Tonight I am writing about an old wound. Resently my Great Grandson was taken to the hosiptal. He is only 5 months old. Very long night for me. This event triggered something very long ago in my past. When I was six years old, my mother went into labor and sent me for the midwife. The neighbor's kids scared me as they always blocked my way and made fun of me.Big hurtle had to get passed them to save Mom. I just stood and cried when they wouldn't let me pass. Their mother came out and I told her what was happening, she then helped me to get the midwife. I felt like this little Baby became mine. My sister Barbara Jean. I helped my oldest brother Fred bury the afterbirth. I loved this baby so much. She only lived 18 months. When she died I felt pain like I had never felt, that was the first time can remember I wanted anything to take the pain away.That is also when I decided that loving comlpetly was to painful to ever invest in again. When we went to her funeral I kissed her liitle head in the coffin. also sometihing I will never forget.
The healing of this story is with time ( we do recover and though it may take almost a lifetime) we do get to see that wounds heal and it is safe to love totally again.
