Today I crashed. I woke up exhausted and set up camp in the living room. We laid blankets and pillows on the floor and the kids and I spent the entire day watching TV. A friend is helping me process through my Post Traumatic Stress and instructed me to not watch anything that is too stimulating. So, all of my dvr'd spy shows are out for the moment. We watched cartoons and cheesy, mindless shows. We all just really needed to decompress.

I'm kind of floating. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. I can't quite feel things. I'm just sitting on the surface of my emotions and memories. I look back at what happened with Daisy and my brain just won't let me access the depth of the experience. I can remember most of the details, but as soon as I think of them I shut down.

I watch her now and I am so so incredibly grateful that she is here with me. She is playing and smiling and crawling. I just cannot imagine life without her. Not for a single moment.

Daisy is having severe separation anxiety. The past two nights she has woken up every couple of hours screaming and clinging to me. During the day she panics if I leave her sight. Towards the end of today I literally just couldn't put her down. If I sat NEXT to her she would cry and crawl into my lap. The only other person she will go to is Joe.

I am so sad that she seems to remember that something happened. I was hoping she would smoothly transition into life at home, but it seems like it's going to take a little while. Of course I am so willing to hold her and comfort her as long as it takes, but I am so exhausted. And poor Judah. He needs some serious mama time and the best I can offer is snuggling on the couch for the few minutes Daisy is asleep. He is only 3 1/2. I want to hold that boy while he will still let me!

I am so, so grateful for my parents who took the older kids for a sleepover tonight. I am praying for some real sleep. PLEASE let Daisy sleep. If we can get some rest tonight maybe we can start to get our lives back tomorrow. Or maybe I'm reaching for something that will slowly work its way back to us. Maybe I'm trying to jump into normalcy and our lives will always be a little altered. Maybe normal will become something different.

Aravis tends to draw her feelings. She is such a little artist and is constantly asking me to hang her pictures on my bedroom wall. Today she drew this...

It's Daisy. In the hospital. With tubes and sensors.

The first thing I thought was, "This is in her head. It's etched there forever. She drew this from MEMORY."

Oh Jesus. Mercy for my girl. She won't say much about it, but she told me that when she misses Daisy she let's her pull her hair. I think it's her way of saying, "Even the annoying, painful things Daisy does reminds me that I still have her."

And, once again, Aravis reminds me that even the difficult, crashing days remind us that we're all here. And that makes them worth it.