Where do I begin?

About two years ago, when we lived in Wichita, I read a horrible story about a three year old who was killed in the drive thru at a McDonald's we frequented.  It really shook me up.  After that, I told Truman repeatedly to watch for cars, never cross the street without an adult, etc.  To the point where he would tell other kids to get out of the street, even when he was as young as 18 months old!  We had a "one hand on the car" rule if I was ever getting something out or putting something in the car and couldn't hold his hand.  I put a chain lock on my front door and door knob covers on the door to the garage, just to make sure he never left the house without me.  Him being hit by a car was my worst nightmare.  

That's why on October 31st, 2008, I couldn't even believe it when my husband called me at work to tell me Truman had been hit by a car.  I rushed to the emergency room the whole time praying and hoping that he had just been bumped, maybe a broken bone or two, but nothing serious.  It's what I wanted so badly to believe.  When I arrived, there was  woman waiting for me outside of the ER entrance.  I told her I was there to see my son, Truman.  She said, " I know who you are." This is when my heart sank.  She ushered me into a little room where a chaplain was waiting with my husband.  I couldn't bear the thought that my boy was not going to be ok.  How could God take him away from me after all it took to get him here?  We tried for several years, spent thousands on infertility treatments, suffered through several ectopic pregnancies, and finally gave up hope when Truman surprised us all -even the doctors!  Now, I was facing the possibility of losing him.  I thought this is all I have, this can't really be happening.  The next 30 minutes were impossible.  I was not allowed to see him.  Police, volunteers, witnesses, his babysitter and preschool teacher came in and out of the room.  All I wanted to do was see my baby.  They told me they were flying him to a hospital in Springfield with a pediatric intensive care unit, but I would not be able to go with him.  I finally got to see him a few minutes before he left on the helicopter.  His bloody face, swollen eye, a chest tube keeping him alive.  He wouldn't squeeze my hand or talk to me.  A nurse handed me his little shoes in a bag.  I signed some papers, and they took him away.