MommyWeighLess

It's tax season again, and I sat down tonight and began working on my taxes. As I was working through the dependents questions, one hit me right in the heart. The question asks if you had a child die the year before. You don't give that question much thought if you have never been to a child's funeral. That question made me stop and think about how fortunate I am to select no. And how not all of us are quite so lucky. The guilt that ate as me, when I selected no, knowing that a year ago my sister had to select yes. It has been almost a year since Nora was arrested for the 1st Degree murder of my nephew John. If you know us, you know all too well what happened to our baby. If not, you can scan back through several of my other blogs and get a pretty good representation of the nightmare our family has been living in. Photo Courtesy - MichelleRusell.com It's hard to not think about Nora. I have a very vivid imagination, and when I see her face in mugshots I pictur

Every time I have started working on the one year anniversary blog about John's death I back space it away. I just can't put into words what it is I would like to say. So I've decided to just let it all flow freely, and whatever comes out this time, stays...please forgive my rambling... I miss him. So much. You know the saying "you miss them so much it hurts". It's true. I miss him so much it hurts. It has hurt since September 5th 2016. It hurts just as much now as it did then. I know people say time heals, and it will get easier, but it doesn't. I move along in my life, yes, but I find myself stuck in a cold PICU room often. I can literally walk myself down the hall at Monroe Regional in my mind. My dad standing there in the corner of the hospital all alone. My mom puffy eyed from crying, coming out of the double doors. John being pushed through on a gurney to his helicopter flight. So many wires. So many devices being used to keep his frail and broke

I broke my bracelet tonight, and sat in my front yard and cried as I looked relentlessly for all the little, tiny pieces. That little blue beaded bracelet broke my heart when it broke and flew across the yard. That little blue bracelet brought on a wave of heartache that I have buttoned up for the past couple of months. We continue to put on our brave faces. Tell everyone that we are doing okay, that we are getting by. And in all reality we are.  The world continues to spin.  Life continues to move us right along. After what seemed to be an unusually rough week, this just defeated me emotionally. When that bracelet broke I was painfully reminded of why I wear it everyday. Angela made that little blue bracelet for me shortly after John was killed. She made each of us one. It's made of beads that are layered to resemble angels. For our little angel. This happened at ten in the evening in the darkest part of the yard. As I was frantically searching the grass with my cell ph

***Disclaimer- There is some not so friendly language and thoughts here. FYI. I have one to share today that has been rattling around in my over productive brain for a few weeks now, basically since we attended Nora's bond hearing back in March. We thought we were prepared for that day, and once again, we were proven wrong. I keep waiting for this to get easier, as people love to remind us. I keep waiting for time to heal us, when time just keeps passing us by... I thought that the hardest thing about that day was having to look at the woman that is accused of murdering my nephew . To see the actual hands that threw his little body across the room moments before his life ended. To see the hands of the monster that could have sat him in a play pen, and dialed any one of our telephone numbers, but instead tossed John to his death. But those hands were cuffed, and as much comfort as I could get from that, I was disgusted by another sight. The sight of the woman sitting behind

I have a little white polka dot keepsake box. I found it at Beall's Outlet , and it only cost $3.99. It was a great bargain, and it is absolutely adorable. Yet, it is a confusing little polka dot box. Full of some of the most cherished, loved, prized memories...and full of some of the most indescribably painful, horrible, unforgettable pain. It's a cute white box with gold polka dots on the outside, and a light pink interior. It has a gold bow on the front. It makes a beautiful dust collector that now resides on top of my dresser, taking precedence over makeup and hair accessories. It sat there empty for a few days before I decided to use it for the purpose in which I bought it; to store some of my most precious keepsakes. Inside are the few items that I get to hold in place of my nephew. The few physical possessions that remind me that he really did exist. That he was more than just a victim. That he was a little pain in the rear while incubating. That he spent the first n

So much can be seen in those little eyes. I want to start this with a small disclaimer. I do not share this to open up a debate about religion or anyone else's beliefs. This is my personal opinion, and my personal experience. I don't need anyone trying to convince me of anything different, or what is right or wrong. I'm also not trying to disprove or prove anything...just know to keep an open mind as you read. One thing we've heard over and over and over since John passed, is that "God has a plan." Okay. If you are religious, or believe in God, I'm genuinely happy for you. But if you don't, hearing that over and over is like being told that in a world full of awful evil people, He wanted an innocent child. That is how that sounds to people like myself. Like God is a murderer. He predestined John to be killed by his babysitter. I used to believe in God when I was child. But as I grew up, I learned that science has disproved many things concern