I want to share my faith with you. I have really struggled over the past 2 1/2 years in trying to figure out my faith. I have since realized that faith is not something in my head, but in my heart. Therefore I don’t have to understand it. I just have to feel it. When Cameron died, I felt abandoned by God. I couldn’t believe that He would do that to me. I had tried so hard to be good, to have the right type of relationship with God/ my family/ my community. And yet the unthinkable had happened– to me! The only emotion I could really muster toward God was anger.

Do you know the song, “I Can Only Imagine”? It is a praise song about making it to Heaven and how great it will be to see God. It asks the question “Will I dance for you Jesus? Or in awe of you be still? Will I stand in your presence? Or to my knees will I fall? Will I sing Hallelujah? Will I be able to speak at all?” It is an awesome song. I would hear it and just be mad. All I wanted to do was question God. And I didn’t want to think that the moment I died, my anger would be gone and I was just be in awe of God. I owned my anger. How could I be expected to give it up?

I went to church regularly. I cried, feeling as if I was in a separate place from the other worshipers there. Our associate pastor would say “God is Good.” The congregation would reply “All the time.” Jaimie would say “All the time…” and the response was “God is Good.” I’ll be honest, I couldn’t say if for the longest time. If God is good, how could He do this to me? What an emotional and spiritual struggle I was experiencing!

But I never gave up hope, the hope that one day I would be reunited. Reunited with Cameron. Reunited with my faith. Reunited with the person I once was– the Christian believer who knew without a shadow of a doubt that God is good. All the time.” God surrounded me with Christian friends and family. I know this to be true. Everywhere I went, there were loving and faithful followers around me. And they believed in me. They understood my questioning because they forced themselves to consider my predicament. And they couldn’t blame me for feeling the way I did. They were loved ones, parents themselves. Thankful for their own children’s safety. Praying for God to protect their families. And for God to heal my heart.

And gradually, without any fanfare, the presence God began to come back to me. I regained my sense of salvation, God being back in my heart. My feet were planted back on the ground. And I realized, as the poem Footsteps relates, that God hadn’t abandoned me. He had, in fact, carried me. Even when I didn’t feel Him with me, He was there supporting me more than ever.

The fact that I am witnessing right now is no less than a small miracle. I say this because I am still here. I am still here on this earth, living this Christian life, making a small difference in the lives of others every day. I did this before, but now I do it despite my loss and my pain. It is so much harder to believe in the grace and goodness of God when you have been through absolute devastation. I have, and I still do. I promise you, I loved my Cameron as much if not more that any mother has ever loved her child. I adored her in a way that is beyond explanation. I lost her. And I have survived anyway. That is my miracle. Thanks be to God.

I have been trying to figure out why I am so tired.  I could sleep away the day if I had the chance, only to wake up tired again.  My brain works overtime at its job of protecting me from myself.  It is exhausting.  I realize that I constantly think around Cameron.  I grieve peripherally.  I have never had the will to submerge myself in thoughts of grief, reminders of Cameron, or simple memories.  I avoid!  I think there is a part of me that is ready to delve.  But the rest of me pushes that part of me away– far down into the depths of my soul.  And the energy required to keep it there is getting greater– harder to maintain.

Sometimes I can’t decide what I want to eat.  This is not a new problem for me or anyone.  But I want something good, something satisfying.  I can’t think of anything that will taste good enough to make me feel the way I want to feel.  There is no food, no drug, no event, no book, no words of encouragement.  There is nothing that satisfies my soul, nothing that satisfies this empty hunger inside of me.

Blah, blah, blah.  I get bored with myself and my thoughts.  I know they seem so depressing and repetitive.  I just don’t know how to change the cycle.  I am too afraid to look inside.  I circle around this shell of myself that walks around pretending to be me.  I miss me.  I miss the absence of the emptiness inside.  I am not whole.  I don’t know if I can be without her, knowing that I’ve lost her.  My precious, wonderful, angel of a girl, who left too soon!

It has been awhile since I have posted anything new on the site. I have these almost daily conversations in my head of things I’d like to say on the message board. But when I sit down to write, or sometimes just think about doing so, I feel a wave of angst come over me. Not to worry, these waves of angst are so commonplace in my life that it really isn’t odd that I would feel them when it comes to CABC’s website. I just hope that by posting here today, I’ll feel a little temporary relief from the waves.

