Lots of memories in my life are fuzzy.
How I got the scar under my chin.
The time I woke up in an RV outside a Bass Pro Shop.
The George Clinton concert I went to in college.
But, I distinctly remember pushing Gigi out.
Maybe it was the lack of drugs or the post labor hemorrhoids…that I’m still recovering from.
*shifts uncomfortably in chair*
Or, the fact that my entire vaginal canal has PTSD and contracts and whimpers whenever I watch those When Animals Attack shows. Specifically episodes with sharks.
Saturday was the anniversary, not only of the day she was born, but of the day we became a whole family.
Every role is as it should be.
Jude, the strong older brother.
Wyatt, the middle child and adventurer.
And Gigi, the baby.
We could never have another. Mostly because we know if we did, she’d suffocate them with a pillow and eat their remains like some kind of adorable cannibal.
Happy Birthday my darling little cannibal.