Good Grief: Month 3

I relive images of the accident and the hospital in my mind. When it happened, I was in shock and couldn't process reality well. Three months out, I relive the hospital with full awareness, and it's excruciating. The doctors told me, "If she makes it to the end of the week, she'll spend weeks in the PICU and months on the hospital floor." IF. I didn't hear the "if." I couldn't mentally tolerate it or comprehend it. If I had heard the "if," I would've done things differently.

I regret ever leaving her side. I regret not being the one who braided her ponytail or rubbed ointment on her wounds. The nurses did those things when I was trying to sleep for a few hours or eat something or be with family and friends who came to support us. I didn't know I only had 4 more days with her in this lifetime. Her death was not a possibility, even though I asked Rob and doctors again and again, "How could anyone possibly survive this, especially a four-year-old baby girl?"

I visit her grave on my bike rides and lay face down on the grass above her and tell her I'm so sorry for the pain she endured.

I remind myself that it's over now, and I ride home.