Maybe this time it's different

We've been married four years ago today, and I was right, it was better than 3 in every way! I feel part of me resisting accepting the reality that we couldn't be together last night because we were too exhausted after having to woo sweet Sparrow to sleep (on the living room floor, so it's not like our standards are super high) and getting up at 7 to search for Chai's bottle because the little Lord wouldn't accept the smaller one.  When I think of all the babies that have crashed into our lives in such a short time, I am amazed that we have done as well as we have, that we ever think to drop kisses on each other's faces or snuggle forward or back. When we climbed back in bed this morning after convincing Chai to take the smaller bottle, we talked for two hours about this icy dark tragedy. I told him I'm afraid of what could happen to us. I think four years ago Jon would have earnestly promised me that he'd never go, now he says, we never know what will happen, but that he has hope because we talk and are willing to feel our emotions. The understanding and fevered insight we've held through this whole ordeal is a warm and kindly hand in the abyss. I worry for my friend, that she will be confused and hurt. I still feel angry for the deception, possibly the continued deception. Such destruction for two families. It terrifies me. It seems like such a brutal coming of age, so different from the soft autumn folklore I was introduced to. I can't remember our beginnings without remembering all of them, no matter how rotted and explicitly disappointing it became. Jon arranged for the Stranges to watch the kids while we went to Happy Sumo. I felt so light while we were there. I kept looking at him and thinking, he likes me, he chose me, I've had his babies/I'm carrying his child. When I can stay with it our intimacy feels so amazing. I told him I love him for having a brain that pulls things apart.For some reason, I woke up this morning (27 weeks) feeling one thousand years pregnant. I'm starting to need more support for this heavy bubble, for my fragile birdcage pelvis. It didn't help that I slept for about four hours. I dragged myself through the day just aching for sleep and still managed to feed the kids, read and look at baby pictures with Chai, clean out most of the car and the bathroom counter.  I wish I were more patient with the kids. I hover between being loving and screaming lately. Sometimes I connect so hard with my gorgeous, bright boy, and he will tell me he loves me and other times I can't handle the "why" for everything I ever say. Sometimes I can't get enough of Sparrow's blue-eyed stampeding and her wanting to always lay close, pat my chest, cradle her baby. I take them to the park and affirm and narrate. Other times I just want to lay on the floor and pass out. I want them to go to sleep for hours and just leave me alone. Looking through Chai's baby pictures with him today made me feel two degrees warmer toward the idea of having another baby. "Mom, I have to say why. Because I do."