So, I’ve been getting up late, and I mean late. I mean, like, 11:30 am late. To me, that’s late. I’ll bet some people consider it’s not late until somewhat after the PM mark, but hey, I’m not even that extreme. To me, after 10 am, that’s late. I don’t know why I’ve been doing this. Maybe my body needs more sleep. I go to bed around 12pm, so you would think I could get up naturally around 7 or 8am. I don’t know what’s up. Maybe, as one old friend said, I’m getting old.
In December, specifically on December 3rd, I’m going to be 29 years young. I was told by an old former boyfriend that “we’re all getting old.” I told him it’s how you look at it and how you feel inside. He said, “to some extent.” I told him, that’s just what I believe. He said he was starting to hurt in places he didn’t remember hurting before. As for me, I have pulling around where my C-Section incision was. Yes, I still feel it to this day. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling that sensation. Possibly not, possibly not.
I don’t regret anything that happened in the last year and a half since I discovered I was pregnant and since we had David. It’s a blessing, albeit a difficult one to work with at times, but it has had a favorable resolution, and he will at least be happy and safe. At long last, my baby will have all that he deserves, even if it’s not with me, and I’m happy for it, even if it’s not with me.
This will be David’s first holiday season with his new adoptive family. I hope he has a great time. I hope I get to see some pictures of him dressed for Christmas and sitting with Santa and all the rest. I hope he enjoys his presents and any yummy treats they have for him. I hope he has a blast. That’s all I ever wish for him, to be happy, healthy, smiling, always.