I'm drinking wine and writing poetry for the first time in years. Maybe I can compile it, finally. Maybe I will write my book.

I hate that the infinite sadness starts in January. When I should be happily planning Sophia's party (she wants a pink party and she is getting a pink party. I cannot believe she is going to be 3. She is picking out her own parties and decorations and telling me what she wants at her party. She is singing Happy Birthday to herself while pounding the keys of her piano. I am so blessed.) I guess this is the new normal. Like "they" said 4 years ago. A new normal.

My husband doesn't have cancer anymore.

That's the official word from his oncologist. We went to the hospital today and they removed his portacath. Other than check ups, he's done.

I think I'm still stunned by the news. I really expected bad news. The doctor had to tell us 3 or 4 times before we believed him.

I feel like I should have more to say, but it's just not coming tonight. It's been a long day (at the hospital) and some snarky bitches have undone my good mood. Maybe because I'm tired. Maybe because now that Mike's clear I'm an easy target again. Either way, I have been reduced to exhausted tears and worry. I know that part of my mood has to do with my amazing friend being in the hospital because of the nasty flu. I want nothing more right now than to fly to Philadelphia and keep her company. I guess I feel like running away.

I feel like shit today. I want to run away.

Here we go again.

I wonder whose idea it was to tell the world that a new year meant we got to start fresh? It's just a date on a calender.

But maybe I'm feeling extra bitter right now because we're waiting on the results from Mike's CT. Waiting to see if he still has cancer.

Mike and I discussed babies last week. Because yes, people ask me all the time if we're going to have more. When we're going to try. Blah blah blah. Add to that the fact that some people close to us are having more, and are doing it now.. Well, the pressure's on.

So I told Mike that it makes me angry that no one else has to stop and think about their decision. No one else has to wonder if their child's father will be around in 5 years so watch their kids start school. No one else wonders if their baby will even survive to see their birth day. And I know these things make me sound selfish and whiney, and no, I do not wish these things on anyone, ever. But it's not okay that no one seems to understand where we are coming from. It makes me even more lonely. And unsure. And yes, angry.