A week later,
I think I have gone through all the stages of grief because of just one child.
The first is denial, time and time again I woke up halfway into the night because of her cries telling myself it was all a bad dream. I didn't have a baby. I never took someone's baby or agreed to help someone hold her baby.
But the cries keep getting louder.
And sooner than later It was brought to reality I indeed had a child with me in my house.
The second is anger, in all honesty, if not for the moon goddess at some point I would have thrown the baby out through the window.
I got triggered by a cartoon we were watching together once. I think Mowgli was the name.
It's like the cartoon reads my mind.
With so many thoughts, I opened the fridge staring at the empty feeding bottles.
I lost my train of thought at some point and forgot what I was doing in the kitchen.
