**Originally written beginning of May, 2010
I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to have finished this months ago. I'm supposed to be in the swing of infanthood, balanced with toddlerhood, and a dash of sleep deprivation. I'm supposed to be back to my original weight. I'm supposed to be fast, or at least fastER again. I'm supposed to fit into everything in my closet.
But here I am. Again. I would complain to anyone who would listen while carrying Calla inside that it was THE. LAST. TIME! No WAY was I doing THIS again! I'd already given away many maternity clothes. I had the rest pegged for consignment or donation, but CERTAINLY not for future wear BY ME.
A ha. Ha ha. Hahahahaha.
As I said, here I am again. I'm not supposed to be here, but I am. What else can I do?
And here's the part that REALLY makes my brain and heart hurt: If Calla was here, neither I, nor the new one inside, would be. Not in this spot. Numero Tre wouldn't be. (Let's not put the cart too far before the horse--3 ain't HERE here, but 3 is here, inside.)
Let's get real about this--I WAS DONE. Finito. Fin. Audi 5000. If Plan A had happened, no Plan B.
But here we are at Plan B--the plan I never thought about, never knew existed. Patched together with Krazyglue and hope and tears, love and fear. How do I wrap my head around this new future, new life?
If she were here, this one wouldn't be. How messed up is that?