I don’t know if it’s the terrible tragedy that occurred here, that I wrote about in my last post, or if it is Nat’s imminent move-out, but I feel like I was hit by a ton of bricks. I could not exercise, I could barely meet my good friend for a walk. It is a painfully beautiful day, but I spent about an hour crying. I was thinking about Nat. I am sorry to be so emo about it, but it is just huge to me. This is not about my having doubts. This is about the separation, pure and simple. <\/p>\n
It has been a year of looking at little babies and swooning with motherlust. A year of joyful teaching of little girls and getting to know them, pouts and all. A year of watching my Max become a man, full of healthy skepticism, rebelliousness, and contempt for us, his parents. At the same time, he is still my Little, Little, with wide blue eyes and an all-knowing smile. <\/p>\n
And I have experienced Benji becoming a more empathic, sweet and thoughtful person. He actually said to me today, “I am happy today.” <\/p>\n
So even though I was burdened by my own depression, I could smile in sweet relief at those words, and at all the things going on in my life. I look at Natty, my Natty, my firstborn, and I want him back. I want those days when he was a baby, and I want to enjoy them this time. I want, I want, I want. But I can’t have. I have to work on pushing him out of the nest, I who once dreamt of constructing a nest of iron and ten-foot walls, with nothing but the softest pillows inside… <\/p>\n
Okay, okay, I’m letting my ultra-sticky morose meanderings drip all over you all. Please forgive. This is how it’s going to be for awhile, while I step around yet another Big Thing in the path.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I don’t know if it’s the terrible tragedy that occurred here, that I wrote about in my last post, or if it is Nat’s imminent move-out, but I feel like I was hit by a ton of bricks. I could not exercise, I could barely meet my good friend for a walk. It is a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-525","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pSTth-8t","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/525","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=525"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/525\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=525"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=525"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=525"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}