GIVING THANKS

This weekend there was an accident. An accident that could have ended in tragedy, but didn't. An accident that very well could have taken the little life on my Anthony Thomas.

I hesitate to write about this because it so so very fresh in my mind, and so very hard to even think about let alone write about. But I decided that I must, as it is something I need to be able to look back at in order to remind myself how very lucky we are....

We spent our Labor Day weekend on the Sea Ray on Mile Island, the kids spent their days playing in the sand with friends and swinging on the rope swings. The Mr. and I spent our time hanging out on the beach with friends grilling, soaking up the sun and relaxing. Nothing better in my opinion.

Each morning, we had a routine. Wake up, take the pontoon back to the Marina, hop in the car, stop for breakfast, head home to give Liv her morning nap, get cleaned up, and finally head back out to the boat, where we would make our way back to the island for more fun in the sun. This worked out well as it gave us a little break from the festivies to recharge out batteries- some much needed "down time" for all.

Yesterday we were on our way back down to the island on the pontoon, Ava, Lucas and Anthony were as always, kneeling at the front of the boat, holding onto the rail, giggling away as the wind whipped through their hair. I smiled at this site, recalling how my brother, sister and I did that very same thing when we were young. I smiled, knowing that I am able to provide some of these very same memories for my children. Nothing grandious, or off the charts, just simple memories. One's they will remember for a lifetime.

As we were approaching the island, I looked off to the left to see all of our friends waving from the beach. Lucas and Ava had by that time sat down, but Anthony was still at the front of the boat, standing and enjoying the wind and the water. Suddenly, Brian slowed the boat down to turn toward the beach and Anthony flipped over the top of the railing, into the water, and underneath the pontoon. I shouted: "Anthony!!!!!" at the top of my lungs.

Brian frantically put the boat in neutral, and jumped into the river.

A million thoughts went racing through my mind. My baby, my Anthony Thomas, he is gone. Oh my God, my baby is gone. It is all my fault, I am his Momma, I am supposed to protect him. My baby is gone. I will never be able to live with myself. My baby is gone. My baby is gone. My baby is gone.

At that moment time stood still. I waited for what seemed like hours. I waited, hoped, and prayed. Then his head popped out of the water. Thank God. He was screaming and crying, when Daddy got to him, but he was alright. In fact he did not have a single cut, scratch, bump or bruise anywhere on his body. Unbelievable. A small fishing boat picked Brian and Anthony up and brought them both back safely onto the pontoon. Anthony seemed to be in shock and held his arms out toward me for me to hold him. I grabbed him in my arms, and squeezed the living heck out of his soaking wet, shivering little body. I squeezed him and rocked him, and told him how very sorry I was over and over again.

Throughout all of this, Anthony really did not say much. I think he was busy taking it all in, and realizing how scary of an experience it was to literally flip off the front of the boat, underneath it, only to resurface looking at the back of the boat, hundreds of feet from your Mom and Dad.

When we got back to the Sea Ray, I brought him down to the bedroom, got him out of the wet clothes, and layed on the bed with him while we watched Dora together. (His request.) As we layed there, I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his back. I thought about how very lucky we were to still have him. How very lucky we were that he did not get hit by the motor, get caught underneath the boat or drown. There were so many ways in which this could have been a tragedy of mass proportions.

As I tucked him in to watch Dora by himself for a while, I asked: "Anthony, I am so very sorry that happened, Mommy and Daddy will never ever let that happen again."

To which he replied: "It's O.K. I am alright Momma, I just don't want to go in the wadda ever again."

I smiled, gave him kisses and walked onto the top of the boat where I realized I was shaking violently. I sat down on the closest chair I could find and cried. I cried tears of sorrow, tears of relief, tears of joy. I just cried.

Last night I lay in bed for what seemed like hours, replaying the incident over and over again in my head. Thinking of what I could have done so that it would not have happened, thinking of how very tragic it could have turned out to be. Thinking of how I had failed to protect him being I am his Mom. These thoughts consumed me so that I was unable to find sleep, and I suspect that will be the case for quite a while. And this I can handle - it is the thought of ever losing my little boy that I can't.

So today I give thanks. I give thanks that my Anthony Thomas is here, alive and well.