Words

Words save our lives, sometimes.

I finished reading Neil Gaiman's new book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. In the final acknowledgements, he thanked Stephen King for reminding him of the joy of writing every day. I feel like I can relate. In happier times, escaping and creating your own little worlds, your own little reality.. it helps. Now, I can escape into my own feelings and really evaluate them. I can put them to words and really understand how I feel, and why I feel that way. It's helpful, especially when nothing else eases the pain.

Speaking of pain. I had my gall bladder removed yesterday. What a simple process - it was four hours, in and out. I was under general anesthesia (so I was intubated - yuck!) for about ninety minutes. When I awoke, I was sans gall bladder. Everything went fine. I just look like I was stabbed a few times. But the gall bladder rests just below your ribs - they punctured me in three places there, and then pulled it out through an incision in my navel.

Modern medicine is wonderful. It really is. Today, I'm sore. But that's about it.

Amelia spent another night in her toddler bed. I only had to sleep on her floor for about an hour, before sneaking out to my own bed. It's the first night in months that I've shared a bed with *just* my husband. I didn't get kicked in the face, I didn't get farted on. It was pretty darn magical.

Today I feel better about Henry. I think I'm passing the guilt phase. I'm more and more reassured with our decision to not put him on life support. Especially after being intubated myself - I don't want my children experiencing that unless absolutely necessary.

We're planning his memorial service to be on May 28th, next Friday. I think it's going to be at my church, rather than the Arboretum.. it just feels right. As much as I love the Angel of Hope statue (and he will have a brick there!) -- I just feel like a picnic atmosphere isn't right. And it'll be easier to have a structure to the service/open house. Just a few words, a prayer or two, and I'd like to do a balloon release. I'd like people to come prepared to write down their hopes/wishes for my son, and then we'll release them with the balloons. I think I need to look into a permit for that..

Besides, this way we can have coffee and food in the kitchen. And bathrooms. Bathrooms are always a plus.

And my church feels like home. My heart is calm there - not necessarily because of the people. It's just I've associated this particular building with safety and love. I've watched specks of dust floating through streams of light in the stained glass, and felt comforted. I find comfort in the quiet moments. I want to share this comfort, and I want to seek it out again.

I'm going to go have a nap. I forgot how much I needed to sleep after the cesarean. My body is wiped out.