November 15, 2010

So

I cancelled the Typepad Pro service. Obviously I wasn't using it enough to justify even a paltry $8.95 a month. I know that with the pro service came the ability to link the typepad blog to my domain, but I do not know how that works with RSS readers and just..gah. I don't know. Is anyone still out there? If you are, just...you know. Give a holler.

Nov 15, 2010 4:27:48 PM

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We thought he had an ear infection. On Friday afternoon, my poor baby was dripping from both ears. I called the pediatrician around 4p.m. His regular ped was out that day, and I got a return call from one of...
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Here. Wherever that is. The last time I frequented this site with any type of regularity, I was documenting my pregnancy with Max. Then I went away. Then I came back to tell you that my Max was gone. And then I went away again.<br /><br />It's hard to come back and know that you can't write without crying. You can't express yourself with any level of honesty with completely breaking down because how can write about anything else but the singular thing that dominates your entire life?<br /><br />I am pregnant again. Intentionally, for the first time ever. It is a happy time, and we are excited, but as it relates to this blog it is so goddamn bittersweet.<br /><br />Can I come back and document another pregnancy without constantly relating it, even just internally, to the last? Can I talk about Max without fearing for the future? Is it fair to either child? Is it time to just walk away?<br /><br />But I don't walk away, at least not in the sense that I never just close the account, shut the site down. I go on google reader every day and whenever I leave comments I leave my site address. I don't know why. So maybe if I do come back, someone will be here.<br /><br />But what's there to say? It's been almost a year.<br /><br />Max's birthday was on Jan. 13th. I didn't go to the cemetary. I instead fell so quickly and deeply into a depressive spiral that I legitimately wondered if I could pull out of it. I brought my husband into it with me. Mark it up with the rest of my regrets.<br /><br />I haven't been to the cemetary in months. Not since the weather was nice. Maybe July. I actually don't even know if the stone is in yet. I didn't buy it, I didn't really pick it out or choose words to put on it. I don't really care it says. Any message I would have put would have said something along the lines of "take me with you."<br /><br />The anniversary is on Saturday. Tomorrow, the 8th, would mark a year to the day that we went to the hospital. From there I can give an extensively timeline of events down to hours. I took the 10th and 11th off work - I should have taken the 8th through the 14th off, because I realize now that the rest of the week will be spent looking at the clock and knowing that this time last year my baby looked at me and didn't know who I was, or this time last year I watched them conduct an EEG that showed no brain function.<br /><br />This very moment last year I was getting ready to clear snow off my car after a storm. My baby was tired. He was spending the day alternately in my arms or with his daddy. This time last year I had spent the last night I would ever spend next to my baby. This time last year was the last time he looked at his dad and recognized him.<br /><br />Where to go from here? What to write about, what to say? In the last year I've learned the mechanics of putting one foot in front of the other and moving on, but I have not yet learned how to be introspective in writing without falling apart. Learn as you go, I guess.

Kate

I'm not cool.

Molly Ray

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