Friday, March 4, 2011

Missing My Baby

I want a baby so badly that it hurts. I'm terrified I won't ever get that chance.  It's not like they come easily to me; some people just seem to pop them out, no problems, no consideration, no base IQ level necessary.  It makes me wonder why God would put Jerry and I through so much. It's that very last part of winter, when I feel like spring is never going to come and nothing good will ever happen to us.  When I feel like I'm not going to make it:  through nursing school, marriage, or my life.  I feel so alone sometimes, so tired of fighting.  Next month would've been my little boy's fifth birthday.  I wonder what he would be like today, where we would be if he hadn't died.  What would I be like?  Five years later, I am still amazed at the complete fallout, the destruction that has ensued in the five years since.  That loss seems to epitomize every aspect of my personality, my daily life-and not in a positive way.  I wouldn't take knowing him away for the world, but sometimes I wish that loss wasn't always the first thing in front of me when I open my eyes in the morning.  It feels like longer than five years since I've seen him and much shorter--like five weeks--since he was taken from me.  I had fifteen days.  That's it! How can I miss someone so deeply who was here so briefly?  I miss him so badly that it hurts to breathe.  If I was able to apply the "break up rule" to this situation, I would've been over this in fifteen days.  It takes the same length of time you were together to get over it, right?  I figured out a long time ago that I won't be getting over it.  Everyone will just assume that I am and shrug and say, "What's her problem?"

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