My Two-Year-Old Died a Preventable Tragedy, and It Haunts Me Daily

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Updated: June 14, 2021

Originally Published: June 11, 2021

Trigger warning: child loss

October 23, 2007, marked the day our lives turned into a blur, when our family faced an unimaginable tragedy. It was late afternoon, and I was at work. My husband and I were both employed at the same company and shared an office building. I recall the executive assistant rushing out to find me, urgently stating that I had to go home due to an emergency.

At first, I didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. We jumped in the car, and my husband drove us home in a frenzy. Although we lived just three miles from our office, the journey felt like an eternity. All we could do was pray that our daughter would be okay. The only information we had was that she had been injured.

As we turned onto our street, the scene that greeted us was straight out of a movie — police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances, one of which was pulling away as we arrived. I’ll never forget leaping out of our moving vehicle to chase after the ambulance carrying my daughter. They stopped for me but refused to let me join them; they left me behind. Inside, we found our babysitter, a family member, and our four-year-old son in hysterics.

When our sitter went to wake Madison from her nap, she discovered her trapped beneath a dresser. We can only speculate that Madison was reaching for her juice cup, which was on top. Our sitter hurriedly lifted the dresser off her, and although her face had turned blue, it regained color almost immediately, sparking a glimmer of hope. She performed CPR while calling 911, an experience that changed her life forever.

As my husband and I entered the house, we started to comprehend the severity of what had happened. The police were questioning us about Madison: what was her age, what was her full name… I lost my composure. Unaware of my daughter’s death, I retorted, “What do you mean what was her name? Her name is Madison Smith!”

We were taken to the hospital in the back of a police car, feeling like criminals. During the ride, we called friends we believed were closer to God, pleading for our daughter’s life. Upon arrival at the hospital, we sensed the grim reality. Medical staff lined the corridor as we were escorted to a small room near the ER. A few close friends had arrived just before us, so we weren’t entirely alone. It wasn’t long before the emergency room doctor approached us. She knelt beside us and clearly stated, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, your daughter has died. We did everything we could for her. We’re preparing her now for you to see her. We will come get you when she’s ready.”

It felt like a blur—how could this happen to us? We were good parents, good people… tragedies like this don’t befall good parents, right? Wrong.

Until that moment, I had only seen one deceased person in my life, and now I was holding my lifeless daughter. I didn’t want to let her go. She looked uninjured; the trauma that led to her death was invisible. We were told she had died instantly, without suffering, but our suffering was just beginning.

I was shocked by how quickly my husband and I were separated and questioned by different detectives while still in the emergency room. I now understand this is standard protocol, but at that moment, it felt unbearable. Meanwhile, detectives were at our home, testing the dresser to determine if it could indeed cause a child’s death. They were trying to figure out how no one could have heard it fall from downstairs. (For the record, Madison absorbed the dresser’s force, which is why no one heard it fall — that’s logical!)

Virginia Beach police and Child Protective Services conducted an intense investigation. I wouldn’t want their jobs and appreciate their service, but none of that made the process any easier. When we got home that evening, the hardest task was telling our then eleven-year-old and four-year-old sons that their baby sister had died. She was now in Heaven. The following months would be challenging as we helped them navigate their grief journey while grappling with our own.

Within an hour of returning home, we received a call from LifeNet Health, requesting Madison’s organs for donation. We immediately agreed. It never crossed our minds to say no. If we could help save another life, we would. We take pride in knowing that Madison’s heart valves were donated to two different children. The miracle of organ donation has been a crucial part of our healing.

Madison Smith was only two years old when she lost her life in a preventable accident. We realized that we couldn’t sit idly by. If we were unaware of the dangers associated with furniture tipping over, surely others were too. We contacted a furniture strap manufacturer who sells us straps at cost; we distribute them whenever possible. We created a website, Maddie’s Message, to share our story and promote furniture safety. We often perform random acts of kindness in her honor to extend our story beyond our immediate circle. I frequently remind others, “Please strap your furniture — don’t wish you had!”

Yet, it feels like it’s not enough. Even after distributing thousands of furniture straps and watching numerous news stories, the statistics haven’t improved. The number of children dying from tip-over accidents today is just as alarming as when my daughter died. I look forward to the day when this rate declines. The only viable solution to prevent these tragedies is to continue advocating for better safety standards and education.

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Summary:

On October 23, 2007, Laura Smith’s two-year-old daughter, Madison, died in a tragic, preventable accident involving a dresser. The family faced an arduous journey of grief and investigation while advocating for furniture safety to prevent similar tragedies. Laura emphasizes the importance of awareness and education around furniture tip-over dangers, sharing their story through their website, Maddie’s Message, and engaging in acts of kindness in Madison’s honor.

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