One thing that I have tried so hard to do over the last 2 years since Cameron has died is to not fall apart. I think its okay to lose it every once in awhile, but I mean completely fall apart. I mean, I’ve got my girls to raise and I can’t exactly be a good mom if I am a total basket case! So I live my life, I try to maintain myself on a day to day basis. But every once in awhile, if I am too still, or too tired, or too happy, I will feel a jolt. A sudden re-realization that I am the mother of a beautiful, AMAZING, daughter who was ripped from my life in a horrible and inexplicable way. Then I acknowledge the thought and put it away. I’m sure there are many people on this earth who live the same way. There is something so huge and significant that has happened to them that it defines much of who they are and how they see the world. Yet to have to really feel and experience the reality of that truth is not exactly compatible with life. Energy within these people (us) is spent all day long just working on a way to make this reality bearable.

And yet you’ll see me smile and say “Hello, I’m doing fine.” You’ll see me at the park with my kids, or in line at the store, or at work day in and out. And you will not know when you see me. You will not be able to read my book by its cover. Life is easy, until it is hard. It is bearable, until the unbearable happens. It goes on each day, and then it ends abruptly.

I was reading an article recently about teenagers and resilience. It was defined as the ability to handle difficult situations without falling apart. I never wanted to find out whether or not I am resilient. I was just fine before and felt alright about myself and the life I was living. But I found out anyway that, at least up until now, I am capable of being very resilient. I just don’t know what tomorrow holds. But truth be told, if I can handle this, I can probably survive anything.

I still struggle everyday with questions to which their are no good answers. I don’t know that I would really want someone to explain to me why Cameron died. I mean an explanation that was really THE answer, and then I would just know why it happened. I’m sure that would not make me feel any better here on earth without her. I am human and my heart cannot accept this pain as rational or explicable on any level. So don’t worry about needing to have the right words to say to me. Just be by my side, you can’t fix my problems.

So what is important? Love, appreciation, being the best you can. Trying to make a difference in a positive way on some small scale everyday. Can we change the world? I don’t know. I often like to ignore things like the 6 o’clock news because of all the horrible things in this world that are reported to us so matter-of-factly every night on T.V. My favorite prayer is the serenity prayer because it reminds me that there are some things I can control and somethings I can’t. And the prayer is that God will not only help me to see the difference, but then to do something to affect the things I can affect in a positive way. So that is what I try to do. I admit I am not always good at the effort or the end result. Believe me I am not perfect!! But I am still here, and until I am gone, I will strive to live better. I will strive to touch lives in some small, positive way as I brush past them.

Cameron is always in my heart and on my mind. She holds onto me and keeps me going. Her life was a blessing and her death was a tragedy. I am a mother because of her. Now she is guiding me, teaching me about life. And –like a child, before her mother– I want to make her proud.

Thanks to the support and prayers of our friends and family, we made it through the 2nd anniversary of Cameron’s death.  We heard from lots of people, and had a nice group over on Saturday.  My dad offered some thoughts to us, though there is no way to accept or process what happened to Cameron.  Her death was, and continues to be, so unfair.  She was such an asset to this planet.  She left too soon.  And we suffer at the loss of her.  But we continue on in our lives.  I am grateful to be able to do that.  It is never easy, but it is so important to keep going.  The example we set for our children and for others is critical.  It is only through the spirit of Cameron guiding me, that I am able to be that person.

Two years ago on January 19th, it happened.  I remember that Cameron had slept in my bed with me the night before.  She had fallen asleep wearing her cloths, a blue outfit with kittens and a patterned skort.  She was a late sleeper, but once she got up was able to completely get herself ready for school.  I went into the bathroom where she was brushing her hair and noticed the top she had put on was a pajama top.  I told her, and rather than be embarrassed she just laughed.  She changed shirts and we took off for school. 

