Please, give me justice!
I remember when Corey was born. During the day I was visited by people almost constantly. They were holding him, taking pictures of him, and loving on him. Face it, with a mug like his, who could resist?
Then there were the nights… when I was completely alone in the hospital with him. He came C-section so I was in a lot of pain. And I really didn’t know what to do with a baby. I’d never nursed a baby, never dealt with the sleeping habits of a day old child, and certainly wasn’t prepared for the bowel habits…
I was terrified.
How would I do this???
I was by myself.
I hurt.
I most certainly was not enough.
But when he cried, I pulled myself out of bed, went to his plastic bassinette, and took care of my baby.
And I did every day of his life.
Whether I was scared or in pain didn’t matter.
He was my child…
I did it through his father and my divorce, and through his step-father.
Through the good and the bad.
And I held him once again as he lay dying while we waited for the ambulance.
Cold, sweaty,
Begging him not to leave me.
And now I’m left here wondering if I could have done something that would have kept him here.
Or if there is some reason the police haven’t solved this crime. Have I committed some sin that Karma is repaying me for?
Is there some terrible thing I’ve done to the witness that makes them want to keep their knowledge close to their chest?
Because the only one that they are hurting is me.
The one that gave all she had to bring Corey into the world.
The one that pulled herself out of that hospital bed and decided to be the best mom she could be NO MATTER WHAT.
The one that held him as he lay dying.
Please.
Give me justice for my son.
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