The Unreality of it All

I was driving somewhere today and thinking about how disconnected I felt from Benny.  I was wondering if the accident really happened, if he was really real.  From time to time it’s hard for me to grasp the reality of it all.  I was feeling empty.

Did he really die?  Did we really survive that?  Did I actually carry and give birth to 4 children?  There are just times that I cannot wrap my head around it all.

Then I figure it’s just my mind’s way of protecting itself.  I was giving myself a break from the pain of it all.  Let’s face it, the holidays suck as a parent if you’ve lost a child.  I was enjoying a few moments of ‘unreality’.

Then of course I feel guilty for even having these thoughts.  Has my life become so busy that I’m not taking the time to stop and really tune into my dead son?  What kind of mother am I?

Fast forward to this evening and I’m relaxing on the couch watching Scrubs with Parks.  It’s probably the last show that I would expect to get to me, but it did tonight.  Now that I think about it, there are several episodes that deal with death and grief and the different way the characters handle it.  Sometimes serious, sometimes not.  Maybe that’s why I love this show.

Tonight the main characters that are doctors were dealing with a patient that was afraid of dying.  They talked about how they hoped that their last thought would be a happy one.  The episode closes with “maybe in the end all you can really hope for is your last thought is good, even if it is just about the taste of an ice cold beer”

Wow.  Just wow.  This brought me back from my ‘unreality’ super quick.  It was the punch in the guts that made me feel raw all over again, even these 4 years later.  Now I’m sitting here wondering how I could have ever felt any type of disconnect from Benny’s death.

I’m also wondering what his last thoughts were.  Was he scared?  Was he still groggy having just woken up?  Was he confused by my frustration at him being awake?

Or can I really just hope that death is like they say in the movies?  That your life flashes before your eyes and it’s like watching a movie.  His movie would have been short, but my God it would have been wonderful.  He made so many people so very happy and he was so very loved.  Maybe that’s all that I can hope for then.  That those last 7 seconds were happy thoughts.

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The Last Time

It’s 12:30 AM.  I haven’t slept a wink yet.  I have to get 3 small children out the door and off to different places tomorrow morning before I head into work.  Then I have to get as much work done as possible because said children will all be home with me next week.  Oh, and it’s going to snow tomorrow, so it’s early pick up for school.

This seems to be my story as of late.  My little perfect sleeping angel hit the 4 month sleep regression.  Now I get to see her at least 2 times before I actually get in bed, usually 10 minutes after I close my eyes and then 2-3 more times in the next 5 or so hours before I have to be up for the day.

I have pretty much kicked Parker out of bed so that Perry has her own space.  I’m all paranoid about her falling out of bed or Parker rolling over on her, so now she has half of a queen sized bed. Little turkey.  She doesn’t know how good she has it.

And as much as I complain (oh how I complain) and as grumpy as this lack of sleep makes me (super grumpy, just ask anyone in my family), I just keep reminding myself, ‘enjoy this, it won’t last forever.’

She won’t always be this little.  She is my last and I need to enjoy every stinking moment of this.  I need to soak it all in.  She won’t be little forever.  She won’t always need me.  There are no guarantees.  Just breathe.

I remember sitting in the dark nursing Darcy for hours.  This was before the Advent of cell phones (good, now I’m truly dating myself).  I would get so frustrated.  She took so long and I had no idea what I was doing.  It was hard and lonely.

Sleep deprivation is real.  I understand why it’s used for torture.  I am exhausted.  I am barely functioning.  Good luck to anyone that has crossed my path these last two weeks.  Clear rational thoughts have left my head.  My crazy is showing.

I miss my husband.  It’s weird that he’s sleeping down the hall.  It’s lonely waking up without his body next to mine.

This too shall pass.  All of it and it will be something else.  But I won’t get this back.  I won’t have this little chubby snoring angel.  Everyday she is growing and changing.  Everyday she is getting older.

She’s our last baby.  I wish she would stay little.  But then that seems selfish because I also am excited for her to grow and experience life.  I just can’t fathom not having a baby.  I can’t imagine my baby growing up.  I’m not looking forward to my ‘lasts.’

The last time that I pick her up, or the last time that she cuddles on my lap.  The last time that she needs me to feed her or the last time that she takes up half of a queen sized bed.

Life is fleeting, there are no promises.  So even though I’m not in love with this sleep deprived state, it will end.  She will change.  And it sounds crazy, but I will probably even miss this a tiny bit.