You like that post from yesterday? The one that just said "lazy" and nothing else? That was cool, huh? I posted that from bed, from my iPhone, because all I wanted to do was read Moby Dick in bed and I just didn't want to let one day go by without posting. Totally accomplished! It counts even if it's one word.
Oddly enough, there doesn't seem to be an iPhone app for Blogger/Blogspot. Whaaa? That just doesn't seem right. Because this whole thing would be a lot easier if there were one; trying to navigate this in my phone's browser sucks.
My mom is doing well, still in a lot of pain, but hanging in there, thank God. I, on the other hand, am broke. I'm about to transfer $200 from my savings into my checking account, something I hate to do and rarely do, but I have no choice. Being poor makes me sad. I'm not exaggerating, I'm poor. I'm am living below the poverty line. Have any idea what that is like? Let me tell you, it's not as hard as it sounds, but it still sucks. One of these days I might break it down for you, what I make a month and what I spend a month on bills. I usually have about $300 left over after paying all my bills to buy food, gas, and whatever else I need. Good thing I work close to where I live or the gas might drive me under. I do live paycheck to paycheck, I only usually get about $50 a month into savings, if I am lucky, that is, and have any money left over. You know what the hardest part is, as trite as it sounds? Not being able to take vacations with Squido. When I was a kid, my mom took me on vacations all the time - twice a year at least. In the summer we would go to Cape Cod or Block Island, in the winters we would go to Disneyworld. On weekends she'd take me to Boston to the children's museum and the Boston Aquarium, or we would go to fairs, the circus... it was great. I had a great childhood, and I wish I could give Squido the kind of fun times that I had, but I can't afford it. My grandparents live in Florida only two hours away from Orlando, and they keep asking me to bring Squido down to see them this year, and I just don't know how I can. I don't know if I want to spend my tax return on it. To take a weeks vacation is missing a week's work, so I'd be behind on bills, and the stress of that... would it make it worth it?
You know what? I don't feel like complaining today. I had a good day. I'm going to just stop now.
Showing posts with label squido. Show all posts
Showing posts with label squido. Show all posts
Day 10 : Kids These Days
I'm still really annoyed with the internet connection problem, and the fact that I didn't have one yesterday. Granted I only wrote a short post because I had a very full day, still. There's this thing I'm trying to do here.
Anyway, Squido got droppd off at nine and we shortly thereafter went to my friend Brit's house. Brit has a daughter about the same age as Squido and they have been playing together at least once a month since they were babies, but evidently in the last month or so, Squido has lost her ability to share. Scratch that. She's lost her ability to be sweet, reasonable, kind, and good. They fought most of the day, which I wasn't surprised about at all. I was just surprised that Squido actually let me hold Brit's baby, a two month old boy! I was sure Squido would be completely jealous and not let me get near him, but my god, she actually gave me a break for two seconds and excused the fact I was holding another child. Thought the day would never come.
However, the day went completely downhill from there. Squido walked through our door after leaving Brits, and immediatley went into meltdown mode, and every little thing she said came out as a whine for the rest of the night. That's right, from about 3pm til now, 8pm, whine whine cry cry whine scream cry tantrum whine scream scream scream cry whine whine. You get the idea? Is this normal? Moms out there, please answer me! Is it normal for a 3.5 year old girl do nothing but argue and cry and whine FOR NO REASON? Or is my child broken. I just want to find the right people to go to, raise my hand and say: "I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. I thought this was a child, but evidently it's a whine-demon." Remember a few posts ago when I told you how Squido's vocabulary was exploding and she knew all sorts of new big words and could use them correctly? Today I heard (multiple times) "I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE, MOMMY!!" And yes, caps were required, because she screamed it at me. Every single time.
I think it's that time I leave my history books behind and go hardcore into parenting books until I find a way to figure her out. I am not sure how much longer either of us can live in the misery that is her moods. I really hate that I feel like resorting to parenting-help books to figure out how to raise my child, but there are no bones being thrown at me here, it's all just a guessing game and all my guesses are wrong.
Does anyone have any books or articles you could recommend to me to help me out with dealing with a willful, disobediant 3.5 year old? Or, could you start off by telling me whether at 3.5 years of age I should expect even a little bit of obedience, of listening to what I tell her and having her do it?
Please. Help. Me.