We usually said a “morning prayer” in the car on the way to school.  That day we prayed for Brooklynn because she was sick.  We got to the school and parked across the street– like always.  I had all three girls with me.  I approached the street and looked both ways.  The girls stopped and waited for me to give the okay before they walked across.  I saw the truck approaching.  I saw the driver.  He was driving very slowly and looking ahead toward the cross walk.  I thought he was stopping.  I gathered my girls and said “let’s go.”  It wasn’t until I was almost struck by the truck that I realized he hadn’t stopped.  He just kept right on driving– slowly, straight ahead through the crosswalk.  I was able to stop myself and two of my girls.  But Cameron was one step ahead of me.  And one step was all it took.

Even after he hit her, the driver kept on going.  He had to be flagged down after I screamed.  I handed off my baby and 4 year old and then looked down to see Cameron in the street.  I knew immediately she was gone.  Instantly I had to face the reality that I had lost her.  I tried anyway to save her.  I called my husband and told him to meet me at the hospital.  The ambulance came and we were taken away.  In the ambulance I talked to the paramedics, told them I was a pediatrician, asked if there was anything I could do.  I told them it was okay, gave them a look like I knew.  The woman said “Ma’am, we have to try.”

I had to tell my husband that our daughter was gone.  I had to tell my dad on the phone.  It was so unreal.  I was in such shock.  I am still in shock sometimes.  It doesn’t seem like two years– it seems like yesterday.  It seems like forever.

 I will always miss and love my baby girl.  I will always be her Mama.  I have no words to say what she meant to me.  I can only hope to keep going.  I must make her proud. I must keep her spirit alive!

It’s just one of those days that hurts too much.  I just feel sometimes that I might get stuck, might not be able to carry on.  I feel this way and then slowly, it gets better.  I have no choice but to go on.  I have  a life.  It is altered, and I wish I could go back.  But this is it for me now.  And I don’t know, never will, if Cameron looks down on me.  I just want to make her proud somehow.  I want her to know that she is still in my heart.  She didn’t die out of my life– she’ll never cease to be a part of me.  Lord, only you can give me strength.  Help me carry on.  Give me hope for tomorrow.  Ease my pain.

When I remember you, it seems like forever.  I remember your smile and laugh.  I remember how you used to look at me.  I still can’t look at your picture much.  And I still can’t watch the home movies that we used to make.  We took a dozen hours of you just dancing with your sister. 

When I remember you, I may smile to myself.  If only for a moment, I feel happy and proud.  But when I remember you, its not the same as it once was.  Most people just don’t understand.  I always have my memories, but they cut me like a knife every time.

When I remember you, I hate to say it but its true.  I can’t stop the pages of my mind from turning back to that dreadful day.  If I could have held you, if I could have talked to you one last time– would it still be so painful to look back on my memories ?

Someday I feel in my heart that I will see you again.  I will remember your face, and you will remember me.  Until the day that I die, I’ll love and miss you everyday.  Please know I long for a time, when all the pain goes away.  And I can tell you mother to child– I lived the rest of my life to remember you.

I just want to say how much I miss my beautiful blue-eyed girl.  I am so pleased to do good things in her name, but I really just wish she were here with me.  A mother just never gets used to the idea that her baby is gone.  I still can’t believe it sometimes.  No matter how real it seems or how often I feel it, it is still so hard to believe that she is gone.  Please remember Cameron, her beautiful smile, her charm.  Remember how caring and sweet she was, how smart and talented!  Love your babies.  Don’t forget to spend every moment you can making them feel loved and special.  I didn’t know that Cameron would be gone so fast.  But I am proud to say that I loved her well.  She never felt alone or without the absolute security of knowing that she was truly loved.  Cameron, I miss you.  I love you.  Mama

Please check out the forums.  I have started journalling thoughts there.  If you are a bereaved parent maybe you could share some thoughts.  Susan

I am a bereaved parent and know that there are others out there who may have experienced a similar loss.  Cameron died suddenly, and I was a witness to the event.  It has traumatized me and will stay with me forever.  I have struggled in many ways to stay afloat, and at the same time, have continued to live my life.  I have learned about myself and my family.  I have learned more about this sometimes cruel world than I wish I had to learn.  Bereaved parents are a unique group.  Unless you’ve been there, there is no way to fully understand.  I hope to hear from other bereaved parents.  How do you honor and memorialize your child?  Better yet, how do you find the strength to face each day?