Sunday, June 16, 2013

fight or flight

The Little One ... I've been expecting his death since before he was conceived. Since his sister failed to thrive and was vacuumed out of  my body at 16 weeks. Since he was hospitalized at 3 weeks old and wasted away until a doctor realized what surgery he needed.

He took his parents' divorce harder than any of the rest is us. Begged me to go back - to love his Dad again. His big brother tried to tell him this was better for everyone. That the little one didn't remember how unhappy we'd all been.

Not remembering and remembering too much - they are opposite sides of the same pain for my hungry ghost sons. Remembering wrongly how good or bad life was and comparing 'now' to an imagined then that may not ever have been.

Driving to get him again today - another  unscheduled and yet somewhere inside of me expected rescue mission - I let the feelings roll through and over me. Fatigue. Resignation. Dread. Relief.

Mostly fatigue. I don't want this fight anymore. I wish for some other champion to help slay his dragons.


  1. A mother's love is POWERFUL, yet how can we fight all of the dragons by ourselves?

    When I've had no place else to go, I've fallen to my knees.

    I find myself doing this often after my sister's murder.

    I can't do it alone.

    Xxx LOVE.

    1. Thanks. I am feeling particularly lost, exhausted, alone and spent this time. I am definitely at the end of my tether. I suppose my knees would be a good place to turn.