Th other night I had a feeling I wouldn't fall asleep, and Dan had started snoring, so I got up and took an Ambien. As soon as I started nodding off, Felix woke up crying. He wouldn't be comforted by Dan, so I went in, and he still wouldn't calm down. So we took him into our bed. He didn't squirm around as much as he has in the past, but we have a queen and he's getting to be a big boy, so I only half slept while squeezing my body toward my side of the bed.

He's been our sweet sensitive boy lately. I've been honest with him: he has asked me, "You sad, Mommy?" And I tell him yes, I'm sad a lot, but being with you makes me happy, and it's okay to be sad. I showed him Elise's photo again last Sunday, and he asked "Is baby sleeping?" And I said no, she is dead, that means we can't have her here with us. He just responded with an "Oh..." in a tiny voice, while staring at her picture. The books say not to tell little ones that someone who's died is "sleeping" because that gives the wrong idea and they also might be afraid of falling asleep themselves. I suppose "dead" is a pretty big word for a not-quite-3 year old, but I have confidence that my honesty with him will be a good thing. He is already a wonderful mixture of self-assuredness and emotional sensitivity, and I want him to be able to be open with his loved ones and able to protect himself too.

I'm parenting in the classic Not Gonna Put My Kid Through the Shit I Went Through method: I grew up thinking I was supposed to Be Nice and not talk about yourself or your pain. Now I'm struggling to seek the support I need from the right people, avoid the ones who can't respond--no matter who they are or how close they seemed before Elise died--and take care of myself without worrying what others need from me when I don't have the energy left.

Last night Felix woke up crying twice. He has a very stuffy nose, and I have the flu. I had a massage from Heidi a few days ago and she happened to call this morning. When I told her I was sick, she said the massage is likely helping my body move through all the pain and turmoil, and this sickness is part of that flushing out. I hope she's right, but at any rate those words encourage me, as I lay in bed with my stomach roiling, to believe that we are not suffering for nothing.