Sep 05, 2012 / by Alisa Hafen / No Comments

The night my two boys were able to join me at the hospital after my accident, we all slept in the same room. Three year-old Christian laid next to me in my hospital bed, and Kyler slept beside his mom on a cot next to us.

As Christian slipped in beside me he asked, “Daddy, why are you wearing a diaper?” Up to that point, I really didn’t know that I was! That next morning, Christian nudged me awake.

“Daddy, I had a bad dream last night. I dreamed about the bale of hay falling, and the helicopter that took you away. I had a bad dream, and I wet the bed.”

Being as understanding as I could be, I told him that things were going to be all right, and that he didn’t need to worry.

Just about that time, the nurse came in. Christian pulled the sheet up over his head.
“Christian,” the nurse said, “I need you to wake up now.”
“I’m asleep,” he answered back.
“Christian, I need your help this morning. It’s time for breakfast.”
“I’ll have breakfast in bed this morning, thank you!” he replied.
“Christian, I need your help getting your dad ready for his day.” This was her final request.

With that, Christian popped his head out and yelled, “I can’t. My dad wet the bed!”
You can imagine my reaction, half shock, half amazement, that this three year old had so
quickly found a solution for his dilemma! The nurse came to the bed and checked things
out. Finding me dry as a bone, she said,“Christian, your dad is dry!”
“That’s because he pee’d all over me!” Christian exclaimed.

How quickly he had found a way to deflect the responsibility of his situation. He was not taking any responsibility for what had happened. Instead he was blaming me, and convincing everyone else as well. How many times do we point fingers at those around us, when truly we need to evaluate our own choices? At that point, Christian helped me to see that I too had been blaming others. I too had not been willing to take personal responsibility for my choices that led to my accident.

I blamed the tractor for malfunctioning. I blamed the bale of hay. I blamed the doctors
for not giving me essential steroids right away at the hospital. I blamed the rescue workers for not simply cutting the strings on the bale of hay. I even blamed Shondell for not finding me sooner.

Ultimately I had to cut the strings myself, and take responsibility for the decision that I
personally had made the night of my accident. When I was able to do that, my life again took on meaning and direction.

“In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.”
– Eleanor Roosevelt