The dog dies at the end.
On a normal day this would make me cry.
But as a very emotional pregnant person this had me bawling like a baby.
#1 because I remembered that my chihuahua, Tilly passed away about 3 years ago.
#2 because I love Labrador Retrievers and realized that I would probably never own one.
And #3 because if I ever did own a labrador retriever they would eventually die and that alone made me sad.
So my days are filled with this emotional turmoil and guilt. I have all this guilt. So I feel guilty because I didn't try hard enough to breast feed my daughter. I've had dreams that I'm breast feeding my son and I wake up sad. So now I can't breast feed my son because that may land me on medication for postpartum depression.
And just now I was looking on amazon.com at one of those scrap booking pregnancy books and I saw those footprints that you get at the hospital when your child is first born and realized that I have no idea where Aixah's foot prints are. Nor do I remember where her first strands of hair are, or her dried-up, extremely gross umbilical cord stump. My cousin has a picture of her daughter's first poop. Why didn't I take a picture of Aixah's first poop and scrap book it? I don't even have an actual pic of her when she was first, first born because in my rush, with my water breaking and all I left my camera at home. And almost no one came to visit me at the hospital besides my husband, my parents and my poor aunt that travelled over two hours and took the Staten Island Ferry on a very rainy day. So I'm this horrible, unorganized, hormonal mother from hell that can't seem to shake this sadness away. I don't want Aixah to grow up with this huge complex because I saved baby #2's footprints and never scrap booked hers, you know.
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