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 am always more apt to post on a bad day than a good one.  Writing is therapeutic for me, but it may seem to visitors on the site that I am in desperate shape.  I appreciate all the support and positive comments from my friends, family and former patients.  It is so meaningful for me to receive messages from parents of children I helped in some small way.  I know that occasionally I helped in some large way, and I am thankful to be a part of peoples lives in that way.

Today was a good day.  I was off from work today, so I didn’t have nearly as much anxiety as usual.  I was able to get the kids to school and spend lots of time with my baby and my husband.  I rested, read books, ran errands, and took a long walk.  After dinner the whole family played outside in the finally warmer weather.  It felt normal.  It felt nice.  And I felt okay– not guilty or sad or mad or depressed.  That’s truly an accomplishment for me!

I hope that all my friends in McAlester are doing well.  I miss being there this time of year.  We had the best yard ever in McAlester.  We were kind of on a hill, and we could see across the interstate to the golf course and club house.  Everynight we had a beautiful sunset.  I can’t tell you how awesome those sunsets were.  And we had families of deer that waltzed through our yard almost everyday.  They would stop to eat the corn we left outside.  Sometimes they would stay for 15 to 30 minutes.  We often saw a couple of fawns in the early summer and we would watch them grow and change throughout the year. 

I appreciate the book drive being headed up by Mrs. Horton at Jefferson.  It’s great to know that Cameron is still thought of, missed and loved.  She was a true inspiration to so many, and with your help we can keep that flame alive.  On behalf of Cameron and all of us, I thank 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!

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.

We are so excited about the recent requests for books from teachers and student teachers.  Many of the teachers work with poverty level students and also students who speak Spanish as their primary language.  We are happy to help these teachers out by sending books for their students.  We sent several to Grace Hill Elementary in Rogers, AR.  Walker Elementary in Springdale, AR.  and one to Perry Elementary in Oklahoma. 

Derrick has also sent books to Chidren’s House in Fayetteville as well as other shelters around the state.  We are concentrating on places where children might not otherwise have books to read.  These included Haven House in Heber Springs, AR.  Women’s Crisis Center in Jonesboro, AR. Peace Counseling Center in Conway, AR.  Little Rock Compassion Center.  Mary and Martha Center, Dequeen, AR.  Jackson House, Hot Springs, AR.  Healing Place, Pine Bluff, AR.  Women and Children First, Little Rock, AR. and Safe Passage in Melbourne, AR. 

Tomorrow, our baby girl turns one year old!  On January 31st of last year, I was at the clinic working and a heavy snow started to fall.  I went to my OB appointment around noon and according to the doctor, still had a few days to go until my baby arrived.  The due date was Feb   10th. I remember wanting to make it to February, so January could be Cameron’s month.  I came home that afternoon excited about having a baby on the 6th of Feb– the date my OB and I has settled on for induction.  Derrick and I finally committed to the name Carington.  We had picked out the middle name, Hope, almost as soon as we found out she was to be a girl. 

At 4:30 A.m. on Feb 1, my water broke.  This is exactly the time and same way my labor started with Cameron.  There was no denying it was time to go to the hospital.  I think my parents were in shock when I called them.   They drove carefully from Rogers on the snow.  Mom, Derrick and I arrived at the hospital around 6:00.  Carington was born at about 11:30 a.m.   7 lbs 15 oz, 20 3/4 inches long. 

I am sad that she will be one tomorrow.  It is causing me a lot of anxiety.  She is my baby girl.  Just like Cameron was.  Cameron was the first, Carington the last.  How do I know that she will be safe?  She has brought real joy to my life during a time that joy was stripped away from me; a time during which I thought I might not survive.  Carington is my hope. and Cameron is my inspiration.  And Kennedy and Brooklynn have given me a reason to keep going when my will to go on was otherwise missing in action.  My girls– they are all so precious to me.  I want to be the best mom to all of them.  I want them to live and prosper and contribute to this world in a positive way.

Happy Birthday, Carington Hope.  Happy February.  Good-bye to another January.  I keep holding on to the past, but the days keep rolling on.  2008 is here.  Let’s make it a year to make a difference.  It’s another chance to make Cameron 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.

This is a letter I wrote and sent to the editor of the McAlester Capital News:

 I am writing this letter on the occasion of the second anniversary of the death of my granddaughter, Cameron Averitt Bobbitt.

 Cameron was the child of my heart.  Because of her mother’s severe case of endometriosis, she had to be conceived with the help of fertility specialists.  The process was very painful and expensive and carried no guarantee of success.  On my birthday in the year 1999, two perfect embryos were planted in my daughter’s womb.  I was fortunate to be the only family member to see them under a microscope before they were implanted.  They were perfect circles, one much larger than the other.  Only one survived.  That one became Cameron Averitt Bobbitt.

 Following the wonderful privilege of seeing her before she began to grow in the womb, I was present at her birth.  Hers was the first birth I had ever witnessed.  I was in awe of the wonderful miracle, and my joy and excitement were complete.  I felt an instant connection with this tiny baby.  After all, I had known her from her beginning.

 As I gazed into her face for the first time, I felt that it was not the first time at all.  I knew I had seen her many times.  I had studied that face in the ultra-sound photos; I had seen it as part of a microscopic circle; and it was the very face of her mother.

 Throughout Cameron’s short life I would tell her, “I was the first person to ever see you alive.” 

I think she knew that what I really meant was that I loved her more than words could say, because one time she replied, “I was the first person to ever see you alive too!”

 When you reported Cameron’s death, you gave information about the driver, Mr. Max Kenyon, but you did not tell very much about Cameron orher family.  You quoted Mr. Joslin, superintendent of Frink School, as saying the family was new to the community and virtually unknown.  You did not mention that Cameron’s mother was a physician who had been recruited by the hospital to serve the area because it was medically under served.

 I am writing this letter to correct the impression you gave that Cameron was an insignificant, unknown person whose death didn’t matter.  It mattered very much to me.

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!

Well, its the beginning of a new year and once again the anniversary of Cameron’s death.  Her “Heaven Day” is January 19–  and this will be the 2nd anniversary.  Pray for our family as we struggle through this difficulty time of memories and grief.

We have lots of new books and Derrick has sent out many parcels recently.  The lucky recipients are mostly shelters and schools around the state.  These include Benton County Sunshiine School, Benton County Women’s Shelter, Elizabeth Richardson Center, EOA Children’s House, NW AR Children’s Shelter, Helen R. Walton Children’s Center in Bentonville, and Kid’s First in Fort Smith.  We hope these children enjoy the books that you have shared with us, and we in turn with them through the inspiration of Cameron.

We also were featured in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette this past weekend.  The new article is available for viewing through a link above on this page.