Anyway, Squido got droppd off at nine and we shortly thereafter went to my friend Brit's house. Brit has a daughter about the same age as Squido and they have been playing together at least once a month since they were babies, but evidently in the last month or so, Squido has lost her ability to share. Scratch that. She's lost her ability to be sweet, reasonable, kind, and good. They fought most of the day, which I wasn't surprised about at all. I was just surprised that Squido actually let me hold Brit's baby, a two month old boy! I was sure Squido would be completely jealous and not let me get near him, but my god, she actually gave me a break for two seconds and excused the fact I was holding another child. Thought the day would never come.
However, the day went completely downhill from there. Squido walked through our door after leaving Brits, and immediatley went into meltdown mode, and every little thing she said came out as a whine for the rest of the night. That's right, from about 3pm til now, 8pm, whine whine cry cry whine scream cry tantrum whine scream scream scream cry whine whine. You get the idea? Is this normal? Moms out there, please answer me! Is it normal for a 3.5 year old girl do nothing but argue and cry and whine FOR NO REASON? Or is my child broken. I just want to find the right people to go to, raise my hand and say: "I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. I thought this was a child, but evidently it's a whine-demon." Remember a few posts ago when I told you how Squido's vocabulary was exploding and she knew all sorts of new big words and could use them correctly? Today I heard (multiple times) "I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE, MOMMY!!" And yes, caps were required, because she screamed it at me. Every single time.
I think it's that time I leave my history books behind and go hardcore into parenting books until I find a way to figure her out. I am not sure how much longer either of us can live in the misery that is her moods. I really hate that I feel like resorting to parenting-help books to figure out how to raise my child, but there are no bones being thrown at me here, it's all just a guessing game and all my guesses are wrong.
Does anyone have any books or articles you could recommend to me to help me out with dealing with a willful, disobediant 3.5 year old? Or, could you start off by telling me whether at 3.5 years of age I should expect even a little bit of obedience, of listening to what I tell her and having her do it?
Please. Help. Me.
Day 7 : Not Great
At least I have an outlet for whining and complaining now.
Today was another pretty bad day. I get to hear that my best friend, you know that one I keep calling my best friend, made plans to go to the beach this weekend with three other girls without mentioning it to me. I got to hear about it through Facebook. The great thing about that is, I actually do have a babysitter this weekend, and now just no friends to share it with.
I am really, really starting to think something is going horribly wrong in my life. Why are people doing this to me? I just don't understand, and pretty soon, I'm going to just have to start asking. I tell her all the time that I feel left out, and she makes no apologies or excuses. I think it might be because we work together four days a week. She begged me to give her this job, and I had so many reservations, but I did it anyway. And now I suddenly only see her one night a week outside of work. Like since we see each other at work all the time there's no need to actually make plans with me and hang out with me outside of work. I don't know if she gets that, but my God, if that is the case, if she feels she sees me enough, or too much, I'll go crazy. I already feel like I am going crazy.
I just don't think people see my life for what it is - lonely. Yes, I have a child, yes that means I have company all the time, but mature company? Company that converses with me about things that are going on, things that I want, things that I've done, things that I want to do - no. Five nights a week, here I am, sitting here alone. And by the way, is there ONE mommy blogger out there who doesn't have a boyfriend or husband, and is happy being alone all the time? JUST ONE?? Please let me know if you find her, if she's out there.
My mom can see it. I see her once a week and I know she can see it that I'm upset and she calls it "depressed." When I think of people with depression, I think "Sad for no reason - sad in spite of all the great things going for them in their lives." I know, I mean I KNOW with conviction that I'm not depressed. I'm unhappy. I think that's worse.
Now it's nearly 11pm and Squido is still awake upstairs. I put her to bed around nine, and two hours later I can still hear her banging around in her room and I can't decide whether to go back up there and tell her she needs to lay down and go to bed, because I think it might be better for her to let her just do her thing and poop herself out than it would be to go in there and get her mad and upset if she will still insist on not wanting to go to bed. However, Elmer is either locked in there with her, or he ran out the door last time I had it open and we'll never see him again. Let's hope she let him in her room and locked him in there - I suppose I best go up there and check on her and get him out.
Oh, blog, oh world. Will one of these days come along when I'll wake up in the morning content with what I have and not be left wanting for so much more? I hate remembering back to the days I know I was happy, the days I didn't feel like this at night, so hopeless alone. It makes me so angry that those days are gone, and that I can't seem to find a way to get them back.
I need better friends. I need new friends.
