A Mother's Nightmare

If you've never had an adrenaline rush you have no idea about the exhaustion I'm feeling right now coming off of such a rush. Here's the story:

Ironically, Johnny and I discussed adrenaline rushes at dinner. We mentioned the fact that a mother can do just about anything when protecting her children. Why do we have conversations like this?

Johnny left after dinner to teach dance from 5:30-10pm. The boys and I shuttled off on our customary evening stroll. A bike trail runs behind our house and ends in a park on either side. The right edge of the trail tapers down a steep 20 ft. into the Little Goose river. It is a very pleasant half mile walk to Zachary's favorite park. We spent a little while there playing on the swings before taking the trek back home. As we crossed a foot bridge over the river (which is on our left heading home) we ran into a very friendly rancher yelling genially at his Yellow Lab to "git back over here." He explained to me that "Dude" is excited because he's a rancher dog and has never been into town.

"We never come to town."

We bade "Dude" and the large rancher farewell and headed on our way. The man crossed to the other side of the river and sat on a set of picnic tables while Dude continued to romp and sniff.
About 100 yards away Zach insisted that we stop at his favorite bench to sit and look down at some ducks taking a swim. We do this fairly often. Leaving Gabriel buckled in, I locked the double stroller and sat down beside Zach. I turned to check on Gabriel just in time to see a mother's nightmare coming true.

The stroller was careening, ever so slowly in my mind's eye, down the steep hill towards the river.

I can't really tell you what happened between the beginning of Gabriel's descent to the edge of the river. Adrenaline took over and I dove after him. All I know is that I slid down and grabbed the stroller before it slid into the water. There was a very small plateau at the bottom, just large enough for the stroller. It slowed the slide enough for me to keep my baby out of the water.
Gabriel was buckled. He didn't have a scratch. Zachary stood at the top of the hill the whole time. He didn't try to follow. The rancher and "Dude" came and pulled the stroller back up. The only injuries suffered were some minor scratches on my arm.

I cannot even describe my gratitude to God for rescuing my son. I see each little perfect detail as a miracle. You can call me a religious nut if you want, but you are not going to convince me that an extremely friendly Sheridan rancher (you have to live here to get why that's weird) who has never been into town just happened to walk by us, stop near enough to help, then cheerfully pull us out without a second thought, was not an angel sent for us. There was no one else on the trail to help. That's a miracle. A two year old doesn't stay put while his mother sprints down a hill and starts to cry at the bottom. That's a miracle. There was one small plateau at the bottom of that ravine were Gabriel, stroller and I landed. That's a miracle. There was not so much as a bruise on Gabey. That's a miracle.

Praise the Lord.