MommyWeighLess

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 ...

***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...

I have started this blog about ten different times. I know what I want to say, I just can't unscramble my thoughts enough to put them down coherently for everyone else to understand. As you all know, my nephew John died from a traumatic head injury he sustained while in the care of a babysitter, Nora Boles. By now most of you know the manner in which he received those injuries. If not, I will go into that shortly. A lot of people have asked us over and over how could we be so patient, when this happened months ago? We went to see John on Valentine's Day...I think he wanted in on the picture! Trust me, we are well aware of when John passed, and how quickly it went by. It seems like it took a long while, but to us, its been an awful blink of very over-cried and tired eyes. And all the same it feels like it has been an eternity since we got our very last cuddle with John. It has been 163 excruciating days. I could tell you to the minute how long since his little heart pe...

I have a tough time trying to decide what to share, and what not to share with the world about our loss. So many moments are so intimate or so painful, that writing them is hard, let alone sharing them with a very critical world. My family is very supportive with my blog, and allow me to share. They don't censor, they just leave it up to me. I share because I want the world to know about our baby, I want them to know just how loved he is. He never leaves our minds, and will most definitely always been in our hearts. I want nothing more than to hold that baby. Scoop him up and shower his fat little face with kisses. I dream about John often. I love it when I get to hold him in my dreams. Usually it is the same dream, where I meet him on the dock somewhere, but he is an adult, or he is a baby playing on the beach. I miss him so much it really does hurt. When you wake up and you remember again, and then you try to recall holding him. Fight to pull up a memory of his sweet s...

I'm going to share something with you today, in hopes that it will help some people understand just why my grief over losing John has been so profound. I also want to commemorate another sweet little person we lost this year. This year has been tough, and we have lost so many precious lives... Dustin has a friend, Amber, that I have never met. I've never shook her hand, or hugged her in person, but I love Amber just as much as one of my sisters.  The very first time I spoke with Amber was after she and her husband had suffered a terrible and heartbreaking miscarriage. I didn't know her, but after Dustin's mother told me that Amber had lost both of her twins, fairly late into her pregnancy, I was compelled to reach out to her. I was worried she would think I was a lunatic, someone she didn't even know was reaching out to her during one of her most private and difficult times. But she was sweet, and kind even though she was heartbroken. I offered whatever wor...