Not the bad kind, but just so wrapped up with this process I want it to have happened yesterday.
It kind of hit me a couple days ago that my son or daughter will be born elsewhere. Outside my arms. It was not a fun day. Today is another one.
I wanted to call the whole thing off. Maybe I can have 8 more kids, or at least 8 more tries. There is beauty and pride in poverty. And mania.
Maybe I lied this wasn't the bad kind of anxiety. Anxiety cannot be a good kind. Here come the tears. The snow helps. I heard a beautiful sermon once about how snow is God's reminder of fresh starts with him. I guess this storm is for me and my tears today.
I just really don't have anyone to talk to about it. It is so fucking heavy it blows people's minds and renders them speechless.
I want these babies for my own. There I said it. It hurts so bad.