October 3, 2011
My temperature dropped almost an entire degree. If history is any indication, this means miscarriage. Today.
Today I could lose a baby I barely had.
I saw the warning in Andy's eyes all weekend: Don't get too confident. Don't be too sure. It's too early.
As usual, he was right, but I'm not built for heeding this warning. You are my baby, you are here, you exist. You, the one inside of me, will always be the person I cannot keep at a distance, no matter how smart it would be, no matter how many times I tell myself that you may not survive. That chances are you won't.
Please. I'll beg you. I'll beg the universe. I'll beg God. But it feels like I'm talking in an empty room, standing alone here, with you.
Please don't leave. We only just found each other.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
16 months old
Happy 16 months, little boy. You are my sunshine.
I haven't written in a while. My head has been full, cloudy, sometimes dark. There have been days where nothing at all went wrong, yet at the end of it I feel as if I had a bad day. Every negative thing around me -- news stories, other people's blogs, political rhetoric, a world full of propaganda, other drivers, the way the sun hits my eyes -- every small thing that shouldn't bother me is a heavy weight. I want to shut everything out sometimes, but don't know how or why or what to say. It makes me quiet.
Some days, I think the only reason I speak is to encourage Fletcher to say words, something he continues to have no interest in. It makes it hard to know how to respond to his poor behavior. How do you teach someone who has no verbal communication? Do I have to go all Helen Keller on this boy?
Fortunately for him, he's very cute.
See? I can't really get mad at that face. And when he turns those big eyes on me?
This boy is going to break hearts.
Our only news item is he did finally get his blood drawn and we have his allergy results -- he's badly allergic to peanuts, and mildly allergic to wheat and egg white. How exactly do you keep a toddler away from wheat and egg? How exactly do people pay for things like allergists and epi pens? Screw you, allergies.
I haven't written in a while. My head has been full, cloudy, sometimes dark. There have been days where nothing at all went wrong, yet at the end of it I feel as if I had a bad day. Every negative thing around me -- news stories, other people's blogs, political rhetoric, a world full of propaganda, other drivers, the way the sun hits my eyes -- every small thing that shouldn't bother me is a heavy weight. I want to shut everything out sometimes, but don't know how or why or what to say. It makes me quiet.
Some days, I think the only reason I speak is to encourage Fletcher to say words, something he continues to have no interest in. It makes it hard to know how to respond to his poor behavior. How do you teach someone who has no verbal communication? Do I have to go all Helen Keller on this boy?
Fortunately for him, he's very cute.
See? I can't really get mad at that face. And when he turns those big eyes on me?
This boy is going to break hearts.
Our only news item is he did finally get his blood drawn and we have his allergy results -- he's badly allergic to peanuts, and mildly allergic to wheat and egg white. How exactly do you keep a toddler away from wheat and egg? How exactly do people pay for things like allergists and epi pens? Screw you, allergies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)