Tag Archives: death

Quiet thoughts….

It is night again. The house is quiet, the children and husband are sleeping, the gliders are playing. I think about sleep and my mother. She’s been died for some months now. I thought I would never come to terms with not having her in my life, bossy, opinionated, and down right mean some days. I miss her.

I miss her smell and the way she hugged me when I came home to visit or felt sad. She had a way of pushing her love and comfort to where ever and when ever I was. Her love was total, unconditional, smothering, safe, and protective. Before she died, we had several conversations about how she saw her life now as a grandmother and wife of almost 38 years. She told me she felt if she could keep us all in her little bubble that she would be ok. She told me to make sure I get a life outside of the kids and my husband. She said that one day my kids will grow up, move away, and have families of their own. She wanted me to understand that I needed something besides them to live for. Then, she sobbed I miss my momma. Now, I know the pain in her tears that day that longed for her mother’s smell, hugs, and wisdom. I pray that when she closed her eyes for the last time here, she opened her new eyes to her mother smiling with open arms embracing her after a long absence.


Today is my son’s 2nd birthday. He was born by Emergency C section after I crashed my car into a center median on the interstate on my way to a dr appt.

That is a whole book in itself. So many twists and turns, characters, anger, regret, medicines, no meds, no sleep, little sleep, homicidal thoughts about my husband laying next to me snoring¬†when I haven’t fully slept in weeks, sleeping pills, Benadryl, melatonin, Tydonal, mixture to passout for at least 4 hours straight. It was hellish being pregnant. My son was lucky to be carried so long. The torcher of being under medicated was painful. I fought demons in my sleep and waking hours. The only thought I had was getting him OUT! I made 8 months the day I went to the dr and wrecked. My husband was happy. Again, I was angry that my body was being assaulted daily by a little person I wasn’t sure I wanted. I can say I wanted him, but I did not want to do the work of carrying him. He was born 2 months early and I felt an unimaginable guilt for wanting him out of me. The universe (God) heard me. He lived after all of that.

The story about the accident has more players and situations that could be discussed. We just made it home from my parents’ house celebrating his 2nd birthday. It was a good visit. No cops, threats, crying, massive anxiety, just dinner, conversation, and cake.

Husband is in bed, waiting for me to GO TO SLEEP! So, I must take my new cocktail of sleepy meds…Seroquel included. It is the most wonderful medicine I’ve ever taken. I sleep all if not most of the night (some late night snacking), but for the most part rest, quiet mind, sleep.

The PTSD part of me still has horrible dreams. Lately, I’ve had several sex dreams. I guess it is my body wishing. I am now up to 320 with the meds, surgeries, steroids for healing, and massive depressive eating. I am no longer sexually appealing to anyone, especially my husband.

So, I sleep virtually alone with my son in the middle offering comfort in his own little way. Thank God for sons.