Dear Diary

Isn’t it amazing how your mood can change so dramatically in the course of one day?

If I would have posted yesterday, according to my emotional state, it would have been a far different entry than the tone of that same post’s content today.

Yesterday was more like this…

and it was not pretty.  My mood could have best been described as stormy.

I was emotionally all over the place.  I was ready to type and hit “publish” with a firm slam of my index finger.   I am glad that I didn’t.

There’s a lot that a person might want to say, but shouldn’t, when they are living on 10 hours of sleep in three days.  Everything feels more serious when your brain doesn’t have the chance it needs to defrag over the course of a good night’s sleep.

Corrigan is the force that makes me want to live forever, because I have to, yet he is also the very thing taking years off of my life with the things that I still do not think I should talk about without the perspective another day might bring.

For now I will just say this…I am exhausted. In every aspect of my life I am tired. This blog is not a bare-all journal for every single thing that is happening inside the building that houses this computer.  This blog was not intended to be my virtual “Dear Diary” but neither was it also intended to be only about Corrigan’s Citrullinemia.  I have very few things in my life that make me feel like I am doing an okay job at this “being a grown-up” thing.  I choose to make this a place that I can look back on in ten years and feel like it was all pretty good.  Trust me, I am not going to forget the bad times.  I do not need to put them here. However, I do realize that the bad times, in regards to Corrigan, can be helpful to other people with a child in the same situation.

Or is that just a bunch of pretentious crap?

Corrigan is the most amazing gift but he is a lot of work. He is a two year old boy withextra stuff going on.  The terrible-twos and all of the other stuff.  I do not know how much of the uglier parts I should share here. Do I want to look back and see those entries peppering the prettier ones that I try so hard to archive? I won’t have forgotten them, those harder moments,  but will posting them here help someone else?

Will it help me in the long run to get it out of my head and into a diary. A virtual one, at least?

Anyway, today I woke with a deliberate decision to smile even when I didn’t feel like it.  And it was hard, at first.  My smiles were kind of like this..

Hey, it was an effort. You fake it ’til you make it, I’m told.

The neat thing was that the more I smiled, the more I stayed calm and the more that I tried to be more positive,the more that I got that same stuff from Corrigan in return.

Yeah, he has to wear that stupid feeding pump backpack again-he now has to be pumped every 3 hours because he has stopped eating and drinking by mouth, getting nutrition through a stupid tube because of a stupid genetic disorder that has robbed him of his appetite, his sleep and, to be blunt, some of his intellect but we are smiling anyway.

Eventually the real smiles came easy…

I think we both feel better now.

I love you Corrigan.

3 thoughts on “Dear Diary

  1. I could not understand why his backpack straps were tied together in front until Thanksgiving day when my smart DH did that to our daughters backpack to keep hers from sliding off her shoulders.

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    • yep! If I do not tie them they slide and it didn’t take long for him to realize that he could wiggle it down. Now, months later he will just reach up and swipe the straps off of his shoulder too so tying them is really important.

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