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LIfe on Pills

When my life turned upside down that horrific night of December 7, 2008, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I did good to choke down one What-A-Burger chicken strip, that's how bad it was. I drank coffee and soda so I had something in my system. I had to function somehow, yep caffeine could be the trick. I lost 20 pounds in a few short weeks.


It had probably been about three days at the hospital with Andrew when our social worker looked at me and said "How much have you slept?" I replied with "maybe a couple hours" as I burst into tears. A couple of hours was not an exaggeration. How could I sleep? I had nightmares every time I closed my eyes. I could see and hear everything - the blood, the headlights, the car, the sirens, the helicopter, my kids crying for me, my screams, metal on metal, crash, my lifeless child. Everything! How could I possibly sleep. It was so much better to be awake. At least that way I could "control" something.


He told me to call my doctor and ask for something to help me - "at least for now". I took his advice. I called my doctor's office and had to tell a unexpected nurse the news about my little man, only to hear her gasp on the other end and not have any idea what to say to me. I told her "I need help to sleep". She proceeded to say "I'll have the doctor call you." I was given a drug that now I can't remember, but it didn't work. The first night home to see Danielle while Andrew was in the hospital, I had to have my mom sleep with me - the first time in 30 years I needed that. I couldn't be by myself because of the nightmares.


After the funeral and family going back home, things settled down at my house and I fell into a "depression." That's normal, right? I mean I just lost one of my precious children. A piece of my heart, my soul. I remember feeling lonely, guilty, not wanting to live. I wanted my my sweet boy back with me. I walked around like a zombie.

When I finally went to the doctor I was put on anti-depressants and anxiety pill. Obviously, we all know what the anti-depressants were for, the anxiety pill was to help me get back behind the wheel of a car and to sleep, without the nightmares.


Flash forward to now - 22 months later, and I have now decided that I am going to attempt to go off the anti-depressants. I am tired of taking a pill everyday. I am hoping I can do this. I can feel a side effect. Haziness, light headed, airy, anger, stand off(ish) to a point. Those that know me well have already noticed (and you know who you are) and it's only been a few days.

I have prayed to God that he will help me through this next "battle" I face. This is the first step. The anxiety pill will be down the road. I am not sure when that battle will be. I am afraid of the nightmares. My "daydreams" are enough to haunt me.

Will I ever be normal. The normal I was 22 months ago, never. The "new" normal is me now, but it sucks having a new normal. It sucks - big time.

18 Months

Brett has been on my mind a lot lately. This time of year is really rough for me. Everything that has to do with the beginning of school seems to be a trigger. I hate that Brett can't be here to start first grade. It's been a while since I have had "those" pains. The pains where you feel like a sharp knife has stabbed and you feel like your heart is going to be pulled out with it. Yeah, those pains.

And then the anger comes back. I am angry with God for taking my sweet boy from me, I am angry that I made that frickin' left turn, I am angry that the doctors couldn't save him.

I HATE the phrase "Everything happens for a reason". Can someone please explain to me what the reason was for my son to be taken from me? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I didn't start writing this post with the intention of all this rage coming out, but I guess that's the way it is. It's been 18 long months. And while I will say I have had some really good days, the bad seems to outweigh the good. August through December are crappy months for me. School starting, holidays, anniversary, etc. I dread these months. Maybe this time around they will be better? Only time will tell.

I wanted to share with you a picture that I received today of Brett. This was taken in January 2008 at Brett and Andrew's friend's birthday party. While I at the time probably cringed at the site of Brett's face (since I have issues with messy hands and faces), I am not cringing now. What a beautiful child I had. What a beautiful angel he must be. I love you baby. Mommy always thinks of you and will forever love you.





I was going through a picture album on my e-mail the other day and ran across this video of Brett. I remember this like it was yesterday. Brett was 2.5 and we were at my mom's best friends house sometime during the summer of 2006. Brett was very excited that he could name all of his colors.

Usually when a parent records their child doing something "special" they do it because they want to show their child the video when they grow up. This is why I did it.

Not one parent out there ever records their child because they think something will happen to their child, they think that something will happen to them. You see, life is suppose to go like this. Mom and Dad go to heaven first and then the children, years later. But not my life. And not Brett's life. I now find myself watching this video because I can hear Brett. I see excitement on his face. I see his beautiful smile. I see that he knew he was loved. I see that he knew how proud we were of him. And the best part, I see it all through his movement, not from a still picture.

video

I encourage you all to bring out your video camera and capture those precious moments of your children so you do get to watch them when your child is an adult and watch them through tears of joy.

I have been meaning to write in my blog, but every time I think about it, I am too tired to get off the couch to do it. But I am sitting at my computer this morning and thinking now is the perfect time to do it.

It's been a few months, the last I wrote was after the anniversary of Brett's passing. I made it through Christmas, but it was extremely hard. Christmas Eve in particular. Chris and I sat on the couch after the kids went to bed and finished watching the classic "Home Alone" movie. Chris feel asleep on my lap about half way through and I didn't have the heart to wake him, after all I had to wait anyways to wait for Jolly Ole St. Nick to make his debut. I woke Chris after the movie ended to get ready to do our parental duties and I couldn't manage to get up off the couch. I completely lost it. I cried. And I cried hard. There was nothing for Brett, because Brett wasn't with us. It was gut wrenching. I had "those" pains, something I hadn't felt since they told me he had passed and after his funeral.

To think about it today, I am glad I had my breakdown that evening. Something I didn't have to have in front of Danielle and Andrew. They were able to enjoy Christmas without having to worry about their mom and how I was feeling - something they do often. Just a few weeks ago, we were all sitting at the dinner table together (something that doesn't happen often since Chris travels 80% of the time), Danielle innocently asked at the dinner table where Brett was going to sit when he comes home and my emotions got the best of me. Just when I think I have it all together and BAM it hits me like a rock! Brett is gone and he's not coming home. Danielle asked me why I was sad and said "You miss Brett Mommy?" I replied with a soft "yes". A couple hours later we were sitting on the couch and she lightly touched my face and said "Mommy you will be happy when Brett comes home." Whose the mommy here? I explained that Brett was in heaven and that he wouldn't be coming home and one day WE would go to Brett's home with God.

As I write this I realize that Brett is home, but not MY home where I want him to be. He's not coming home to my house, his life that he was suppose to have. I wish my faith was stronger and that I could understand. I guess all in due time.

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