silence.

Mum "K/Half Noise"

do i forget that she has happened? now she will have family complete- more complete than before sibling. This creates greater bond between step-mom and step-daughter: the little child with the common gene.

Do i erase the photos on my computer, get rid of the baby book I still have? Do I delete the stories and burn the files? Do i stop talking about her? stop remembering? pretend that julian looks nothing like her? pretend he does not act like her sometimes; even laugh the way she did/does/doesn't anymore.

Do i still stand a chance? How do you go back after so long? How do you make amends and face the inevitable criticism and cruel look? such things have always been my greatest fear.

will I always be such a coward?

why is it that all i can do is cry? so defeatist. disgraceful.

cry cry cry

why have i convinced myself that this is best when i wish more than anything my own absent parent hadnt done the same? y have i turned out like him, as far as she goes?

why did you have to make it so hard for me to overcome- so easy to slip away from? why was it so easy to slip away from?

......

julian holds my hand when we eat dinner, cross the street, slip into sleep.

sees her old toddler-sized shoes and asks. see her photo in my keychain and asks. randomly...asks. and i have nothing credible to say, nothing that doesnt sound incredibly and unfathomably fake. nothing to say that i am proud of.

i know what this will feel like in years. i also know that what i believe it will feel like is nothing compared to what will actualize.

being a doctor will mean nothing. becoming a better person will mean nothing the way that I used to rationalize it would. because i see my son, and feel how he holds my hand- everywhere and all the time. I hear how he tells me that he "miss[es] me all the time", how hes "so glad [im] here". all he cares about are the backyardigan books i read 30 times in one sitting and the boo-boo kisses and help with the potty; the birthday wishes and city adventures. and all i care about anymore is that i cook better when he helps and the laundry is only fun if he puts the quarters in. my favorite day is saturday because we make pancakes and play in snow. dr. or mrs., ms. or miss. its the pancakes and the snow, and nothing in between.

i dont know how to be less of a terrible coward. i am grateful that you are so fabulous for her because I am so obviously not. all i can do is cry and beat my chest....this takes absolutely no strength. strength, in such respects, is something i very truly have none of. (I suppose this can also be categorized into character.) it is embarrassing, but also wholly true.

congratulations on the baby.