Penthouse at the Asylum

My Crazy Little World

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Happy Birthday Baby P
Baby P -

You would have been two years old today. I am honestly shocked that it still hurts this bad. That I still miss you, someone I never met, so much. But I do, with every fiber of my being. I did the ususal, pulled out your sisters baby-book and looked at photos of her at two. I tried to focus on her sweet little hands; the baby-fine fly away hair; chubby arms and legs; the toddler belly still full and round. I tried to focus, but my eyes were so glazed over with tears that I couldn't. And then I remembered that her second birthday was the first one that was recorded. So to punish myself further, I put in the DVD and watched. I saw the same things in the photos, but I also heard the sweet voice, saw the curiousity, witnessed the excitement of the day. And I found myself mourning for both of you. I miss you. You who never got to be. And I miss the baby that your sister was. I didn't have work today (home recovering from surgery), so I was home all day torturing myself with this guilt and grief. Your dad didn't mention what today was, not straight out. He called several times throughout the day for nothing. Just wanted to know what I was up to, and I lied to him so I wouldn't bring him down. Told him I was just putzing around cleaning or laying in the sun, or napping from the pain medication. He told me later that night, after work "I don't want you to think I forgot about today. I just don't know what to say to you, because I can't make it better." That was enough. I knew his frequent phone calls throughout the day was him checking on me to make sure I was, at the very least, capable of answering the phone. But I will admit, I never thought I'd be happy to have had surgery, but having a stockpile of some major painkillers helped. I spent a lot of the day high. Does it get easier? Will I ever let myself off the hook? I love you baby, and I am still so sorry that I failed you.



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