It is good to be here and devastating. Reminders everywhere. I sleep better than I have in days. Your sister falls asleep with her arm over me – she is also feeling the effects of your sudden disappearance. I am grateful to be alive, to be snuggled up next to her. You were supposed to be here too. I don’t understand.


Being home. I want to check out. Watch a movie. Read a book. Bury my head in the sand. Ada needs me, wants me to witness her aliveness. She has my physical presence but inside I’m not fully here and I know she can feel it. Somehow I need to take care of myself and of her. I’ve never done this before. This wasn’t how the juggling act was supposed to go.


I look in my closet and can’t figure out clothes. Nothing’s right anymore. The maternity clothes have become my mourning wear. I’ll never be pregnant again. I start thinking about how to give them away but I won’t fit into my real clothes for a while.

I think of my moby wrap, tucked away in a corner. I’ll never carry you in it, your warmth against my chest.

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One Response to Home

  1. no, this isn’t at all the juggling act you were prepared for. sometimes taking care of ada is taking care of yourself, sometimes not. sometimes you’ll need a boat, sometimes a kayak.

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