Last night I dreamt that it was a little over a year from now... and E. was giving birth to twins.
I would leave B. in his cot on one floor of the hospital to provide labour support to E. on another.
---
Thinking about it in the daylight, I wondered at how deep into my unconscious has sunk my despair over B.'s interminable stay. For I despair of ever getting him home. I wonder if they will continue to experiment with his diet until he is old enough to eat steaks, and asks for them in polite Queen's English.
It isn't anything major that has precipitated this malaise... just mind-numbing fatigue coupled with a couple unpleasant facts: that B. appears to be rejecting his new formula, that his hemoglobin continues to drop with no transfusion scheduled, that he has lost 7 ounces in the past three days, and that he has been over three weeks in hospital with no end in sight.
I shouldn't complain. God has been so gracious to us. So merciful.
But I am griping. A little. We do want our boy home.
- V.
Watercolors of the Unexamined Life
1 week ago
4 comments:
God's every mercy and grace upon your little one.
Thank you, Elizabeth, Owen.
- V.
If that's all you can produce for a gripe, then you're a better person than I am. I can only imagine what you must be going through. God be with you and with your little one. You have my prayers.
Thanks for writing, D.I. And thank you for your sympathy and your prayers.
Wanting our boy home is, I find, the beginning and the end to all our gripes. It is the heart and soul of our sorrow.
Everything else is just icing. Malevolent, dark, loathsome icing, but icing all the same.
I doubt I am a better person for failing to articulate better my grief and my upset. I am more of a cudgeled person. Regrettably, 'stunned into insensibility' is not a virtue.
-V.
Post a Comment