Alone

I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark.

A million years ago I started this blog, lying on a bed in the hospital, alone. And so many people after the fact, after Ellie, thought that I handled it marvelously.

A million years ago, I lay in bed awake at night swearing that I would never, ever, do it again.

The nurses said "You'll forget"
Friends said "Oh but you'll try again will"

"But we won't" I knew emphatically.
I told my husband I'd rather die then ever ever do it again.

But people do do it.
People who can't would seize the opportunity, a 10% chance over no chance. The worst that can happen, the very worst, people think is that your baby could die.

But that's not really the worst, is it? The worst, the very worst is that a child is born to early to survive but too late to die. So damaged, in balance, destined to half a life or none at all. Death delayed? Death prayed for?

I think...I think I'm thinking what if my karma's bad?
I think I'm thinking that I really don't mind doing it all over again but I think it's going to feel really - really long.
I think I'm not borrowing trouble but I'd be a fool not to acknowledge that trouble is wrapped in a neat package with my name on it.
I'm not complaining, I'm not scared, I just think I'm....thinking.