Military Mom: Another Sleepless Night

The following was written by Georgia Stillwell, member of Military Families Speak Out. Georgia, 44, voted for very first time in 2004 and recently returned from DC where she took part in the Operation House Call campaign and had a 30-minute meeting with the Speaker of the House.

I am living in a nightmare. Is all this pain and destruction ever going to end? I am hearing all these other stories of pain and devastation of families. The knot that lives inside my stomach since the war began is growing. I used to be able to alleviate it somewhat by purging myself through my writing or my activism. I can't anymore. There isn't anymore relief. I refer you to the following blog: (Operation House Call)

Military families outside the Capital for 6 weeks and hardly anyone notices...
People on a hunger strike outside the White house on their 27th day and hardly a whisper.
Many participating in acts of civil disobedience no one hears.

Mothers hugging tombstones trying to will their children back alive...
Mothers lying awake at night crying for their children that have returned home living in PTSD hells we can't even fathom. I am one of these.
Families that feel like they can't breathe while their loved one is currently in harms way...waiting for the dreaded knock on the door.
Our children injured and maimed.
Dead Iraqi Men, Women, children and babies. More than we even know.
We cry alone and we cry together. Embracing each other through this vile creature called war. It has wrapped us in its arms of which I feel no escape.

How much love will it take to end this war? My child is your child and their children are our children and we all are interconnected. Please God end this madness.

America...AMERICA...AMERICA...America, SAVE OUR CHILDREN!!!

Am I yelling into a barren land of souls? I am begging, I am pleading, and I am on my knees... Do what ever needs to be done. Do whatever you can and then do even more.

I know that there are people out there doing all they can and with all my heart I thank you!

Its 3AM...another late night rambling of a soldier's mother that can't sleep. My son will never be the same. How I miss my boy...the tears streaming down my face now. I am helpless to erase the memories. The memories of his fellow soldier's brains spattered on him, the face of the young boy my son killed because they thought he had a bomb, he didn't. My son wounded by shrapnel, the medals he received which are in the bottom of a drawer in an old Wal-Mart plastic bag. My last trip to Washington DC I met with many high officials but the biggest event was when I called home to my son and told him what I was doing and I heard the voice of my first born child say "Thanks Mom."

I have purged myself again though never feeling completely clean. Maybe I'll sleep. Maybe I'll dream of a world where we don't kill each other.