Mothe?r Bear

Inspiration comes at me all the time.  In spurts, when I'm otherwise occupied, but today - tonight, it has happenned once again and here I am.  

We are at my in-laws house for Easter weekend.  I am headed upstairs to bed when I reach the top of the stairs to face a picture.  A picture of three girls looking off into the distance while all huddled loosely together.  These are my girls, but what I see is the youngest of the three standing tall - and how mine isn't. 

Why does she not work?

Let me take you to the NICU (nursery) two years ago....... 

At first, it wasn't obvious that my child would be disabled.  I was given a pamphlet on cleft palates - telling me how I wouldn't be able to breast feed in this particular situation.
Alright.  I won't breastfeed.  Wow.  That's all I knew.  I lay back on my cot and considered that one, thinking shit - that's wierd.  Put down the pamphlet and ask the nurse for a pump and some bottles so that we can feed the babe.  Let's go.  Just another way of doing things with some babies. 
And then time went by in our little room.  She and I together hanging out.  My mother in law coming by to pick me up and take me for a walk, my brother, mum and dad, friends, well wishers.  I can't recall..... much of anything....
Michael and the girls.  Him putting on a brave front in front of Maya and Sabrina to celebrate the birth of their kid sister - oh were they ever happy.  They sure uplifted me.  It was so nice having all of my children together with baby's first few days of life, even though we weren't at home together.  We made it work.

I read three books.  Not epic books or anything.  But that reading I believe now, in retrospect was a means for my body not to crumble.  Escape.  Gentle easing myself into accepting such a heart wrenching reality of something wrong with my innocent and perfect little baby.  My baby.  My birth, my pregnancy.  Mine to hold responsibility for.  Mine to get my head and heart around.  Mine to be strong about and mine to move forward with.

Here I am editing this particular blog post, a year later.  This one will build.  This one is mine to add onto as I go on my journey with Layla.  The pain is great I won't lie.  I love that girl so much and I am so sorry if I did anything wrong to do this to her.

It has to be said.  Because it is how I feel whether right or wrong.  Nobody can tell me otherwise.  Now, I do my best to make up for the loss of her being a regular functioning person.  Don't reprimand me for this.  This is a part of my reality, a little part, but a part never the less.

Right now, it is October 2012 and Michael and I are separated.  Our family has come apart and redirected and taken a new shape.  I don't have a companion that is a grown up.  I have my little buddies, they are my little companions.  We all need companionship.  I do.

One day.  One day.  For now, I will spend some time by myself.