Well, today started off o.k. Got up fairly easily, went to work. It was so NICE not to have to do “getting ready for meeting” stuff and just be able to WORK.
As the day progressed, I started feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of STUFF I have to do. I could work 50+ hour weeks for the next several weeks, and I’m still not sure I’d be caught up. It just. never. stops. And yes, I’ve put in for overtime for the next month. (Others in my area have similar workloads, so I feel bad complaining. But my feelings are my feelings, and it is my blog, so I guess it’s o.k. to express them.)
Some days are just like this, and there’s nothing you can do but hope for better things the next day. (It’s days like today I wish we played — and won — the lottery, if you get my drift.)
I came home to my beloved husband, which was lovely. (Poor thing had to listen to my Tale of Woe when he made the mistake of calling me when I was still about five miles from home.) Right after dinner something funny happened with the dogs, which we took pictures of. Then I realized that the upgrade I did of my budget software must have a bug in it — or I did something REALLY stupid in my data entry. Either way, my budget is now all screwed up, and I’ve lost the will to post the Funny Dog Story. Maybe tomorrow.
And I’m sad (perhaps I should have started with this), because Tristan, another T-18 baby, died yesterday. He was born on Dec. 3, 2007 and had been doing so well, relatively speaking. I thank God for the 56 incredible days he had with his family… so many T-18 babies live for just a few hours, if they’re born alive. Since Poppy Joy was born on Dec. 1, there are two additional Trisomy-18 babies our little corner of the Internet has been following via their parents’ blogs. Mary Grace lived for 7 hours. Maddox lived for just a few seconds.
Each of these babies is such a gift, and their parents are grateful for every second they had with their precious sons or daughters. But think about it. We’ve talked about “how long” Tristan lived. He would have been eight weeks old today. Their son’s “long” life didn’t get him to his two-month birthday.
Makes my crappy day at work (and the uncertainty of what tomorrow — or any other day will bring) seem rather unimportant, doesn’t it?