Journal entry by Ann — Jan 30, 2019
My dreams about Logan are torture. At first I am so excited to see him. It is him, but he is never the same boy that I once knew. Either he is silent, doesn’t interact, or just fades away.
This time he is about 8 years old sitting in a chair snuggling with Scott. Though it is after his accident, he can’t move cause his back and neck are broken so he needs us to lift him out of his wheelchair and place him there. He also has the same blue cast on a broken arm that he really had when he was that age. Though in my dream he is only eight, not almost fourteen, he has the mind of a three year old. He is unsure of everything and keeps asking the same question. “Do I get to put my pajamas on too?” And I continually assure him yes, I’ll go get them. But as I try to go to his room he asks again seeming nervous that I won’t come back. This continues throughout the whole dream. And Scott keeps looking at me concerned at his behavior. We both know it will be like this, but are unwilling to accept Logan’s limitations.
My alarm wakes me up and I want to scream Noooooooo. I want to see more of him. I want to snuggle him. I want take care of him. I want to help him with all his needs no matter how difficult they are.
It is just another reminder that he is not here. When a day starts in tears and sorrow it is so difficult to get the day on a different track. The hardest part is when it is not only me. Each day can be filled with one of us in this state. You wake with tears streaming down your cheeks. Tears that now can’t stop. An anchor with my punctured heart attached is thrown over board. I can’t pull it back up, at least not on my own.
Lord, lift me up. I have to get out of bed take care of my girls and teach school. Please give me a clear mind and motivation. Dry my tears cause when they see mine theirs will be likely to flow. Lord, the continual heartbreak is just too much
Child loss and my journey 