Hi. I'm a mom and my 9 year-old son and I were in a multi-car rollover accident 11/7/11.

We were just driving along, following my husband who hauls oversize loads. I drive as his rear escort car and our son, Andrew, attended online school.

At the time of the accident, Andrew was logged onto his Monday math class, waiting for his teacher to log on. My husband, ahead of us, was hauling a generator for a wind mill; the load was very wide and he was unable to see me. However, we did have communication by CB radio. My vehicle had an amber lightbar on top, red flags, and "Oversize Load" banners attached to the front and back. Ahead of my husband's truck were two other escort vehicles, each with the same oversize requirements. We were traveling north on a two-lane road.

I never saw the small Ford Ranger pick-up truck that struck my vehicle on the driver side. Unconscious, my vehicle spun into the southbound lane, and then was struck on the passenger side by a full-size Ford F-250 pick-up truck, killing Andrew instantly.

I regained consciousness and saw Andrew sitting really close to me. Figuring he was unconsciousas as I had been, I touched his hair, stroking it and telling him "everything is going to be fine."  When he didn'trespond to me, I thought, of course he can't hear me...he's unconscious...and that was okay. He wouldn't panic. I didn't know where my left arm was, and my head was through the sunroof. I was unaware we had flipped and rolled down a hill, coming to rest on the passenger side of the vehicle.

My orientation off, I again touched Andrew with my right hand, on his right shoulder, then his left. Satisfied that he looked and felt "okay," I began answering a man's voice, he was asking me questions, such as, "what's your name? Do you know where you are?" It was very bright and very loud...lots of voices, a helicopter, and the sounds of what was my vehicle being pryed open.  I was told "hold still, this might hurt," not knowing if it was the Jaws of Life the firefighters were using, or the backboard and neck brace being put under and around me.

Concerned that I had not yet heard anything from Andrew, I told the rescuers, "I'm fine, please get my son out first." Both at the same time, two men spoke, one saying, "there's a boy in there??" and the other one saying, "we have to get you out of the way to get to him."

Not wanting to panic and scare Andrew, I asked him to pray with me. I began reciting the Lord's Prayer, listening for Andrew's voice. I didn't hear him, thinking that maybe the loud helicopter was why.  At that moment, I realized all I could see was sky and trees, followed by the plain white ceiling of the helicopter. Scissors tore through my jeans, shirt, bra and underwear, as the faces of a man and a woman appeared in my line of vision.

They told me we'd be flying to a trauma center, about a 30 minute flight. I asked if Andrew was in the helicopter with us. One of them told me no, there were people on the ground taking care of him. I asked if they could call whoever is on the ground. I needed to know how my son was. Again, I was told no, they're busy getting him out of the Tahoe, but that I could inquire about his condition when we got to the trauma center.

While in-flight, I was unaware of two things:  one, that Andrew did not survive, and two, the wherabouts of my husband.  I found out later that when he tried to reach me by radio and I didn't answer, he wasn't too concerned, as he knew I'd be coaching Andrew with his schoolwork.  Later, he tried my cell phone...no answer.  So then, he sent one of his front-escorts back behind him.  When told I wasn't there, he was surprised and doubted the escort.  Figuring I had gotten a flat tire, he found a place to pull over, which isn't easy when the truck and trailer are 115 feet long.

About this time, the police called his cell phone to inform him of the accident.  They had gotten his number from the magnetic "pilot car" signs on my Tahoe.  Before he could get to me, the police gave him  a DOT inspection.  The officer was very apologetic to my husband, but still had to do it.  My husband got to the accident site, only to be held back by the police.  He could only get close enough to see the F-250 on my car, and the helicopter on the road.  He had no idea if either Andrew or I were alive.

At the hospital, it seemed like I was handled and talked to by a million different people...trauma doctors, nurses, etc.  I learned that I had been given an alias, "Trauma Albany," to protect my identity from the media.  I really didn't know I had broken bones and bloody lacerations.  I could not understand why nobody was telling me anything about Andrew.  So I asked, "WHERE IS MY SON!?" and was told that the hospital didn't treat children, that IF he was taken to a hospital, it would be a children's hospital.

Certainly, I thought, Andrew was okay.  When I last saw him in the Tahoe, his back was turned to me.  He was sitting upright, but his seat was gone.  The center console was gone.  He sat at my knees, just an arm's length away.  From the top of his head to the middle of his back was all I could see, but everything looked normal.

What was a 30 minute flight for me was a couple hours drive for my husband.  He still had not reached the hospital when a doctor came to my bed and told me, "I'm sorry, but your son didn't make it."  I didn't believe him.  Really, I didn't believe anybody telling me that Andrew was gone.  Not even my husband when he got to the hospital.  I spent the next 6 days there with a broken left wrist that required surgery, 2 broken right-side ribs, cuts and bruises all over, and a broken bone in my lower back that wasn't severe enough for surgery. 

The accident was on a Monday, surgery on Friday, and I was released on a Sunday.  It was on that Sunday, November 13th, 2011 that I saw for myself...Andrew was dead.  It is a reality that I struggle with every moment of every day.  I can't believe my baby is gone.

I still have breath in me.  I don't know why.  I'm alive, Andrew is not.  I can't fathom how this could possibly be part of God's plan...a part that's supposed to make sense later??

If you've read this far, thank-you for taking the time.  Nobody I know knows how I feel.

Do you?