Vulnerable

Chas and I have received news that two members of our family are losing their battles with cancer. His great-aunt (who is actually only 60 years old--she's the youngest of four sisters) has been sent to hospice. On my side of the family, the chemo treatments for my brother's girlfriend of five years have not been successful. The doctors have not given up yet, but my brother is feeling very discouraged. I am still hopeful, but then I tend to have unrealistic hope in the face of the impossible.

We actually just received the news that his great aunt has passed.

I wish there was something I could do, but I am powerless to do anything other than try to be supportive.

And I had forgotten how vulnerable a newborn makes me feel. Even my large hatchling seems so small. I lost a nephew to SIDS eight years ago. I guess that adds to my vulnerability around my newborn. I remember seeing a meme floating around that asked (among many other questions) if you had ever been broken hearted longer than you were in love. Losing Lucas after having him in our lives for a little more than three months falls into that category.

With Angie, I was always checking to reassure myself that she was still breathing. It doesn't mean that I don't treasure and enjoy every moment I have with my children, just that Lucas is always in the back of my mind. My brother Jay told me that a person doesn't know the meaning of worry until he or she has children.

Kian is so beautiful. He has deep blue grey eyes and he hasn't lost much of his chubbiness yet. His hair was lighter than Angie's at birth and it is becoming lighter every day. Angie has been a little crabby at the division of attention, but she loves him and will give him kisses before she goes to classes at Gymboree. At the moment she is attempting to comfort him, while Chas prepares dinner and I type a post for the first time in ages.