My arms are empty and acheing...

I can’t believe I’m a mother without…

Life has been twisted and turned upside down. As a mother, I had both the wonderful privilege of holding my sweet son as I brought him into this world…and the horrible chore of holding him as he took his last breaths and left this world, at only 7 years old. June 24, 2010 he earned his angel wings, passing away after an inspiring but brief fight against Cystic Fibrosis. Now I live, solely focusing on living a life to get to be with him again in heaven, and to raise awareness for Cystic Fibrosis research. I am dedicated to a cure, not only for my sweet sons legacy but so that other CF families never experience the greatest loss of their lives that we are now facing. My mother’s arms are missing Connerman, yet he still inspires me daily to leave a mark of LOVE on this world…so for you my sweet prince, mommy will try!

Love Love Love

Always Always Always

Monday, August 16, 2010


Life is moving in a way I don’t want it to.

a way i never wanted nor intended it to.

it’s moving forward…without him.

i’m having to now figure out how to find a balance in my heart when someone wants to get together, and i too want to get together, but the last time we met up he was there too…its so hard to jump into that.

it’s hard to explain it to the others, those on the other side of the fence

i’m tired of all this crap

i’m tired of feeling like i’m 30 and instead of enjoying some of the best years of my life watching our children grow, i’m forced to relearn everything i ever knew. all over again. but without him.

im so tired of eating

i’m so tired of screaming

i’m so tired of crying

i’m so tired of hurting

i’m so tired of missing him

i’m so tired of feeling so afraid of the next day

i’m so tired of thinking about how i’d give ANYTHING, ANYTHING to change the outcome

i’m so tired of sitting here at this dumb computer that we bought so we can have a laptop while away in the hospital with him, only to realize that now he’s not here…and never again will be

i’m so tired of feeling so pissed off that the physical fight is done

i’m tired of smiling

i’m tired of being tired

i’m tired of simply being.

this pain is literally crippling. i see his face…i speak his name…and my whole body hurts. with an intensity greater than i’ve ever known. and i don’t know how to get past this. i’m tired of looking back at posts from just a few months ago thinking that then i had it so good. he was here, not feeling like any child should ever, but he was here…i could touch him, smell him, talk to him, look at him, watch him, cuddle with him, feed him, nourish him, give him his meds and his therapies, i could cry for him and with him i could pray for his healing, i felt so strong then.

and now…

weak is how i’d define my spirit.

my body feels like there’s not one more thing i could possibly take. that i’m reaching out to all my friends and family and i’m trying to be happy and i’m trying to take one tiny baby step in front of the next one but my soul is screaming to stop.

to end all of this.

not life…but the suffering.

only there is no clear way of doing that except to continue to walk thru this. day after day after day, minute after minute, hour after hour…and it hurts like hell.

7 thursdays ago i held my son for the last time.

7 thursdays ago i begged him to let go to end his suffering.

7 thursdays ago i prayed for him

7 thursdays ago i showered him with kisses and snuggles and hugs and affection knowing it would be the end, but never would it have been enough…

7 thursdays ago i watched my son struggle to survive and to let go

7 thursdays ago i saw cystic fibrosis for just what it is, the devil in disguise

7 thursdays ago i fed him his “last supper”

7 thursdays ago we were surrounded by love from friends and family

7 thursdays ago i held him as tight as i could w/o compromising his poor breathing

7 thursdays ago i felt his body slowly grow colder

7 thursdays ago i watched as each breath became farther and farther apart, helpless to stop it

7 thursdays ago i watched my son die. and with it my dreams for his life died too…my heart died a bit too. all of my relationships, all of my trust, all of my faith in the way life SHOULD be died as well.

and now 7 thursdays later i’m desperate to be back those weeks ago. when i had him. when i held him. when i breathed for him. when i love love loved him, when i knew it would be always always always…but never again would it be enough.

never again would it compare.

never again my life would be free from pain, the greatest pain anyone could ever face

never again will i be able to look at a child or baby, and not remember him then.

never never never…

i will never be ok i will never get “over” this. i will never be free from this pain. i will never again feel the way inside that i used to feel.


and today, 7 thursdays later…everything that i am, ever was, or ever will be…is now defined by the death of my sweet 7 year old boy. and today, i know for sure i will never be ok.

now…7 weeks ago, my 7 year and 77 day old son, Conner is gone…and i wish, i only wish that i could’ve saved him…

7 thursdays ago my life revolved around my sons life

and now 7 thursdays later my life revolves around his death…

Lord help me…














  1. oh Sarah... *hugs*

  2. My heart aches for you! Prayers and love from AZ!

  3. I love you so and I so wish I could help ease your pain.

  4. Prayers and tears from Arkansas... keep writing, screaming, breaking glass. Whatever it is that you have to do. Do it. Life is cruel. Life isn't fair. We get robbed. It's ok to be mad. It's ok to be jealous. It's ok to hate. For a while. All of it. Ok. Profound grief grabs us by the heart and squeezes every last ounce of life from us. Those damn sunrises are no comfort nor is the dark heavy feel of night. Wake me. Shake me from this nightmare. Pinch me, bruise me. Make is feel again. We are never the same after profound loss. Foolish are those who think we'll get back to our old selves. That self is gone. A different self will emerge. Eventually. At our own pace.

