Thursday, November 3, 2011

My brain is in my fingers

I have to type to think.  I am trying to process so much right now.

At the forefront tonight is my sweet Ian.  5 years ago right now I was climbing into an ambulance, transferring from Trinity Medical Center to Children's Medical Center in Dallas.

I want my baby back.  I want my life back.  It seems like everything is divided into two time-frames.  BID and AID  Before Ian Died and After Ian Died.  It is the first thing that crosses my mind when I see a picture of my children, or me.  BID: smiles, innocence, laughter, bliss. AID: forced grins, hollow eyes, pain, struggle.

BID I thought I was a great wife.  I was in my 10th year of marriage, mentoring other women, teaching classes and starting a family ministry.  BID I was an attentive mom, listening to tales from first grade, taking my daughter on mommy dates, coordinating her clothes, fixing her hair.  BID I was a successful business woman, planning weddings and events, a chamber member, networking and marketing.  BID I was a terrible housekeeper (some things even death can't change!)

AID my 15-year marriage is average, and sometimes not even that.  I boxed up most of my marriage books and have even considered throwing them at my husband occasionally.  The only mentoring I've done is telling other women that they will survive the death of their child.  Important, but not what I signed up for in life.  AID I am struggling as a mom.  I often don't care to hear the stories of fifth-grade girl drama or seventh-grade school-yard fights.  I "failed" as a homeschool mom (venting here, I know that's not entirely true, but it's my pity-party and I'll cry if I want to).  I take my three year old to McDonald's so he won't drive me crazy at home.  My daughter is lucky if she has clothes that are clean to wear to school, much less coordinated and cute.  AID I closed my business.  I didn't do anything for a while, then I did art, now I do candles.  The last thing that I want to be known as is flaky, but I feel that way a lot.  AID I'm still a terrible housekeeper, but now I've got extra guilt that when Ian died CPS thought I was neglecting my other kids before and took them away - I promised that the house would never be like this again, and it is.

I don't want to live in the AID world, yet I can never regain the BID world.  I feel trapped.  Much of the time I can go along with the flow, even feel normal.  I meet people, connect, sell candles, nurse the baby, pick up kids from school, go to church... Then there are just those days that hit me out of the clear blue.  I look in the mirror and see through the facade.  I see the pain, the struggle.  I see the AID and want desperately to see the BID.  I died that day too.  I don't even know who this person is some days.


Don't stop - there's lots more good stuff...

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