One of the things that happens to a person when she experiences a trauma is that her brain alters itself in order to allow her to survive the trauma. For the first 4-5 weeks after Cameron’s accident, the scene constantly replayed in my head. I would see it over and over again like I was watching a movie. I finally went to therapy because I knew I couldn’t bear to keep watching it play out, unable to change the outcome. After a few weeks of therapy, the movie was turned off– but other things took its place.

I experienced guilt of huge proportions. Anger, loss of faith, loneliness, bitterness, sheer agony, helplessness. I can’t even explain all the places my mind went trying to grasp what happened to our family. I am really proud of how far I have come and what I’ve been able to accomplish despite my overwhelming, unimaginable loss. But here’s the thing– my brain is still protecting me. And I am torn. On the one hand, I have truly made major strides. I’ve learned to live again, be a mom, a wife, a doctor. I’ve learned to be a friend. I regained some passion for what is important to me in my life. I’ve reconnected with God, who never gave up on me. But… I’ve lost so much in the process. I’ve lost Cameron, that goes without saying and yet I must say it. But I have lost the thing that made me, well, me. I’m not sensitive. I rarely cry. I don’t emotionally attach to situations, stories, people. I am blocked. In my head I can be mad, happy, frustrated, please, infuriated. But in my heart I am still numb. I don’t feel thinks– I just think them.

So what is so wrong with that? Nothing, in some ways. I mean, it is easier to just be able to hear or see something horrible and think, “That’s terrible” and then be over it. I don’t take my patient’s problems home with me. I don’t worry and worry about things the way I used to. But, I feel empty. I feel less than whole. And I cannot experience Cameron the way I want to, the way she deserves. And I know it is just because it would hurt too much. I appreciate what my brain is trying to do for me. But, God, I miss Cameron. Not just her being here, but what she meant to me. She was my first born, the baby I worked so hard to conceive. The sweetest and cutest and smartest little jewel of my heart. How can I survive her? What kind of mother am I to be able to go on as if it is okay that she is gone? How do I keep her real, her name and spirit alive, when my brain works overtime to let me forget?

So maybe when I go on this 3 day- 60 mile walk, I will learn to feel again. I will be able to honor her life and feel her presence with me. I hope to have a truly emotional and religious experience. I hope to feel alive and know that she is with me, every step of the way!!!

Dear Adam Hix:

Thank you for collecting books for Cameron’s Amazing Book Club during your birthday party.  It is so generous of you at age 6 to collect books instead of presents.  You will make some other children very happy and I know your parents are proud!

Thank you!

The Bobbitt Family

Thanks to Gavin who collected books for us at his 6th birthday party.  These books are being donated to Happy Hollow Elementary School in Fayetteville at Gavin’s request.  The books you collected are really beautiful– my kids checked them out before we sent them.  Hope your schoolmates enjoy them.  Cameron is smiling down on you from Heaven!

Just wanted to update you on some recent donations made from our book club.  Children at the following locations have received books from us:

1. Christ-Way Community Services in Marion, AR

2. Center for Children (ACH) Lowell, AR

3. Holly Street Daycare in Nashville, TN (by request)

4. Potter’s Clay Crisis Shelter for Women and Children in Hot Springs, AR

5. Children’s Emergency Shelter in Fort Smith, AR

6. Safe Place, Morrilton, AR

Derrick is very diligent about sending these out on a regular basis and I cannot keep up with him!  He takes a lot of pride in distributing these books to needy children in memory of our precious baby girl!

We have been so blessed that several children have decided to collect books for the book club at their birthday parties!  This is such a great way for the kids to get involved and learn the joy of giving.  I know they love helping pick out books they have read or would like to read.  We have received some really beautiful books lately!

Thanks to Anna, Sophie, Riley, Emma, and Andres for helping remember Cameron on your birthday!  It really means a lot to our family and your books will make a difference in children’s lives.  Keep up the great work!

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 tucked a little angel in tonight.  Before she went to sleep I held her tight.  She felt just perfect in my arms.  I am so blessed to have her in my life.  I am so blessed to be her mom.

I remember holding Cameron that same way.  It is hard to remember the good times for the trauma that we suffered.  But to have held her for a little while, well that was a blessing.  I pray that I’ll never forget the gift.  I don’t want to confuse the journey for the destination.  It is true that we all have the same destination.  So it is only in living the day to day that we get to make a difference along the way.

My angel in Heaven, look down on me.  Keep me and dad and your sisters safe.  We miss you so much, baby girl.  But where you are now no pain can ever come to you.  Good Night, sweet heart.

We had a very nice time on our trip to McAlester.  The whole family went, and we got to see lots of our friends.  We visited several schools and donated book.  We went by Jefferson Preschool, where the April book drive was held, and I was able to read a book to some 4-5 year olds.  They collected over 50 books for us.  It warmed my heart.  Some wonderful friends held a drop in party for us and lots of our friends, co-workers, and church family stopped by.  It was so good to see everyone.

On day two we made stops to Cameron’s old Mother’s Day Out and Kindergarten.  The ladies at MDO were so glad to see us.  They were amazed at how Kennedy and Brooklynn had grown.  It was the first time they got to see Carington.  At Frink, we visited the Cameron Bobbitt Trail of Life.  It is a full walking track with a beautiful bench area.  The bench has Cameron’s name on it, and it is located in a heart-shaped rock garden.  The stepping stone I made last year looks great, and I left behind an angel-shaped plaque with the footprints poem on it.  We got to see Cameron and Kennedy’s teachers, librarian, and principal.

On our way out of town, we stopped by the clinic where I worked to check out Cameron’s tree.  It is another memorial area, and it looks just beautiful.  The tulip tree is thriving in a well maintained bed with her plaque and angel.  We left behind a cross.

We cherish all the people of McAlester who never forget us or let us feel unloved.  What a wonderful and supportive community!  We will always be connected to you.

Dear Friends:

Today is Mother’s Day.  It is my third without Cameron.  She sent flowers to the clinic on Friday that said “I’m watching you and you are making me proud.  I miss you!”  Wow!  Tuesday the 13th is her birthday.  Last year it was on Mother’s Day.  She would have been 8.  I should be planning her birthday party right now.  Instead I am planning a trip to McAlester.  I am going to take some books to area schools and pick up some books from a book drive they held in April.  I really do look forward to seeing my friends from McAlester.  I miss you all.  Though we lost our precious Cameron there, we made some wonderful friends.  The beauty of the people still shines through as you continue to remember us and Cameron.  God Bless You!

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!