Tuesday, September 6, 2011

living the dream

Or "Welcome to My Nightmare."

I still some days, when I hear that enchanting chirp that is my alarm, roll over, slap the snooze button, and hope I hear a cry.  Just a little whimper maybe?  Something.  Or maybe I will put my hand on my massively bulbous belly, feel those good strong kicks, and I will realize...

But it's not.  It's not just a nasty, horrendous, cruel, horror-show-that-is-my-new-life, big, fat, fucking dream.  And I hate it.

There are parts of my life that I love.  A few of them in fact.  Meadow, Lennon, Lee.  Being Holden's mommy too.  It just wasn't enough.  It will never be enough.  I didn't get enough time.  Sure, I'll always be his mommy, but I want to be the kind of mommy who gets to cuddle, and feed, kiss booboos, help with homework, straighten ties, and the countless other things I will never get to do for him.  I don't have a little boy.  I WANT my little boy.

Sometimes it feels like Holden's life was just a dream.  A sweet, beautiful, I-never-want-to-wake-up-again, kind of dream.  I'm glad it's not.  Because at least I had that.  And it was real.  Holden was real.  Holden is real.  And he is loved.