Today was another pretty bad day. I get to hear that my best friend, you know that one I keep calling my best friend, made plans to go to the beach this weekend with three other girls without mentioning it to me. I got to hear about it through Facebook. The great thing about that is, I actually do have a babysitter this weekend, and now just no friends to share it with.
I am really, really starting to think something is going horribly wrong in my life. Why are people doing this to me? I just don't understand, and pretty soon, I'm going to just have to start asking. I tell her all the time that I feel left out, and she makes no apologies or excuses. I think it might be because we work together four days a week. She begged me to give her this job, and I had so many reservations, but I did it anyway. And now I suddenly only see her one night a week outside of work. Like since we see each other at work all the time there's no need to actually make plans with me and hang out with me outside of work. I don't know if she gets that, but my God, if that is the case, if she feels she sees me enough, or too much, I'll go crazy. I already feel like I am going crazy.
I just don't think people see my life for what it is - lonely. Yes, I have a child, yes that means I have company all the time, but mature company? Company that converses with me about things that are going on, things that I want, things that I've done, things that I want to do - no. Five nights a week, here I am, sitting here alone. And by the way, is there ONE mommy blogger out there who doesn't have a boyfriend or husband, and is happy being alone all the time? JUST ONE?? Please let me know if you find her, if she's out there.
My mom can see it. I see her once a week and I know she can see it that I'm upset and she calls it "depressed." When I think of people with depression, I think "Sad for no reason - sad in spite of all the great things going for them in their lives." I know, I mean I KNOW with conviction that I'm not depressed. I'm unhappy. I think that's worse.
Now it's nearly 11pm and Squido is still awake upstairs. I put her to bed around nine, and two hours later I can still hear her banging around in her room and I can't decide whether to go back up there and tell her she needs to lay down and go to bed, because I think it might be better for her to let her just do her thing and poop herself out than it would be to go in there and get her mad and upset if she will still insist on not wanting to go to bed. However, Elmer is either locked in there with her, or he ran out the door last time I had it open and we'll never see him again. Let's hope she let him in her room and locked him in there - I suppose I best go up there and check on her and get him out.
Oh, blog, oh world. Will one of these days come along when I'll wake up in the morning content with what I have and not be left wanting for so much more? I hate remembering back to the days I know I was happy, the days I didn't feel like this at night, so hopeless alone. It makes me so angry that those days are gone, and that I can't seem to find a way to get them back.
I need better friends. I need new friends.
Day 4 : Cleaning House
When I got home from work and picking up Squido from daycare tonight, we had a healthy dinner of Wendy's chicken nuggets and fries, and then I dragged her upstairs to "help" me clean my room.
Cleaning my room consisted mostly of putting clothes away, as I tend to be the type of person who lives out of laundry baskets for months on end before putting away clothes. I have just lately been getting into the habit of cleaning the downstairs of my apartment pretty regularly and wanted to tackle the upstairs also - my room and Squido's room is up there, plus a half bath in my bedroom. Since I moved in, which was oh, three months ago now, I haven't technically cleaned my room. There were clothes in laundry baskets, books still in bags and boxes that needed to be put on the shelves, and two bags of miscellany clothes that I still haven't tackled yet, sitting in a corner. The fact that I haven't touched these two garbage bags full of clothes in the three months that I've lived here leads me to believe I could tie them up and throw them in the nearest Salvation Army bin without a second thought - because obviously if I have gone that long without looking at them, I don't really need them. However, they still sit there, those two darn bags, because I have such a hard time giving things up.
So anyway, Squido and I were up there for probably an hour and a half tonight in the sweltering heat of the upstairs - don't you hate that? And, um, she didn't really help all that much.
I don't know why people use the term "terrible twos" when referring to toddler sized children. From what I recall, there was nothing terrible about the twos. Nothing at all. Squido was at her most adorable, most sweet, most loving and cuddly from two to three years old. I swear, on the very day of her third birthday, she changed into a completely different kid. Suddenly she has attitude! Opinions! Feelings! Things were so much simpler at age two, when she wasn't potty training, when she wasn't using the word "NO" every five minutes, when she she wasn't WHINING ALL THE TIME!
I asked a lady, a lady at work who is turning out to be a great friend of mine (Don't know about her, but I sure consider her a friend and not just an associate at work) whether it gets easier as kids get older. She has four kids of her own, three boys and a girl, all of them in their late teens/early twenties, and she said: "No. It gets harder." And I thought to myself, my god, how can this get harder? I'm at the end of my rope sometimes, sometimes I just weep because I feel like I can't handle this mothering job, that I am so afraid I am going to horribly screw her up, like I am never going to get a handle on how to make a child happy so that they don't scream, fight, hit, and disobey?
