funny vulnerability

I drift off to near unconsciousness on a fair few nights and the idea that Wyatt isn't here anymore will sometimes pop on into my head. It makes me so unsettled that I search out the wooden bed frame to give it a good hard knock. I want the boy to have a full wonderful life. The fact that his wellbeing is our responsibility freaks me out.

I don't feel that responsibility for Matt anymore, and I laughed when Louise warned me about the shift from partner to kid. I was seven months preggars, and I told Louise that I would choose to save Matt's life over the sprog's, and she said she used to feel the same way until her kids came along. I laughed.

And now I totally understand.

When I read about the Korean hostages in Afghanistan, I feel for the parents of those killed and held captive. My cynical self says, "Ah yes, but they are Christian missionaries who knew fully well what they were getting into," but my realistic self says that there is a hole in a parent's life that will never be filled.

I never in a 100 million years thought I would ever become so vulnerable.