Death Becomes Her

I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately; mine, specifically.

Last week the longest nap Farrah took was 40 minutes.  That happened once and that was it for the day.

I can’t believe her sleep is deteriorating.  I didn’t think it possible.  If I had to guess I’d say she’s doing the switch from “two” naps to one at a very premature age (9 months) and that her one nap is going to be less than an hour.  Death.

I think things like “Why is she trying to kill me when I am the very thing sustaining her?” and “I wish I was dead because that’s the only way I’m going to get a break.”  Not that I want to die – the opposite is true – I’m just like Kevin Costner running from the CIA only with less chest hair: there’s just No Way Out.  It was a very bad week with lots of anger and outrage, tears and screaming.  I am very good at separating what I can do with Farrah and what I can’t (this blog for example) and I cannot fill an entire day, minus 40 minutes, with my 9-month-old.  I can, but I don’t want to.  I will disappear completely.

I was angry, angry, angry all week long.  Thursday night I sobbed in the bathroom, sick and sad and tired of my ugliness.  Friday I made it to Acceptance.  I had to in order to save us both.  I still don’t know what I’m going to do, I have a few ideas (stop writing this blog for example), but I don’t know what it’s going to take or if it’s going to take all of me.  I suspect the latter.

I asked Kris to take some pictures of me and Farrah this weekend.  I needed to see us being us, the beauty of us.  I need something to hold while I’m in Acceptance.

Death Becomes Her Death Becomes Her Death Becomes Her Death Becomes Her Death Becomes Her


9 thoughts on “Death Becomes Her

  1. Holy crap. That’s miserable. I hear you. My stepmother said, “I never wanted to hurt my baby, but I sure as hell wanted to get in the car and drive until I ran out of gas.”

    It’s for purely selfish reasons that I suggest you NOT stop writing–I look forward to reading your stories because they remind me that I made it out of the little baby stage. On the finite line of how much time and energy you have, I don’t think you will find replenishment in GIVING anything more. Love–even the love between a mother and child–is about give and take. It’s time for you to take. A very wise woman who had been married for 50+ years once told me that–the hard part of love isn’t the giving; it’s the taking.

    But the LAST thing you need is another woman like me saying, “Well, here’s what you need to do, Silly!” Your feelings are real and they are important. They are also temporary. You’re going to be OK. Farrah is going to be OK.


  2. Love the Costner reference. Hate that you are going through this. I remember when E was dropping naps completely and I insanely took to driving her through back roads until she napped. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. I wish I just would have gotten to acceptance sooner. Dammit!


  3. Pingback: Her | Black Panty Salvation

  4. Pingback: Properly Outraged | Black Panty Salvation

  5. Pingback: Shop ‘Til You Drop | Black Panty Salvation

  6. Pingback: Babylust | Black Panty Salvation

  7. Pingback: I’m Afraid to Stop Having Babies | Babylust | Black Panty Salvation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: