Today is my daughters Birthday. I would most likely be happy. But not today. She is not with me. First let me tell you how I would have woken her up today. The same way I've done for the past 8 years. My daughter was born at 12:03 am on a Monday. I went into labor with 4 days after Ash Wednesday. I didn't know it at the time but maybe that is why I named her Wednesday.

If Wednesday was home I would go into her room at 12:03am and sing happy birthday to her. I would tell her the story on how she was born. I would tell her that it was a rainy day and I went walking for what seemed forever around our block because I knew something was happening inside of me. I would leave out that her father did not want to go walking with me because he was playing playstation. I would tell her that it was a cool day with mist. I would tell her how we went to Target to make sure her brother Zen had enough snacks and a special DVD so he would be entertained when I was in labor. I would tell her that I sneaked in a few bites of a Hawaiian Hamburger when I knew I wasn't suppose to eat anything. I would tell her about the labor, about how I was told as a joke to hit her dad. And I actually did. I wouldn't tell her about how good that felt. I would tell her how the student Doctor didn't believe me that her head was coming out and told me to grunt while he stood with his back against the wall pail as the sheets I didn't pee on. I would tell her that she came out of me so pink and plumb and how I felt when the doctors put her naked chubby body on my chest. I would tell her that she woke up every hour that first day in the hospital to eat and when she cried it sounded like a little squeak. I would end her story with a hug and a kiss and put her back to bed.

Out of all the years that I have been Wednesday's mother this year, her 8th birthday will be the first year I won't be able to do that. I will have to cross my fingers and hope that her dad answers the phone and feels just so to let me talk to her. This is one of the worst and helpless feelings I have felt in a long time.

My Children have not been with me for the past two months. I feel so empty. Everyday is a internal struggle not to lose it. I have a 19th month old and I am 32 weeks pregnant. I have a husband AND I have to be strong enough and calm enough to fly to NV to go to court to fight for my two older children to come home. It hasn't been easy. I can say this much this might be that last time I send my children to visit in another state for Christmas. They may never come back. I know....I know... I'm leaving two months of "What the hell happened". I'll get back to that. For now I have to become queen of denial and mama of Enso my 19th month old energy taker.
So until next time.....