Break Down

In the humdrum of this new life, I live like an automaton sometimes. I go through the motions as if I have been programmed to do it over and over again. Some days I find myself thinking, doing, the very same thing I used to think, I used to do. As if my life had not changed. It's almost as if I never carried another human being in me at all.

Almost.

Yet all it takes is a sight of the stack of pregnancy books in the closet, a favorite ultrasound photo, a lighted candle by a wood-carved urn and it comes back to me a hundredfold. The life that I was supposed to have, not this one, but the one where I am a mother to a living child.

The one where I should be worrying about vaccines, infant illness and other things. Important things. Things that matter to the welfare of my child. The wonder, the excitement, the anxieties of what is to come. The dreams and the challenges of a life with a growing son.

And during these times of unbidden trip to what-should-have-beens, the tears would flow. Relentless and pitiful. But like an automaton, I continue to do. I continue to function. The damn tears continue with me. My heart breaking down all over again.

Oh my son, you should be here with me in the land of the living, not in that land of what-should-have-beens.