I think I’m failing Kindergarten. My pre-parenthood M.O. was to avoid the stuff that overwhelmed me. Especially school. Because math.
I’m sorry my body failed you. Protecting my children is a most fundamental desire—but we had to keep me healthy so that I could be there to see you grow up.
We may have been safe, but we were not unscathed. I felt the potential catastrophes around each corner. And in the shadows lurked the great What Ifs. The Could Have Beens packed themselves into each crack of my surface.
Somewhere, at some point, a woman sat connected to a pump and had gotten more than her baby could eat. Her lactation donation helped my preemie.
I haven’t slept for more than three straight hours in eight months. I’m being held together through sheer force of will, caffeine, and napping in toilet stalls.