Tag: Why?

I’ve always been a night owl.  For some reason I was always more productive after 9 PM, usually in bed by midnight.  Now I see 2 AM most nights. I’m exhausted and would love to shut my eyes and my brain, but I can’t.

I read endless books, troll the internet or just lay there.  I wish I could be one of those people that sleep through their grief, just lie there and soak it all up.  It would be a much needed break from this new reality.  I just want to close my eyes, close it all out and enjoy the blackness and the silence.

Instead I get out of bed and check on Darcy.  I need to just be sure of her, see the rise and fall of her chest, surround myself in her. I need to know that she’s OK and that she’s still mine.  I will never trust in her future, or any of ours.  It changes too quickly.

I write to no one, which helps.  I still can’t seem to make sense out of this.  I’m hoping that by writing I’m able to release some of the madness that has taken up residence in my psyche.

The irony is that Benny slept through the night at 6 weeks old.  Here I am still awake, exhausted, without my baby.

“I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep, standing on the edge of something much to deep.  It’s funny how we feel so much, but cannot say a word, we’re screaming inside but can’t be heard.”.  Sarah McLachlan

I cannot begin to fathom how we have survived without Benny for 3 months now.  It isn’t easy and usually it sucks.  It’s hard looking at this picture everyday and missing that beautiful smile.  It’s hard not seeing him at Darcy’s side.  I miss their laughter as they would tear through the house together.

I don’t sleep at night.  I try really hard and even when I’m tired I just don’t sleep.  I read, watch TV, but mostly I just lay there and think.  Not about anything specific, I just can’t shut my brain down and relax.  I think it’s so that I don’t have to think about that day, my coping mechanism.

I miss the sound of the waves over the monitor and always having to be quiet at night so as not wake him up.  I miss how much noise he would make rolling around in that crib at night and I would hold my breath hoping that he wouldn’t wake up.  It was like listening to a pin ball machine.  What I wouldn’t give to just hold him in my arms one more night in the rocking chair.

I never expected a boy, never even entertained the idea that I would have a son.  What was I going to do with a boy?  When Benny was born, Parker cried.  He didn’t cry when Darcy was born, then I got it.  That was what I was going to do with a boy, make a man.

He was so different from Darcy.  He was so rough, so crazy, so confident in everything he did.  He was all boy.  He challenged me as a parent in many different ways than Darcy did, instead of the theatrics, I was constantyly chasing him, pulling him off of things.  Benny was exhausting to parent, but I always had a smile on my face because he was so funny and engaging.

I got it.  I understood how Darcy wound Parker around her finger.  Benny had me, I was lost.  It was hard to get angry at that smile or not loose yourself in those dimples.  I found myself letting him get away with things that Darcy never would have.  He was my baby and my boy.  I hate that I’ve lost that.  I don’t understand why I didn’t get to keep him.  Why him?  Why us?

He loosened me up as a parent, taught me to pick my battles.  He was so interested in figuring things out.  He was climbing up and sliding on his own at a little over a year.  He taught me to trust in him, to allow him to explore his world.  I’m so proud of who he was and how he changed me as a parent and a person.  I love you forever my little man.  XOXO

Sunday became a major milestone for me.  For the first time since the accident, I stepped foot into Bennett’s room.  We’re going away and some friends and family are going to finish Benny’s closet.  I’m excited, don’t get me wrong.  For the first time I just realized it’s a change.  It’s an inevitable step in moving forward that needs to happen.

I just got out of the shower and it hit me that his room would change slightly.  That people would be in there.  Maybe his smell would disappear or something would be moved, even if ever so slightly.  I started to think about what Benny would want.  He was so happy and so brave, those are the best words to describe him.  Nothing scared him or held him back.  It was time for me to be the same.  Maybe not happy, but brave.

I cannot describe what it was like.  I don’t know what I expected.  He was gone and as hard as it was being in his room, his space, it didn’t make it any more final like I guess I expected it would.  His pajamas that he had worn the night before it happened were draped over the crib, his little shoes were sitting expectantly on the changing table.  It was heartbreaking.  To be among his stuff and know that he will never wear those shoes, or play with his toys.  To turn on the cat piano and listen to the ridiculous songs that he loved and know that he will never enjoy them again.  There’s a whole world of Bennett contained in that one little room.

There’s still dirty laundry.  Pacifiers keep showing up behind the crib, in the rocking chair.  Benny is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  I think Darcy said it best when she said he was invisible.  His smell is gone, which kills me.  You don’t lose a person all at once, but in pieces over time.  I’m not ready for this.