{"id":2062,"date":"2010-07-06T11:01:19","date_gmt":"2010-07-06T18:01:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/?p=2062"},"modified":"2025-05-23T17:32:43","modified_gmt":"2025-05-23T22:32:43","slug":"running-in-place-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/running-in-place-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Running In Place"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Tom and I went to New York City to visit my brother and sister in law.  It was a great trip- wall to wall adventuring in the big city.  It felt good to feel normal again, even if it was just a few days.  But in between fabulous meals and tours of the city, I would remember.  I would have a nagging feeling that I wasn&#8217;t giving my pain enough attention.  I think it&#8217;d be better if I set an alarm and hid myself out of the way and cried for fifteen minutes three times a day.  <\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>When I&#8217;m in the middle of some awesome adventure I think- I shouldn&#8217;t be able to do this.  I should be groaning with pregnancy and waddling around.  Seeing the bright laughter in small childrens&#8217; faces makes me smile for a moment before I catch a lump of tears growing in my throat.  I see Tommy in all those soft faces and exploring eyes.  I wonder what he&#8217;d look like now if he were still in the NICU.  Would his skin be turning baby-pink, would he be breathing on his own, would he be feeding on my breast milk?  Would his little eyes be open, and light up when he saw me?  <\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>Imagining seeing my son with his eyes open makes me feel something I&#8217;ve never felt before: utterly hopeless.  It&#8217;s like my pain has enveloped me completely, and squeezed out the youthful thrill of life that made me like myself.  Now I&#8217;m just some person I have to drag around everywhere I go.  I show up at my brother and sister-in-law&#8217;s apartment in New york and want to say- &#8220;I&#8217;m here!  But I brought this awful person too, and she has to be with us the whole time.  She won&#8217;t say very much, she&#8217;ll just oppress us with her presence.&#8221;  I know I&#8217;m good at tucking that person away, and I know that I can still access the other me sometimes.  But I can feel her tugging at my sleeve throughout the day. <\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>I think back on the hopeful girl who took a stand up comedy class and fretted about not being able to take another because my due date would be too near.  That&#8217;s the girl I liked.  That&#8217;s the girl who is Tommy Jr&#8217;s mommy.  But maybe she died when he died.  Maybe all that&#8217;s left is a sad, hopeless person who is going through the motions of life because everyone says things will get better if you keep moving. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Tom and I went to New York City to visit my brother and sister in law. It was a great trip- wall to wall adventuring in the big city. It felt good to feel normal again, even if it was just a few days. But in between fabulous meals and tours of the city, I &hellip; <a href=\"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/running-in-place-2\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Running In Place&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2062","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2062","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2062"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2062\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3516,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2062\/revisions\/3516"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2062"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2062"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2062"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}