Landslides

Two really kind friends and neighbors shared their talents with me yesterday and today. One is a masseuse, one an accupuncturist.

I saw a woman, an old school Park Slope Hippie type, leaving her exercise class where Mahalia takes a dance class. She was cooing and singing to Dezi. I don't know why but I started talking to her about his surgery and his hernia. While I was talking I was thinking about how at the time of his discharge from Columbia I wanted so much to forget about CDH. I never wanted to think about it again. And as I blabbed away to that hippie I was having this whole internal conversation about how much calmer I must be feeling about Desmond's health to be talking so freely about it. I didn't feel like crying or anything. I actually was having feelings of pride, showing him off, looking all strong and normal and healthy.

And then, not 6 hours later, as I laid with those needles in my back, tears dripped out of my eyes. It didn't feel like that kind of hard, gut wrenching crying. It just felt like the release of so much build up, so much trauma and stress leaking out of my eyes.

I thought about little baby Mahalia that died. Her mother told me that her husband hadn't cried at all while they waited for her to pass. When she finally died, the nurses led them to a room to be alone and she said that he vomitted a lot and then cried hard. Some people do it that way, I guess.

I should say thank you to you now if you're reading this post. Thank you for checking in on me and thinking good thoughts for me and Shane and Mahalia and little Dezi. I have such deep feelings of gratitude for all of the kindness that has been displayed to us over the past few months.