Until Wednesday, I will be womaning this ship on a solo basis. After enduring 10.5 months of night terrors (by which I mean the terror of waiting for my son to wake up at night and thus destroy my sleep and psyche), the time alone is counted in nights. I should be over it because mostly, the boy has great sleep habits. But my own habit -- the one where my gut wrenches itself when I hear him crying between the hours of 8 p.m and 7 a.m. -- is dying a little hard.
It's night one. 11 p.m. 8 hours until the boy wakes up to what is sure to be a cranky Monday morning (on all fronts). I better get to sleep before all my Zs slip through my fingers.
This started as an online journal in early 2006. At the time, it was a carefree spot for silly diatribes and the occasional photo. Since then, I got pregnant with mono.amniotic mono.chorionic twins, learned one of our daughters had a heart defect, spent 11 weeks in a hospital room and 29 more days with Eva in the NICU and PICU before losing her. We have two children who are alive and thriving and one who didn't make it. For me, this has become that place in between.
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