Thursday, March 14, 2013


The day has been up. Diapers washed, dinner in the slow cooker, meals and necessary shopping trip planned, outside playing with the bigs while A naps before we head off to the store.

Big red truck drives by, moving too fast, driver obviously distracted. Trigger.

Flashback. Pain searing through my guts. Nausea. Dizzy. Feeling faint.

And like that my day is over. Back to bed. People don't seem to get what this means for everyday, what it takes for me to just get up out of bed every day.

I don't have a high functioning autopilot.


  1. I burst into tears every time a driver comes through our lot too fast... and he's not my son, and I'm not his mother, and *I* am still being triggered. I wish that I was meant that you were a little less, but it ain't so.

    So instead... I gotta figure out how to wear boots into the Texas heat, because sandals don't make quite the right thump when I kick their bumpers...

  2. You know, I think I think about you and Bram on a near daily basis. I think those thoughts of Bram actually helped save 2 little lives last week. I was backing out of my driveway in a pretty bust subdivision. I always back out consciously but this day was different. Our neighbours share a driveway opening with us and their driveway was full of visiting family vehicles. As I backed down my driveway, I could see two mamas a bit further back pushing their babies in strollers. What I couldn't see was their 2 older kids (approx 3-4 years old) about 20-30 ft or so in front of them. The kids were perfectly hidden by the large vans in the other driveway as I made my out of mine. As I slowly nudged inch by inch, still unaware of their presence, I had to quickly hit the brakes. They zipped right out behind my vehicle without a worry in the world. Their mothers were too far away to see me and too far away to stop them. My heart was in my throat and I took a few moments of time to gather myself before finally hitting the road. The mothers were both apologetic but all I could think about was sweet Bram. If I was going a little faster, if I was a little distracted, if a million little things were different, this could have been tragic.

    Later that day, when I returned home, I told my husband what had happened. He actually saw it happening from inside our house but could not react quickly enough to stop it from happening. My 7 year old overheard our conversation and said, "You're thinking about that little boy that died, aren't you?" He was talking about Bram. We'd talked about Bram before and why Mommy is so worried about him in parking lots.

    Bram's life has made a big difference in our lives. I just thought you'd like to know.


Thanks for reading and loving Bram!