[T]he story may be happy or sad–there is a sadness in deep love, a sadness at the center of joy because love, like birth and death, breaks open the heart, breaks open the dream of beauty to reveal some other beauty, bigger and wilder and more precious than we knew. These love stories are not about “love at first sight” or “happily ever after.” They are layered tales of grief and patience, courage, strength, and transformation. – J. Ruth Gendler
In my blogs I can see that I’m seeking sustenance in the new-found tedium of mothering at home. My stamina remains weak. I can recall, it or sense it from my writing. I didn’t know how to be apart from him. In reviewing these records and untangling these knots I understand something newly. I wasn’t being loved. My partner had his reasons and reactions to me, but one thing is sure, I wasn’t being shown love in languages that I could hear or understand. I was miserable. I accepted my misery as normal.
I am four months old! I am the drooliest baby. I’m already getting teeth! I like to squeal and squeak. My mama bought me a swing and I love to nap there. I like tummy time more, but rolling over is easier. I chew on all the things. My mama takes me outside for walks every day and lets me listen to music in the yard while she gardens. The dogs are my favorite people besides my mama and papa. I love my grandma too. She comes to visit and hugs me and plays with me and brings me lots of toys to chew and pull on. I love the pig that plays music that she brought me. I’m getting to be a pretty decent sleeper too, Mama says. She wants me to sleep in my crib soon.