If we were to use this pregnancy as a measurement of time, Evel was already dead, I was home, had just started this blog and knew somewhere in my broken heart I wanted to help others who wouldn’t be waking up from this nightmare either.
I want everyone’s attention, but wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.
I want to know how this will end.
I want to know this will end differently than before.
I have no choice but to live my life either with this child, or suddenly without. There is no alternate ending in real life.
I put together a bassinet today. Twice actually.
Backwards the first time.
I laughed because it’s just my luck.
It’s like somehow screwing in a light bulb upside down, or trying to stick the bottom of a bottle in a baby’s mouth instead of the nipple.
This white, flowing, beautiful bassinet disconnected my hands from my brain.
I was tightening when I needed to loosen.
I was thinking of the crib I had assembled nearly three years earlier.
A hand-me-down crib a baby had grown out of.
A hand-me-down crib my baby never grew up in.
I thought I could use that same crib, but I can’t.
It was the one big-ticket baby item that tricked us both into believing we were going to have a baby in this house.
Every time I see it in the closet I want it to disappear.
So now there is a bassinet.
A white, flowing, beautiful bassinet with a little canopy and air vents and storage on the bottom.
I hope I won’t regret throwing the box away.