Please don't think I have a bratty child, though. Squido definintely has her moments, and it just seems to me that those moments are coming a lot more frequently lately now that she has such an expanding vocabulary, she comes home learning new words and phrases every day. For instance, today while we were cleaning she used the word "stupid" correctly in a complex sentence. I was putting some books away, when I heard her start crying in her room. I could tell right away that it wasn't an "I'm hurt!" cry, it was more of a "I'm so pissed off at the world right now, RIGHT IN THIS MOMENT, that I have to make this noise! I HAVE TO!" kind of cry. And then she whined: "This stupid cat won't get out of my room, mommy!!!" That would be Elmer. A moment later she came trudging into the room with all 15lbs of Elmer clutched in her arms, and dropped him on my floor, turned around in a huff, went in her room, and slammed the door.
So I said to my friend at work, "Why?? Why doesn't get easier?" and she said, "Because then the kids become teenagers."
O.M.G.
Here's a picture of Elmer:
Can you tell there, that his tongue is sticking out of his mouth a little bit? That's because he has a snaggletooth, which I will try to get a good shot of soon. And the snaggletooth, that's because he got bit in the face by a big dog when he was a little kitten. My poor, big, dumb Elmer.
Cleaning my room consisted mostly of putting clothes away, as I tend to be the type of person who lives out of laundry baskets for months on end before putting away clothes. I have just lately been getting into the habit of cleaning the downstairs of my apartment pretty regularly and wanted to tackle the upstairs also - my room and Squido's room is up there, plus a half bath in my bedroom. Since I moved in, which was oh, three months ago now, I haven't technically cleaned my room. There were clothes in laundry baskets, books still in bags and boxes that needed to be put on the shelves, and two bags of miscellany clothes that I still haven't tackled yet, sitting in a corner. The fact that I haven't touched these two garbage bags full of clothes in the three months that I've lived here leads me to believe I could tie them up and throw them in the nearest Salvation Army bin without a second thought - because obviously if I have gone that long without looking at them, I don't really need them. However, they still sit there, those two darn bags, because I have such a hard time giving things up.
So anyway, Squido and I were up there for probably an hour and a half tonight in the sweltering heat of the upstairs - don't you hate that? And, um, she didn't really help all that much.
I don't know why people use the term "terrible twos" when referring to toddler sized children. From what I recall, there was nothing terrible about the twos. Nothing at all. Squido was at her most adorable, most sweet, most loving and cuddly from two to three years old. I swear, on the very day of her third birthday, she changed into a completely different kid. Suddenly she has attitude! Opinions! Feelings! Things were so much simpler at age two, when she wasn't potty training, when she wasn't using the word "NO" every five minutes, when she she wasn't WHINING ALL THE TIME!
I asked a lady, a lady at work who is turning out to be a great friend of mine (Don't know about her, but I sure consider her a friend and not just an associate at work) whether it gets easier as kids get older. She has four kids of her own, three boys and a girl, all of them in their late teens/early twenties, and she said: "No. It gets harder." And I thought to myself, my god, how can this get harder? I'm at the end of my rope sometimes, sometimes I just weep because I feel like I can't handle this mothering job, that I am so afraid I am going to horribly screw her up, like I am never going to get a handle on how to make a child happy so that they don't scream, fight, hit, and disobey?
Please don't think I have a bratty child, though. Squido definintely has her moments, and it just seems to me that those moments are coming a lot more frequently lately now that she has such an expanding vocabulary, she comes home learning new words and phrases every day. For instance, today while we were cleaning she used the word "stupid" correctly in a complex sentence. I was putting some books away, when I heard her start crying in her room. I could tell right away that it wasn't an "I'm hurt!" cry, it was more of a "I'm so pissed off at the world right now, RIGHT IN THIS MOMENT, that I have to make this noise! I HAVE TO!" kind of cry. And then she whined: "This stupid cat won't get out of my room, mommy!!!" That would be Elmer. A moment later she came trudging into the room with all 15lbs of Elmer clutched in her arms, and dropped him on my floor, turned around in a huff, went in her room, and slammed the door.
So I said to my friend at work, "Why?? Why doesn't get easier?" and she said, "Because then the kids become teenagers."
O.M.G.
