Monday, August 31, 2009


I look at my new son, and some of the anger and hurt and pain goes away. I hear my daughter laugh and forget I was just about to cry. And then... I look away, another sound catches my ear, and it all comes rushing back. Not only am I dealing with the actual facts of the situation, I'm dealing with my own fears and speculations- is there more than he's admitting? And the Sex in the City scenes flashing through my head don't help at all.

We are going tonight to talk to some friends that have made it through this. I know it's necessary, but I'm petrified. The last time we tried to talk to someone about the problems we were having I felt blame. I felt stupid and belittled and blamed. (Funny how I still very much respect the people we were talking to, I just really felt like they were having a very off-day that day.) I don't want that to happen again. It can't happen again.

So much of myself wants to run away. Then there is a little bit bigger part of myself that is looking past the self preservation and remembering to grab the kids on the way out the door. Then, the bigger part of myself that knows that space isn't the answer. It's not even really what I want, but the pain is making me feel claustrophobic right now and it's the only answer I can think of. At least I'm smart enough to know that the pain claustrophobia won't go away just because I'm in a different state. It'll follow me, it has no boundaries.

So I'll stay. We have to get through this somehow. I have to get through this somehow.

Goals for the day

1) Stop feeling so tired

2) Find someone I can talk to in confidence about what is going on.

3) Be focused on my kids when I'm with my kids, be focused on work when I'm working.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Goals for the day

So, it's a bit late in the day to finally be posting these, but I've had them in the back of my head all day, and have actually been working toward them:

1) If I can't control it, let it go.
2) Tell Chris about my two newest writing ideas
3) Tell at least one more person about my page.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The last week

It's 2:55pm. My son is 64 hours old. I am sitting by his pod in the NICU, watching his rig cage go up and down, ip and down. Sometimes it goes too fast, but at least it keeps going. The last three days have been kind of a blur. Monday we went Into the doctor and were told exactly what we were hoping to hear: "enough is enough, let's go to the hospital and get this baby out." I was thrilled. We had had an ultrasound the week before, so we knew te baby was big enough to be born. I was past the 37 week mark, so we assumed he was fully developed. I was tired of being sick, of having to limit everything I was doing, if nit being allowed to leave the house except to see the doctor, of trying to defend every action I had taken ever time my blood pressure rose
Amanda Moon