Journal #3

Can't sleep...reading Radical Survivor...the book about the woman who lost her husband and 2 small children in a plane crash. She doesn't write in a style I necessarily like, I am about halfway through and still waiting to get to the meat of the subject. She gave a lot of history of her parents and grandparents as well as her husbands, and thrown in are letters she received after the accident. She isn't very emotional, not yet anyway. She has a phd in education and is a high achiever and admits she loved doing her work as much as spending time with her boys. I'm just having a hard time relating to her.

Also feeling guilty. Even though she didn't necessarily put her children over her job, she was a really great mom and wife. Besides work, all her time and energy was devoted to her kids and husband, even when she was battling breast cancer two times. A close friend of mine who lost her eldest on just over a year ago was a mom like that. She had her son cremated, and during the process she was asked if there were any metal pieces in his body, and she rightfully exclaimed, "He never even had a cavity."

I never had a career I cared much about. I did not put as much into being a mother as I could have and should have. The only explanation I can think of is that I was young, 20 when she was born, and although I loved her more than anything, I still had a lot of growing up to do. I also have to blame my own parents a little bit. When there were problems, sometimes I had the tendancy to put my head in the sand and hope it would go away. My own parents were that way with me, but even more, sometimes they were downright neglectful. I saw my tiny one year old start putting on weight and I should have put a stop to it then. But I did not. When she was 3 and 4 and taking dance classes there were many times she would cry, wanting to go to McDonalds and skip class and I would do it. I couldn't give her what I wanted to give her, but I could always afford a Happy Meal. I always hoped she would shoot up tall or something but that never happened. Once she reached 5'5" she grew no more. So she was always the chubby kid. She never told me she was bullied but her friends have told me things, some while they were happening. Instead of trying to figure it out I would go to pieces. I never let Cassi know I knew because I was afraid it would embarass her, in front of ME, and I was her biggest cheerleader. I have absolutely no doubt that her weight problems that would plague her the rest of her life had a devastating effect on her. During college, she hadthe lap band procedure done and lost 80 pounds in six months, but was left with excess skin and stretch marks. My daughter never got to wear a bikini, past the age of 2. All teenage girls should get their time to strut down the beach in a bikini without having to worry about anything, completely comfortable. I take full responsibility for this. Once a child is overweight, her chances of ever having a normal size body go down the drain. When she was little enough, I controlled her eating, she could only eat what I gave her. But I would be tired from work, stressed from life, and it would be easier to give her ice cream or a cupcake than to go outside and play with her.

I had the best kid...but she didn't have the best mom, so why is she the one who had to lose her life???