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I came crashing through the doors of Max hospital in Gurgaon on that Sunday morning, cradling my little girl in my arms. I could barely think to fill out paperwork, and the familiar fingers of panic began squeezing my heart and mind as I watched her stumble around the waiting room. Fortunately, by this time, I had been on my anti-anxiety medication long enough to at least remain functional in the face of the crisis.
Under normal circumstances I am, what you could call, a freezer. I become immobilized when faced with a disaster or crisis. I stand or sit, stock-still, mouth hanging open with “Whaaa?” on my lips. (Now, whenever Jonathan has to tell me something shocking or disconcerting, he has to say, “Don’t say ‘what?'”) And that’s how I remain. I wish I could say that I snap out of it, but that’s not usually the case. That’s why God gave me Jonathan–so our children would survive their childhood! He springs into action while I stand there looking shocked and befuddled. It’s also why, to this day, our son is not allowed to ride his dirt bike if Jonathan’s not home. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, and I would probably just stand there gaping, wasting crucial minutes of reaction time if he did hurt himself.
Well, there I was, in the middle of one of the worst moments I could imagine, and I was being forced to react. I passed the paperwork over the desk and waited for the doctor to come out and get us. It seemed like an eternity before he finally stepped out and called us to his office…
Erica Barthalow 