Oh Pony, we are in it now. I thought the last bottom tooth was bad, nothing compares to the top one about to cut through. For the past 3 nights you have been up every hour, sometimes every 45 minutes, and you are crying out in pain. I don’t know what to do except go to you and nurse you back down. Then it’s back up the stairs, lay down, you cry out, I wait 5 minutes to see if you’ll go back to sleep, you usually don’t, then I go downstairs, nurse you, wait until you get sleepy again, lay you down, rinse and repeat. All. Night. Long. Right now it’s 2am. Your father is sleeping in a hotel in Portland, Oregon on business. I can’t even imagine what that would be like anymore, to go to sleep at night and know you most likely won’t wake up until morning. I can’t even fathom it at this point. I am totally not resentful at him right now, I swear it.
What is going on right now though is completely my fault, I fear. I don’t know what I was thinking. The cat’s away? I got scared, something about the TV turning off and on while I was watching it earlier this evening- why does this stuff keeping happening to me, and only me? But once again, I romanticized the notion of us co-sleeping, even though we have tried it several times before without any luck- maybe this time it would be different? General definition of insanity is doing the same thing expecting different results. Yes, I do feel crazy. You can probably guess what happened. You woke up at midnight, I brought you into bed with me. It was so awkward. It is physically impossible for you to nurse and sleep with your butt in the air at the same time, although you seem to not think so. My nipple doesn’t stretch that far, thank God. So after those gymnastics I took you back downstairs and proceeded to relay race you back to sleep for a good two hours. Hence, it’s now 2am. My eyes hurt they are so tired and yet, I can’t fall asleep. What kind of cruel joke is this? I decided to pick up my copy of “Under the Banner of Heaven” hoping it would lull me to sleep, but it only seems to make me more anxious. See, it’s a book about fundamentalist Mormons of which your Great Grandmother is one. Your actual great great Grandfather is mentioned in the book and the fundamentalist sect that your Grandma currently belongs to is also mentioned. It’s a strange thing, this Mormon religion. I don’t get it, but then again, I don’t get most religions. And slap fundamentalist before any of them and you’ve got a whole special bag of crazy going on. I wasn’t raised Mormon, I wasn’t raised anything. Except maybe New Age Metaphysics, of which I am also recovering from in my own way. Your Nama Jill left the Church long before I was born. What really freaked me out about it tonight though is how one of the most peculiar things about Mormons in particular is their belief in Revelations. That they can directly communicate with God and know his/her/it’s thoughts, get direction, and so forth. Unfortunately for some, those “directions” have been to kill. It’s not the first religion to condone violence, but it is astonishing how violent people can be in the name of “God.” I always thought God was all loving, all kind, all good. I don’t understand this God they speaketh of. But what irks me even more is that my personal spiritual program, which I owe my incredible life to, also encourages communication with God. It is your own personal God, but it’s still God. Everything is. Or nothing is. It’s a choice, I believe. I want to believe that God is everything. I want to believe. But these people scare me. Make me question everything. Which is probably good and brings me to you, Pony P.
Please remember to always question everything. Be discerning. Be curious. Be aware.
I believe we might have a genetic predisposition for extremism and blind faith. It has only brought me pain and humiliation. I want more for you. I hope the buck stops here, with me. Let me teach you how to think for yourself. Hopefully I can show you as well. I so want to be good for you. Because I have never loved anything like the way I love you. I have never known this kind of force in me. It can do amazing things. You have changed me, Pony. You have made me more me. I am forever grateful. I want to do the same for you, help you to stay true to you, no matter what you do.
It is the next day now. I finally fell asleep last night and so did you. Today we drove to your cousin Nixon’s 1 year birthday party at Bluebird Park in Laguna Beach. The we was your Uncle Strider and I. Your Dad comes back tonight. I can’t tell you how much I have missed him and appreciate his help with you. Just the mere fact that he gets you in the morning giving me sometimes even just 30 more minutes of sleep, I had no idea how precious that was until it was snatched away from me these last two mornings. I am useless. I have never known exhaustion like this. The kind that makes me fall asleep sitting up. And of course, Murphy’s Law, after I nursed you down at 7pm, I promptly laid down myself and passed out…only to be awoken at 8pm by the next door neighbor SANDING SOME FURNITURE outside. ?????!!!! Yes, really.
I give up.
I’m writing to you instead of killing him. I figured that was a much more productive use of my time. Especially since I just spent last night tearfully telling you how “good” I want to be for you. Ha. I guess this is where the something meets the road. I am so tired I can’t even think of the saying. You know what I mean. I hope.
I am hopeless right now.
I miss your Dad.
He better come home tonight.
Please sleep more tonight. Please please please please please please please…..
I love you and your little white butt.