A True Story.

This is a true story.

I am sick. Sick, sick, sick. I am so sick, in fact, that I can't talk. I can only squeak and whisper. This is not fun. It hurts to talk, and no one can hear me.

The girls are sick. Sick, sick, sick. I took them to the doctor this morning and they were both diagnosed with bronchitis and prescribed an antibiotic. This is not fun. They are dazed and confused, and no one can hold their attention.

On the way from the doctor's office to a drive thru to grab some lunch, I had this conversation with Tater. Remember, we're sick. Sick, sick, sick.

Me: What would you like for lunch?

Tater: Huh?

Me: What would you like for lunch?

Tater: Huh?

Me: What would you like for lunch?

Tater: Chicky Nuggets and French Fries. And a toy.

Me: Well, you have to eat all of your food in order to get a toy.

Tater: Huh?

Me: Well, you have to eat all of your food in order to get a toy.

Tater: Huh?

Me: Well, you have to eat all of your food in order to get a toy.

Tater (clearly irritated): Just say "never mind."

Me (relieved): Okay then, never mind.

Tater: Huh?

If you find my voice, please bring it back.

A Letter.

Dear Miss Carry,

I don't even know where to begin. I don't know what to say to you. Who do you think you are? Who are you to come into my life and my family -quietly, slowly, deliberately - and take something that doesn't belong to you?

Why don't you leave? You have come and taken what you have wanted - so why are you still here? Every where I turn, every where I look, every time I try and turn my mind to something else, you emerge from hiding, you gloat, and you always find a way to remind me of what I have lost. And what you have won. Do you point and laugh? Do you claim a loud victory? Or do you stare quietly and intently, watching for the glimpses of grief?

I have to ask, Miss Carry, when do you leave? Or do you ever leave? Even as the weeks turn into months, and the months turn to years, will you always be around? Will you be around every corner to remind me of the sharpness of my pain? Will you be giving silent nudges to stir my sorrow? When others around me forget what you have taken, when no words are ever spoken, will you still find a way to show me what should be mine?

You need to know that you didn't just take from my womb, Miss Carry.

You took from my heart.

Signed,
Mommy

Here I Am.

Here I am. That's really all that I can think of to say right now. I've been away for 4 months. I've had some changes in my life; changes that I will talk about soon, just not right now. I have been drawn back to this world of mom blogs - life blogs really. I first came back by lurking, then by commenting, and now by attempting to restart this thing that I once enjoyed immensely. I hope to return to that place where I enjoyed telling the stories of my life.

Even the hard ones.
Even the sad ones.

But I'm here. And I guess that says something.