Perforation Problems

 My baby is sleeping sideways in his crib, his head almost touching the bars. I'm watching him on the video monitor on my phone, partly because I'm worried he's going to wake up and end my "free time" and partly because he thrashes his head in his sleep sometimes, so I'm worried he's going to whack it on the crib bars. I don't know what I think watching on the camera will do to prevent this.  I knew having a baby would mean worrying all the time, so that's not a surprise. Really what's surprising to me is how much all of this parenthood stuff is not a surprise. I suppose I did my research? I suppose I paid attention to my friends and my sisters-in-law and all the other people around me who had baby after baby while we weren't—while we were traveling to Greece and Belize and New Zealand and Croatia. Or maybe I just got used to the worrying while we were losing baby after baby, pregnancy after pregnancy. Sometimes I feel like I've been ...

My therapist has a little shih tzu. Sometimes he wears little sweaters, festive ones for Halloween and Christmas. He's what my dad would call a "little yip yip dog," with a short poofy tail that stands straight up and an old man dog moustache that takes over most of his face.  Like most reasonable humans, I imagine, I always try to get the dog to sit next to me on the couch and let me pet him while I'm sobbing to my therapist about whatever anxiety has taken me over at the moment—but he's never interested. After a few ear scritches he goes over to stare at his treats on the bookshelf and finally gives up and goes to sleep on the extra chair.  I picked my therapist mostly because she had a dog listed as a team member on her website, actually. It seemed like just as good a reason as any. Choosing a therapist—choosing any doctor, really—might as well be a random stab in the dark.  Reviews, of which there are typically only 4 or 5, are usually only people complaining...

Sometimes both my pregnancies seem like they didn’t happen, Or like something I read in a book. Something that happened to someone else That I experienced only vicariously Not viscerally It’s like I’m wounded and bleeding But I’ve been drugged And I don’t notice the blood pooling beneath me Except maybe a little tingle several layers down Under my skin And sometimes I'm melodramatic like a goth teenager: Nothing matters Nothing good will happen Nothing is worth doing  Nothing can lift me back out of this And into the sun  I’m forever cracked and broken and numb Bleeding Forget about it.  I’m not here for this, these tragedies These heartbreaks—such a cliche word, but Really, it’s like my heart is physically Broken in pieces. My chest hurts— I’m not doing it. Just cut it out.  Isn’t it funny That you can can still laugh While feeling this way? Sometimes I close my eyes and force myself To own it To picture Ru...

I love Tootsie Rolls I can’t get enough of them The way the wrapper twists open To reveal that perfect, chewy log Of chocolate chewiness (The chocolate flavor that, Let’s admit it, Isn’t really chocolate But something else entirely - Chewy chocolate, sugary chocolate, Tootsie Roll chocolate, who even knows?) I hold it between my back teeth Nestled against my cheek And the side of my tongue And I chew until the chocolatenotchocolate Coats my mouth And I have to work to get it off my teeth A tangible, sticky comfort “Those are gross,” Other people tell me But I could eat them over And over, nonstop My grandma used to have a bowl Of Tootsie Rolls at the lakehouse And more in her  Giant, cavernous purse Or in the console of her car, Or in a jar under her television (For my great-grandma it was Hershey kisses Tucked away in the cabinet) When Grandma died I remember Writing thank you cards for funeral  flowers at her k...

There’s a way that doctors tell you bad news Slowly, enunciating each word To make sure there can be no Misunderstanding There’s a moment of silence before A long, interminable moment As they look at you and clear their throats Or move the ultrasound wand Silence, where they can’t quite meet your eyes While your stomach eats itself While the hurt starts to build in your veins You’re being sliced open, slowly and silently The knife cutting through each layer of skin One by one (Later you’ll curl up on your pillow and Say in your head, over and over and over “I just want to die. I just want to die.”) The words they say end up chiseled In your memories Along with their expressions The first couldn’t bring herself to say “You’re going to lose your babies” She just kept telling me What they couldn’t do What was going to go wrong She made me say it for her “So I’m going to lose them?” She was so sad for me So sad before I could even register How sad I shoul...

This morning I woke up to silence And sunlight breaking through the Cracks between the windows and The blinds You and our dog still sleeping I lay there for some reason thinking About the night we got engaged It bothered me that I couldn’t remember Exactly what you said to me I know we had just gotten back to My apartment after carving pumpkins At my mom’s house I know I’d had a pretty strong idea What was coming I remember you on your knees Your voice shaking And me thinking to myself That I’d never actually seen you nervous I remember wrapping my arms around Your neck as you knelt there on the floor Leaning into your lap until you toppled over And saying, “Of course.” Of course I’ll marry you. It was never really a question It just suddenly came to be Even before it was I also remember laying in bed the morning after Listening to you call your parents to tell them the news I was lying on my stomach smiling Into my pillow Somehow hearing you tell th...