What am I thinking?

Am I nuts to be statring a blog? I am a mom with a 21 month old (as of yesterday) who may have enough energy to solve the world's energy crisis (if only we could harness all his potential). The boy doesn't sleep very much at all and napping is a completely foreign concept to him. Mommy on the other hand wishes she had napped more when she had the chance. I was always too worried to nap, especially while in college, because of the few times I did (mostly in winter when darkness seemed continual) I would wake in a panic not knowing what day it was or even if it was AM or PM. I was just sure I slept too long and missed some life-altering exam and was therefore destinted to wander the earth with no real profession.

Yes, my name is Kerry and I am a little high-strung. My husband likes to blame me for our son's apparent disposition: Wound really tight with a temper exponentially larger than his body mass. He is so zesty and fun though (and I can say this now, as it is midnight and he is finally sleeping; in bed with daddy of course). Here is my little firecracker:

"Wow, what a bad mother you must be to have such an unhappy child", is what you are thinking, right? This is Quinn, mad at mom and dad because we are making him leave the playground after an extended period of fun and frolick. He didn't want to say "bye bye" to the playground, this time or any other. Bad mother? Maybe, but we can live at the playground because momma loves indoor plumbing and all the benefits that come with it. I love my angry boy!





I should probably apologize now because if you have made it this far you will realize that my mind tends to jump around quite a bit and I have a hard time focusing my thoughts. I make no promises of prose which flows like water- my mind just doesn't work like that. I swear I think I must have adult ADD, and social anxiety, and regular anxiety. I don't want to take any drugs though, because if you have seem those commercials for such curative products, you will know that the side effects seem worse than the disorder itself. Yes. I want explosive diarrhea and excessive sweating. That will surely help me feel more comfortable in social settings. I could really be myself then.

I will confess that I am partially starting this blog to help keep my mind off current events in my life. I don't know if I am PG??? I won't know for a few more days and it is driving me even more insane. I want to be PG more than anything else in the world (so much so that it is probably a sin). It occupies my every thought, all day long. I wasn't always like this. Quinn was a honeymoon baby so I didn't have to obsess about wanting to get PG. NOW. I was so fortunate. Not anymore.

We lost a baby girl in February, and it almost broke me past the point of repair. Sometimes I wonder if it didn't. I think about *her* all the time. It is hard to lose a baby in our society (and others as well I am sure). People don't know how to react or act around you. Most people are really wonderful and say how sorry they are and that helps heal. It is those people who are not close friends, maybe not really even aquaintances that have been the worst. Saying things like, "Don't worry, you can try again", and the ever so popular, "It wasn't meant to be". Why don't you just cut out what is left of my heart? Or don't you think I even have one. You will also never notice more PG people out in public than after you have lost a baby. You think they are somehow out to taunt you even though they don't know you or know what has happened to you. Your mind tells you crazy things. But then when you are at your lowest point you can read the words sent to you by your dear friend's mother; a woman who has suffered much more than you have (you don't even feel like you should be able to feel sorry for yourself), lost several babies, and a grown son. She said exactly what you needed to hear, what you felt, what you couldn't express verbally to anyone else, and for that gift you are eternally greatful. I hope that the gift of another child won't elude us for too long.

This makes me think of my favorite quote in all of the world:

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

--From Merchant of Venice (IV, I, (184-186)
Shakespeare

Okay, I should probably go to sleep before anyone decides I should be committed.