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Bye-Bye Syndrome
In the months following Alec's death, Adriann and Bill Nelson both had trouble sleeping, eating and concentrating on ordinary tasks like making beds or paying bills. "It was tough just to get up and function every day," recalls Bill. They went to bereavement counseling -- as did Derek and Sonia -- and read every book at the local library about losing a child, hoping to find some sentence or thought that might console them. Mostly, they prayed. "I don't know where we would have been without our faith," Bill says.Adriann's father was another story. When he was out in the community, he felt that people were looking at him, thinking, There's the one who killed him -- it's all his fault. Guilt hollowed him out. He could hardly feel anything, and he cried frequently. On the night of the tragedy, Adriann told him, "I forgive you. It's no one's fault."
But, says Raschdorf, "I can never forgive myself. It would have been better if it'd happened to me."
The Nelsons had no idea how common back-over accidents were until they searched the Internet. There they came across Kids and Cars (kidsandcars.org). The Kansas-based nonprofit group is backing legislation before Congress to set visibility standards for vehicles based on what the driver can see when backing up.
Through Kids and Cars, the Nelsons learned that the so-called bye-bye syndrome is often a cause of these accidents: Not wanting to be left behind when they see parents or other relatives leave the house, many toddlers wander out after them, undetected. Adriann and Bill also met dozens of families who had experienced similar tragedies and took strength from them.
Six months after Alec died, the Nelsons attended a nearby fund-raiser to support the safety bill. Called the Cameron Gulbransen Kids and Cars Safety Act, it was named after a two-year-old Long Island child whose father, a pediatrician, accidentally killed him when he backed over the boy in his SUV in 2002. At the event, Bill and Adriann were inspired by Dr. Greg Gulbransen's strength and resolve, and decided to launch an event -- an annual Alec's Run ( alecsrun.com) -- in their own community to help raise public awareness about the dangers of SUV blind spots. At the time, Adriann was five months pregnant.
In Garland, Texas, 1,400 miles from the Nelsons' Long Island home, Rachel and David Clemens go through the motions of their daily lives, even though their world has unraveled. David picks up their eight-year-old son, Andrew, from school, and Rachel fixes a snack for the boy and his friend when they get home. But signs of the unspeakable tragedy they recently suffered are all around: a half-finished tile floor in the kitchen, a disassembled stereo and the tears that come so easily when Rachel talks about that October morning in 2004.
While David was fixing breakfast on that Saturday, Rachel showered. Afterward, as Rachel blow-dried her hair, two-and-a-half-year-old Adrianna joined her on a bench in the bathroom. Mother and daughter were planning to go shopping together later in the day. Adrianna was a joyous child, an extrovert, with blue eyes and curly blond hair. She loved to dance and make her big brother laugh. "I remember looking at her and thinking how perfect she was," says Rachel. "God had blessed us."
After breakfast, David went to the garage to pull out the family's Halloween decorations. He got into their Infiniti SUV and slowly backed it up to give himself some more room. Then he felt a bump. He had accidentally run over Adrianna, who had wandered out of the house without anyone seeing her. His daughter died instantly from the impact.
For months after the accident, both Rachel and David struggled to get through each day. Both sought counseling, and David, formerly a successful TV news producer and marketing specialist, began taking an antidepressant, which did nothing to assuage his guilt. He routinely found himself pacing, smoking and fidgeting, as if trying to free himself from his own skin -- and the unrelenting pain.
"We had a good marriage and a wonderful family life," says David, "and in a second, everything was ruined. I blame myself. If it hadn't been for my son, I likely would have taken my own life."
Because David was unable to work for a long time, the Clemenses fell behind on their mortgage and began living on credit cards. Friends and relatives encouraged them to try to move on. But, says David, "it's something you never get over. The pain never goes away." They talked about having another child but remained stuck in grief, unable to forgive themselves or each other, their simmering anger often erupting into shouting matches. "You murdered our daughter," Rachel would sometimes yell.
"Where were you?" David would shout back. "Why didn't you keep an eye on her?"
Like the Nelsons, they turned to their faith for comfort, and made contact with Kids and Cars, joining other bereaved parents to lobby lawmakers to pass the federal safety bill. In honor of Adrianna, they started their own website, adriannasrule.com.
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