I hate convincing myself.

Ya know? Trying to tell yourself how to think, but you always seem to slip up.

I cried so much after Aiden was born, I don't know why. I was crying before too, but that's because I was terrified. Her blood pressure had reached 191/109 when I left the room. My mother, who was texting me the whole time, wisely didn't tell me that it's highest point was 242 over something. I wouldn't have been able to handle that. But, no c-section. She pushed him out all on her own. And I saw it. It was disgusting, but strangely beautiful. Not something I personally would ever want to go through, but she made it look easy. There were no screams of pain, and she only voiced that she couldn't do it once, that I heard. Even thinking about it makes my eyes start to prickle again. I hated seeing her in so much pain, and, for a second, I hated that poor helpless baby for doing it to her. I quickly got over it when I saw him squeeze his way out. Then Des and I hugged and cried, I continued to cry, and cry. After he was all cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, Grandma brought him to me, and held him out to me. I took him, and (through sobbing) said "You're giving him to me?" Her reply was something along the lines of "Haven't you been there for her with everything?" I took him, and tears fell all over that perfect little face. I was a wreck. And even after all that work, she still looked gorgeous, and I'm going to cry again.

Goodnight.