It was all there....in black & white

Yesterday I was looking through Blaine's baby book. I came across it while looking for a yearbook to settle an argument I was having with myself.

Flipping through the pages filled me with all sorts of conflicted feelings....because Blaine's baby book is not just a document of her first years, its a written account of my descent into mental darkness. It starts off wonderfully enough, recounting her perfectness and our awe at her every achievement, full of flourishing joy and noticably anal attention to detail....then, as the months pass, the handwriting visibly changes, the content weakens and entries become sporadic...dropping off in the tenth month, until it just ends. I never finished. It was as if I didn't care.

Some people may read this and think that I was just a busy or unorganized new mother, but that, sadly, is not the case.

I really don't remember very much about those days. Its all clouded in my mind. My memories are vague and hazy.

Looking through the book filled me with deep regret and a burning sense of guilt. I broke down, weeping.... How could I not have seen it at the time? It was SO obvious in those pages, how fucked up I was.

I am neither a religious person, nor a superstitiuos one. But I must believe in some kind of serendipidy...kismet...karma, if you will....because I MUST have done something right at some point in my life, to ensure that Blaine wouldn't suffer for my neglect. By all accounts, she is healthy, happy and well adjusted.

I am fortunate to have in my life, people who shielded her from my illness. A wonderful attentive father in Hubs, and caring, loving support in my parents, as well as his.

I stopped crying...wiping my nose on my sleeve...I wasn't sad anymore. I was thankful...for all those who loved Blaine so much when I couldn't.