Here's a picture of Elmer:
Can you tell there, that his tongue is sticking out of his mouth a little bit? That's because he has a snaggletooth, which I will try to get a good shot of soon. And the snaggletooth, that's because he got bit in the face by a big dog when he was a little kitten. My poor, big, dumb Elmer.
Day 2 : The Sickness and The Fear
So my daughter, Kiddo my Squido, was quite sick last night and today. I went out to dinner last night at a local diner with my friends Rachel, her son Gabe, and her boyfriend Brad. I had just picked up Squido from daycare before going to the diner, and she had a great day there - spending all day in the preschool room playing with the big kids, no accidents, she was happy and excited to be eating pancakes soon on the way there. Just as I finished cutting up said pancakes and she poured on her own syrup, Squido suddenly clung to me and put her head on my chest. She said she had to go potty, so I took her to the bathroom where she peed quickly, and then afterwards tore off her sweatshirt (the air conditioning makes it freezing in there). She looked all sweaty, and I thought she had just gotten warm, but I knew in the back of my mind there was something wrong. But, she wanted her pancakes so we went back to the table. Within 2 seconds of sitting down, before she could even take a bite, she power puked all over herself, the booth, and the floor. Luckily none hit the table!
Needless to say we skipped dinner, and went home. By the time I got her home I realized that she had a fever - I swear this was the fastest developing sickness of her life because she was FINE an hour before - and tried to convince her to take tylenol, but she refused (We have such a hard time with taking medicine.) A few minutes later, as I was in the kitchen squirting liquid tylenol into a juice box (works like a charm every time) she ran into the kitchen, and immediately puked on the floor. Then she ran to the bathroom door and she puked on the floor. Then we got into the bathroom and she puked on the floor, and on her bare feet. Yay! I will never know why this kid refuses to barf into buckets/bags/toilet, etc.
We got her cleaned up and I got her to drink down her special juice box, and she immediatly laid down on the couch and went to sleep. Her fever must have spiked and broke because I woke her up two hours later and she was covered in sweat, but she took more tylenol and then I put her to bed for the night.
When we woke up this morning I knew Squido still wasn't herself. We set ourselves on the couch and put in our first movie of the day (I think I watched eight kids movies today) and Squido didn't leave the couch all day, sleeping on and off for hours at a time, and eating and drinking just enough for me to feel comfortable. She's sleeping soundly now, and hopefully will be all better by tomorrow because I think it is just the 24 hour bug that I hear has been going on around here lately.
I have been doing a lot of websurifing lately and finding new blogs to read. I know I am going to sound naive here, but I just can't believe how many blogs are out there written by parents who have lost babies. When I was 32 weeks pregnant with Squido I went into early labor and had to be sent to the hospital where I was kept there on monitors and terbutelene(sp?) for two days. There were a lot of doctors coming and going and telling me about the various risks to her health if she were born then, and particularly any time before 35 weeks. I was terrified that something horrible was going to happen, that I was going to lose her. But I didn't. I was put on bedrest for four weeks, and didn't do anything but go from the couch, to my bed, to the bathroom. At 36 weeks they let me start moving again. At 38 weeks Squido was born healthy.
There's so much pain here on these blogs - sometimes it's too much for me to take, thinking about all the what ifs. I didn't know anything about being a mother when Squido was born, I was not prepared for it. I feel like.. no, I KNOW that I didn't have very much of a bond with Squido before she was born. I wasn't excited to be pregant, I was terrified. Terrified I would do everything wrong, terrified of her hating me, terrified of the fact that underneath it all, this was an unwanted pregnancy and the troubles that I had with her father while still pregnant did nothing to help the situation or my feelings toward it. But then, when she was born.. Suddenly all I was terrified of was her wellbeing. Would she be okay? Is she okay? From the moment she was born I was scared - scared of losing her. It was like I was born to be scared of losing her, like everything I had ever done in my life lead up to preparing to handle the fear, the immobilizing fear of being a mother to someone who you love so much it would kill you if you lost them. I live with that fear every day, still. I don't think that it will ever go away. But God, what if those fears were ever founded?
My heart goes out to all you parents who have lost your babies. I know it may sound trite and small, but really. I wish I could hold all of your hands, and please know that even though I don't know you and don't know how you feel, I feel with you anyway.
