I had cancelled due to these feelings. Keith was having a very hard time understanding me. He had not lived through it. When I thought about it Nick was the only person who could truly get it. He was there living it with me. I wanted to go and see Nick. I had a sympathy card and a lasgna as a token representation of the sorrow I felt for he and his wife. I knew he was a neighbor but I didn't know which one was his house. I was nervous to go over. I knew how horrible I felt and I got my kids back. I couldn't imagine how they were feeling, although I had a horrific glance into their perspective.

Yesterday, I finally figured out where they lived and I had the lasagna and card and nervously trasped up the walkway. Megan his wife opened the door and invited me in. She smiled at me, "How are you?" "Good," I said and out of habit I returned the question. The question lingered because of course her heart was broken into a million pieces. I wanted to kick myself. We sat down and made small talk and I was thankful. Nick came in and hugged me and we recounted the hunt for my boys from both of our perspectives. I began to realize that if Nick hadn't of lost his daughter, he wouldn't of been home and he might not have come to help me. He said he saw other neighbors go back in their houses when they saw me screaming but he knew it was the primal cry of a mother who had just lost a child. He had just heard that scream in his own house. Normally, he would have been at work but he was too sad to go that day. He had just lit some incense and prayed to (in his words) "Whatever is out there." 'Why did I lose my child and what is my purpose in this world?' He said he felt like my scream was his answer. I was so glad I went over there. I was glad that his being able to help me gave him some kind of peace.