That Yoda had it right on, eh? Here I am, wanting to write, but for some reason I’m not. I’m pushing myself to write. Just a bit. It can be nothing – I don’t care. Ok, I want my writing to be interesting. I have so many random thoughts right now that my stomach is a bit upset and my hand already hurts from my writing – talk about resistance, eh?
[Oh, wait? Did I just let a cat out of the bag? Yes, I write out my blog entries before I type them out. Shh – don’t tell! It’s part of my inner critic wishing for everything to be perfect! Shocker!!]
Totally OT: Do you ever freak yourself out at night? I do all the time. Every little noise creeps me out when I’m alone-and we have and use a security system on our home. Imagine how I was before we moved here? “Steve, wake up!! Its 3:30 am and I swear I heard someone downstairs!” Poor guy. His oak fraternity paddle rests beside my night table (no, not for that! Dirty minds!!) in case I ever feel the need to case the house for intruders.
Anyway, this past week at the ocean, little Michael slept in a double bed pushed up against that wall. We lined the other side with pillows to “keep” him from falling out onto the wooden floor. No problems, but we didn’t use a monitor, and now with a monitor on here at home, I swear I hear every freaking move he makes…And its on the lowest setting. Oi. Each time he bangs up against the side of his crib, it sounds like “someone” is opening or closing a door in his room. Only a bit freaky.
By the way, have I ever told you WHY I use a monitor? Michael’s lungs are perfectly capable of letting us know when he’s awake, so its not that. When he was first born, I did the whole “Is he breathing?” routine every once in a while, but the biggest fear I had (and still have) is that someone will take him. You know-the whole through the window routine? Terrifying.
(A blog entry full of confessions tonight, eh?)
On top of all these thoughts going through my head, I am worried about tomorrow-or maybe about tonight, I’m not sure. I just feel sadness coming on. Not a devastating ruin the whole day kind of sadness, just a quiet sadness. Do you know how many babies I was exposed to this week at the ocean? I swear they were out in the hundreds, and of course, I saw every single one. Michael helped make sure I saw any I might have missed:
“Look, Mommy! What a sweet baby!”
“Mommy, did you see that tiny peanut?”
“Such a little peanut, Mommy!”
What can I say? We do love seeing babies, but I think I’ve gotten overwhelmed this week. And each time he sting is a little less for me, but a tiny more about what Michael has missed out on by losing his brother before every knowing he existed at all. I am writing tonight because I feel like if I write it out, perhaps I won’t cry it out tonight or tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong-I cry when I need to. I can’t be accused of holding in my emotions-at all. But I guess what I really needed tonight was some therapy. A little bit of acknowledgement that I’m doing ok. My stomach feels better already, if you can believe it. Funny- nothing has changed except my single act of putting down on the page how I feel.
I used to write all the time and loved it. I never judged my writing or questioned it. Just did it. I’ve missed that in my life. I think that’s why I continue to blog. I feel like its something that forces me to just do it. Do or do not. I choose to do. Even if no one is reading it-that’s ok. Sure, its nice to be validated and have my friends know what’s up with me. But I really feel better after I write. And with that, I bid you adieu and good night.