congested

i hold truths in my mouth as if storing them for later. some of them trickle out and some of them get stuck in the cavities between cheek and gum. my three year old takes bites of food and then hides the food in her cheeks thinking we won't know it is there. i get upset because i'm worried she's going to choke and also because i don't want her to hold onto all of the things she doesn't want. i want her to spit them out. rinse away the remnants and smile freely. and wide. perhaps she sees my little truths, half hidden behind polite smiles and cloudy eyes and is merely reflecting them back to me.

i'm all wrapped up in myself these past few weeks. i'm sick again. so congested i can't breathe. at all. and then i feel like i'm about to be buried alive and i start to panic so i have to sit up and walk around the house to distract myself. i feel like i'm failing finn because i promise her i will take her to the store but then i don't even have the energy to get off the couch unless i'm going to throw up. bryan says i need to be nicer to myself. that pregnancy and i do not really get along and i have to ride it out.

i am missing deadlines for rsvp-ing, letting the remnants of neglect sit in the shower grout. i wear a uniform at home and just noticed that my hair is in a sad state these days. so many things in my life need some love and i am pushing them to the back burners and running out of pans.

i would like a vacation, a manicure, a massage, a spa day, a windfall, a swim in the warm ocean. i would like to pretend that any one of these things will make me feel like my young self again, full of promise and the absolute conviction that tomorrow will somehow feel better. that the best is yet to come. i want to stop feeling like i am fighting my body at all times. i would like to feel grateful more often than i feel like throwing up or giving in.

i had to leave work early today. bryan took finn to the park and when they came home, she handed me a bag. inside were breath right strips (the one thing i haven't tried yet to be able to breathe) and she sat with me while i put it on. thirty seconds later, she walked up to me, placed both hands on my cheeks and said do you feel better now, mommy? can you breathe better? can i have some juice?

we read a story together before bed and she sat next to me, her hand on my leg. at one point, i looked down at her and she looked up and smiled. patted my leg.
does your body feel better, mommy?

and i said yes.
because my heart has never felt better.