No crying in baseball

I’ve had a really hard time bringing myself to these pages- mainly because I spend most of my time in bed, nursing, burping or comforting my new baby Phoenix. He’s 6 days old today! What a blessing. Maybe tomorrow we must celebrate his 1 week birthmarker! Today we’ll go see his paternal grandparents – who are too old to make a journey to us on their own.It will be his first outing, not counting the children’s hospital ER visit 2 nights ago. Paranoid mom already at the ER “to be on the safe side.”
I want to be sure to do an entry every day, because there are things I want to remember, and secrets I want to whisper, and no one I can really tell them STRAIGHT to. Straight, pure, unadulterated darkness and sparks of light.
I need a sacred space, where I can be free to speak plainly, and whisper things like, I cried again for an hour last night, after he became upset that – woke him to burp and change the baby. I’d been waiting and hoping for some real sleep for a couple days, and instead of relief was given a “slap on the hand,” and then a command to not cry. It’s like when parenys tell kids “stop crying or I’ll give u something to cry about!” That always made me cry more! I was commanded to ignore how I felt, or I would be punished and be made to feel worse. This is a disease of my culture. Don’t cry, pussy. You fucking wimp.