August 10, 1999

Saw the attorney today. He told us how to proceed toward custody of Chelsea, but none of it sounds as easy as others made it sound. The whole legal system is ludicrous. The criminals have all the rights, and Mark has all the consequences and hoops to jump through. Megan and Jeff's pretrial hearing was today, but I haven't heard any news yet. Part of me doesn't even care anymore, just punish them and leave us alone.

August 7th, 1999

I haven't written in a few days, but only because I've been too busy. The emotional see-saw continues, although it has lost it's ability to catch me by surprise. I know that seeing children Bethanie's age will hurt me. I know that looking at toys will hurt me, and that the sudden appearance of a Teletubby or dress up jewelry will stab so swiftly that it takes my breath away. I know that seeing children who have been neglected or abused will infuriate me and that I struggle to keep a tight rein on my anger. I know that I am worried about the safety of children to the point of it being an obsession. Worried that if the fall, they will die, instead of just getting the usual skinned knee. I have experienced enough sudden death in my life that I take no one for granted, but since Bethanie's murder, I worry every time one of my own goes out the door or doesn't come home on time. On Tuesday we are seeing an attorney. I'm not sure why we are seeing him, I hope we won't need him for anything. Children's Services has been contacted to set up a home visit, so I guess we will have Chelsea soon. I'm so excited that we will have her for good, it's just a shame that it took this tragedy to bring her to us. Our lives have been forever changed, but Chelsea remains our little ray of sunshine in what has become a very dark world.

August 4th, 1999

Yesterday was Chelsea's 4th birthday. Child Protective Services only gave us a few hours with her but it was wonderful. She looks so much healthier and she is so loving. It was the bright spot in my week.

I have been under so much stress, I decided to cut back to four days a week at work. Today was my first day at home and I got absolutely nothing done. I just feel overwhelmed by daily life. I can't continue like this but I can't seem to even muster up the energy to do anything about it. I can't decide what to do about it. There's just no instruction manual for this. I went to check on Bethanie's memorial fund and found the balance is zero. It hurt. It made me feel like Bethanie doesn't matter. I need to do something, but I don't know what. I tried to do a letter on the computer but it shut down and wouldn't work. My first impulse was to go rent one, but of course, I don't have any money to do that. I don't have any money to do anything. Even if I had the money to rent a computer, there is so much that has to be paid. How can I help Mark and Angie if I can't help myself? I have to, somehow I just have to.

We are planning to go see Jeff Balder next Wednesday. I am disturbed by the whole thing but I think I need to go so I can confront my feelings.

July 30, 1999

Today wasn't so bad. I wish I could figure out what makes some days terrible and some tolerable. I keep waiting for a good day. I hope it comes soon. Even though I didn't cry today, I still felt the pain of loss more times than I can count. It seems that thoughts of Bethanie and the pain of losing her is always there. Sometimes it just whispers, just loud enough to make sure I know it's there. Then there are those moments I dread, when the pain is violent, ripping my heart wide open. It is at those moments that I am weakest, when I would do anything to stop the pain. It's like an emotional bloodletting that only stops when I've been drained nearly lifeless.

July 29, 1999

Yesterday Jeff was charged with murder, involuntary manslaughter, felonious assault, and two counts of child endangering. Megan was only charged with child endangering. I hope they get the maximum sentence, but even that couldn't be enough retribution for the agony they have caused us. The Beacon Journal did an article on Mark and Bethanie. It was a pretty good article, I can't read it without crying, though. I keep wondering when it will get easier to get through the day. Every morning I wake up feeling the pain anew. Evey hour of every day feels as if the wound just keeps being ripped open over and over again. I am literally sick with grief. I cry several times a day, sometimes without warning. In my head I know I have many things to live for, but my heart just wants to die. I'm not suicidal, I just want the pain to stop. My heart just feels like it's going to split apart and it would spills tears instead of blood. I don't know if this agony is normal, I don't know anyone who has ever gone through anything like this. It has only been two weeks, how much longer before I want to live again? I get frustrated about Chelsea. I want her with me so desperately but it is taking so long. I need her. I need her to remind me of my purpose in life. I need her so I can focus on taking care of her, give her the best life she can possible have. I guess I'm hoping that having Chelsea will fill the empty, raw void in my heart.

Tuesday, July 21st, 1999

I set up the Bethanie Gardner Fund today. I'd always hoped that I'd be doing that to pay for her college or wedding. I never imagined I'd be doing it for her burial. More offers of help have come in from friends. I hope they don't all forget. All people want to help in a tragedy like this, but when their pain fades, often times their intentions fade with it. Pure pain will go on; each time it fades something comes along to rip open the wound again and start the bleeding anew Today I sit, hurting, but not crying yet. Waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for the coroner, Dr Platt, to call and schedule an appointment that will so graphically paint the picture of our little girls' last hours. I don't think I can bear it, but I know I must. My mind knows that Bethanie is forever gone, but heart just keeps screaming to just give her back. Giver her back and we'll do it different this time, not let her die. But there are no second chances for this. Our precious little girl is a butterfly now, free in the heavens where she suffers no more. The suffering is now up to us, and suffer is what we do, all we do. Everything causes pain. Babies in restaurants, cartoons, the color pink, talk of death, talk of life; there is no escape, pain is everywhere every minute of every day. Tomorrow I return to work. I wonder how many tears I'll shed just trying to get through the day. I don't want to go, don't want to stay home. I just want my baby back.

At 3pm Dr Platts calls. He says he can't release autopsy details until after the trial and that Det. Gaines must have been mistaken. I know that Det. Gaines said to call right away. I feel like we've suffered dread and anticipation for nothing, only to remain in limbo for as long as the judicial system chooses. We are now just puppets, with the law being the puppeteer.

Another season of memories

My husband and I own a greenhouse where we grown and sell flowers and shrubs. Bethanie's favorite things were flowers and butterflies, so we named it Bethanie's Greenhouse. Every year, as we sell flowers, someone wants to know who Bethanie is. I always give them the same reply, "She was my granddaughter who has passed away; we named it after her because she loved flowers". Oddly enough, it is not my own grief that causes me sadness, but the reaction of others. They're expressions of compassion are what really get to me. If they would just keep on chit-chatting or something it would have less of an impact on me. I can't explain that, it just is. I still remember when we went to buy a dress for her funeral. We needed to ask the store clerk for help finding a long-sleeved dress in July. The clerk wanted to know if it was for a party. When I told her what the dress was for it broke my heart to see the tears welling up in her eyes. It hurt me to hurt her. Does that make sense?