Oh, what a weird blog post. I hope that I don't keep going on and on about this for months, but for the record, I never would have written anything like that on my other blog. If you want to know a secret, that was the first time I ever called Squido's conception "an unwanted pregnancy." I thought it would make me feel dirty, bad, and horrible. But actually I feel like a weight just lifted off of my shoulders, because I know that it is true, and I'm okay with that, because for some reason it makes me feel like I love her even more. It's weird that I can be detached from that thought. Because I would never give Squido up - I can't imagine not having her in my life and I would be completely lost without here. But it feels good to admit that having her was not what I wanted at that point in my life. To say it and not feel bad about it. How many more moms are out there who feel the same way?
My wrist is starting to really cramp up and hurt.. I do too much typing every day. I hate to stop like this, because I have a feeling that this is a subject I am going to have to come back to again, and maybe again and again.
Needless to say we skipped dinner, and went home. By the time I got her home I realized that she had a fever - I swear this was the fastest developing sickness of her life because she was FINE an hour before - and tried to convince her to take tylenol, but she refused (We have such a hard time with taking medicine.) A few minutes later, as I was in the kitchen squirting liquid tylenol into a juice box (works like a charm every time) she ran into the kitchen, and immediately puked on the floor. Then she ran to the bathroom door and she puked on the floor. Then we got into the bathroom and she puked on the floor, and on her bare feet. Yay! I will never know why this kid refuses to barf into buckets/bags/toilet, etc.
We got her cleaned up and I got her to drink down her special juice box, and she immediatly laid down on the couch and went to sleep. Her fever must have spiked and broke because I woke her up two hours later and she was covered in sweat, but she took more tylenol and then I put her to bed for the night.
When we woke up this morning I knew Squido still wasn't herself. We set ourselves on the couch and put in our first movie of the day (I think I watched eight kids movies today) and Squido didn't leave the couch all day, sleeping on and off for hours at a time, and eating and drinking just enough for me to feel comfortable. She's sleeping soundly now, and hopefully will be all better by tomorrow because I think it is just the 24 hour bug that I hear has been going on around here lately.
I have been doing a lot of websurifing lately and finding new blogs to read. I know I am going to sound naive here, but I just can't believe how many blogs are out there written by parents who have lost babies. When I was 32 weeks pregnant with Squido I went into early labor and had to be sent to the hospital where I was kept there on monitors and terbutelene(sp?) for two days. There were a lot of doctors coming and going and telling me about the various risks to her health if she were born then, and particularly any time before 35 weeks. I was terrified that something horrible was going to happen, that I was going to lose her. But I didn't. I was put on bedrest for four weeks, and didn't do anything but go from the couch, to my bed, to the bathroom. At 36 weeks they let me start moving again. At 38 weeks Squido was born healthy.
There's so much pain here on these blogs - sometimes it's too much for me to take, thinking about all the what ifs. I didn't know anything about being a mother when Squido was born, I was not prepared for it. I feel like.. no, I KNOW that I didn't have very much of a bond with Squido before she was born. I wasn't excited to be pregant, I was terrified. Terrified I would do everything wrong, terrified of her hating me, terrified of the fact that underneath it all, this was an unwanted pregnancy and the troubles that I had with her father while still pregnant did nothing to help the situation or my feelings toward it. But then, when she was born.. Suddenly all I was terrified of was her wellbeing. Would she be okay? Is she okay? From the moment she was born I was scared - scared of losing her. It was like I was born to be scared of losing her, like everything I had ever done in my life lead up to preparing to handle the fear, the immobilizing fear of being a mother to someone who you love so much it would kill you if you lost them. I live with that fear every day, still. I don't think that it will ever go away. But God, what if those fears were ever founded?
My heart goes out to all you parents who have lost your babies. I know it may sound trite and small, but really. I wish I could hold all of your hands, and please know that even though I don't know you and don't know how you feel, I feel with you anyway.
Oh, what a weird blog post. I hope that I don't keep going on and on about this for months, but for the record, I never would have written anything like that on my other blog. If you want to know a secret, that was the first time I ever called Squido's conception "an unwanted pregnancy." I thought it would make me feel dirty, bad, and horrible. But actually I feel like a weight just lifted off of my shoulders, because I know that it is true, and I'm okay with that, because for some reason it makes me feel like I love her even more. It's weird that I can be detached from that thought. Because I would never give Squido up - I can't imagine not having her in my life and I would be completely lost without here. But it feels good to admit that having her was not what I wanted at that point in my life. To say it and not feel bad about it. How many more moms are out there who feel the same way?
My wrist is starting to really cramp up and hurt.. I do too much typing every day. I hate to stop like this, because I have a feeling that this is a subject I am going to have to come back to again, and maybe again and again.
