Going? What kind of word is that? Going. Going. Boing. My mind is Going. And that about sums it up. Benjamin is starting to get better during the night. He is waking up at 5 or 6 pretty regularly, and then wanting to nurse. Sometimes I tell him no, there’s no...
It doesn’t hurt like a fresh wound. It’s bothersome like a scab. It was a fresh wound on Monday. It was real. And I cried. But now it’s more like a scab. It gets brushed. Like when I slid into bed last Wednesday night and remembered how I had rested...
Not on Wednesday, when I knew something was going wrong. Not on Thursday, my day in waiting. Not on Friday, when the blood tests showed the future. A bit on Saturday, the contractions hurt so badly. Not on Sunday, the day after it was over. I cried on Monday. Alone in...
I held out hope when the bleeding started. I reassured myself when I made the appointment. I smiled comfortably while I wrapped the sheet around me and climbed up on the table. But when the small talk faded into silence, I knew. There was no labeling of baby parts....
So this is what the Fourth of July looked like at our house: Benjamin: Didn’t sleep well due to his fever, so Josh offered to take him so I could get a bit more sleep. When I finally rolled out of bed, I was looking forward to my usual open-armed-running-hug I...
