Bruised

Bruised….swollen… Tired. I lay next to him, heartbroken and fearful, trying to desperately figure out what happened.
In instinct… I knew. But how could someone be so cruel.
I slept on the floor. I held my baby as she cried. Was she crying for her brother? I cried so hard my bones hurt… My head felt as though it could explode… My body shook violently.
I took my son to urgent care. Blood work was ran. Just slightly anemic.I asked if it could be abuse….
Following morning we went to a followup appointment…. Had me scared to death he may have cancer. Oh my God, please not cancer. But the alternative was a horrid thought as well.
My son and I cuddled and held hands and talked. He said he didn’t feel good but the doctors would make him better. I became even more worried.
On to the cancer doc we went.
They found nothing wrong. Thank god it wasn’t cancer, yet now my heart broke in a different way.
On our walk over to the emergency room, holding hands… I knew. Someone was abusing my beautiful amazing son. And I knew that CPS would step in and take him. I hoped and prayed not.
Then the unimaginable happened… They removed him from my care, along with all my other children.
I wanted to die.
I wanted to step into traffic.
I wanted to jump out of the moving car.
I wanted my heart to just stop mid beat.
In pain from crying already… The pain intensified. Became brutal.
My head became clouded. I couldn’t think. Time disappeared and became painfully slow.
Functioning felt impossible.
Eating caused me to become sick.
Drinking water made me sick.
I found blood in my urine.
I prayed for death every second.
Every fucking second… With every breath, I pleaded for death.