  5. My best friend passed away from cystic fibrosis 2 months ago. Her parents have been a bastion on strength for the rest of us. They keep telling us that she isn't in pain anymore, and that she's finally free, breathing, running, living eternally the way she couldn't always live on earth. The pain that we, those that have been left behind feel, is massive. But I don't think it's anything compared to the pain of those who suffer from the disease. I was lucky in that I know my best friend came to peace with her fate long before she passed. The hatred and anger that you feel are right, and just, and you should yell and scream all you can. But you must also live your life, enjoy your other children, savor each and every moment that you have with them because that is what Connor would have wanted.

    I don't know if this will help you, but, it has helped my friends parents quite a bit. The last thing my best friend, Laura, said to her parents was the most beautiful and heart wrenching things I have ever heard. She wished her father a happy early fathers day, and she told her mom that now she could stop worrying about her (laura) and could go live, and she told her to do just that, live a little. I have a feeling that Connor would tell you the same. My best friends parents went to Atlantic City this weekend and played blackjack (her favorite game), and bet loads of money on black 21 (her favorite color and number in roulette).

  6. Tears and praying for you. I know I can't imagine what it is like to to be where you are. To be thrust into a new normal that you didn't choose and never would have. I pray that our Lord will comfort you Sarah. I have no more words.....

  7. You can do this. You are strong enough, I can tell by the way you handle all of this. You will do this. :)

  8. He was such a beautiful boy. I can't fully understand what you are going through bc I am not you, but from reading I can of course tell how much pain you are in. I hope you have a support within your family, especially your husband who is the only other person who can truly feel the loss the same way. Hopefully you're also able to enjoy you're other children, I'm sure they too miss their big bro. You'll survive and find strength in it all, in the love you had for him. Maybe not this month or year but you will little by little with every tiny step.

  9. I wish could say something to ease your pain. I'm praying for you.

  10. You don't know me but I just want to say that reading this brought tears to my eyes...
    I'm hoping that you'll heal over time and that you'll hold on to your faith for you have a beautiful angel amidst you now. No words can fill the void that you now have but please know that strangers like me commiserate with you.

    I admire your strength. Bless you!

  11. There is nothing else to say that I haven't stopped praying and thinking about you. I can't begin to imagine and yet when I do, I know that I would only be where you are and feeling the same way. I know there are no comforting words, just know that others are hurting for you and with you and praying for you.

  12. I always want to comment but feel so inadequate with words for you. I have no way of knowing what you are going through and honestly, I can't really even let my mind go to that place. I thought of you Sunday night. I had to take my Hunter to the ER for Ativan to stop a seizure. I thought about how many hospital stays you endured with Conner and I thought about my own hospital stays with Hunter. I always say I hate the hospital and I do - as I hate the reason we are there. But it hit me Sunday night, sitting in the ER, watching Hunter sleep; that really, being with Hunter in the ER and when he's admitted IS crappy and I hate it, but I've been so close to Hunter in those times. No other kid there, no husband most of the time, no grandma, grandad, etc...just Hunter and I. MAN, I feel for you and I hate this ALL for you so bad!

    I'm rambling and I don't want to make anything worse for you with words. So, I'll stop now. Hopefully, you might follow where I was trying to go and realize that I just want you to know that I love ya! I'm here. I'm not much help but I cry with you. I think Conner is simply gorgeous and I hope you know I pray for you every day. I always want to leave a comment - mostly so you'll know I've been here to check on you - but may not say things "right".


    love, love, love - always, always, always


Related Posts with Thumbnails

Did You Know....

There are over 100,000 people, the size of a small city, on the transplant list in the US.

There were less than 10,000 deceased organ donors in the US last year. (that's a ratio of 1 organ donor to every 10 transplant patients).

In the time it takes you to shower today, 1 new name is added to the US transplant waiting list.

From the time you woke up this morning to the time you wake up tomorrow morning, 18 people will die waiting for their transplant in the US.

click here to join the organ donation registry