About 6 weeks ago, my darling little daughter began what I am calling a “sleep regression”. She has always been a pretty good night sleeper. From the beginning, she slept 3-4 hour stretches. Those stretches extended to 6-8 hours when she hit 10ish weeks old. Then, around 3 months, all Hell broke loose.

It started when bedtime exploded. We have had a regular bedtime routine from 8 weeks old. It has helped immensely, signaling to her when it is time to wind down and sleep. We would go through our routine, I would nurse her, she would fall asleep, and then I would put her down for the night. The end. But 6 weeks ago, she stopped just falling alseep. It would take me upwards of two hours of rocking, shushing, nursing, swinging, walking, etc., to get her to fall asleep. And then she might only sleep for 15 minutes before waking and beginning the whole thing over again.

And then she stopped sleeping long stretches. Slowly she went from waking twice a night to three times. Then four times. Until she was waking around 10 times a night, not sleeping more than 1 1/2 – 2 hours at a time. It was ridiculous. I was getting no sleep, she was getting no sleep and both of us were frustrated, grouchy, and dreading bedtime every day.

Clearly, something had to change.

I am a fan of Dr. Sears and his Attachment Parenting techniques. This is what we had basically been practicing for the first three months of Babygirl’s life…and it worked very well. She was happy, we were happy, and we had established such a bond and connection with her.

However, it was clear that what we were doing in regards to her sleeping habits was no longer working. And so I started looking to other sources. I went out and bought the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Baby by pediatrician Dr. Weissbluth. In addition to lots of medical information and actual studies on how babies sleep and what is and is not healthy sleep for them, Weissbluth also has a game plan for getting babies on a healthy sleep schedule. His plan, however, is adaptable to your parenting style and what feels comfortable to you.

The first thing we were doing wrong is putting her to bed WAY too late. Weissbluth says that babies my daughter’s age should be going to bed between 5 and 8 p.m., not 10 p.m. like I was doing. He says that contrary to popular belief, an early bedtime doesn’t mean an early wakeup time (this has proven to be true thusfar).

For getting her to sleep at night, we picked the “graduated extinction” method. Which is where, after our bedtime routine, we put Babygirl down for the night whether she happens to be awake or asleep, say goodnight, and leave the room. If she cries, we wait 3 minutes before responding, then we go in and soothe her until she is quiet again. Then we leave. If she cries, we wait 5 minutes and repeat. Then 10 minutes thereafter until she falls asleep. The next night, we start by waiting 5 minutes. Then 10 then 15 thereafter, gradually increasing the time each night.

This felt the most comfortable to me because I want my baby to get better sleep than she had been, but I just couldn’t be spending 2-3 hours trying to GET her to sleep every night, only to have her wake up 10 minutes after I accomplish that. She needed to learn to soothe herself to sleep, but I didn’t want to just set her in her crib and leave her to cry for hours on end without some sort of reassurance from me. I didn’t want her feeling like I’d completely abandoned her.

And so, I am a bad parent because I let my helpless Babygirl cry in her crib for several minutes at a time.

It should be noted that I do NOT agree with just letting your child cry any earlier than we started this. Newborns need to be responded to in order to develop that sense of trust and connection with their parents. But Babygirl was beginning to cry for no reason at bedtime. She was warm (but not too warm), fed, dry and tired. But she would just keep crying. No matter what I did, she would cry. Whether I walked, bounced, swayed, sang or shushed she would still fuss and cry.

So why not let her learn self-soothing techniques while she’s crying? I feel like at that point, I was only handicapping her because I obviously wasn’t helping her feel any better. So I figured why not give this method a shot.

I have two words for you.

It’s working.

She has been sleeping a full 12 hours at night, and has been waking up only twice to eat. When I put her back down in the middle of the night, she goes right back to sleep. She has been able to put herself to sleep more often. And she has finally shifted to taking 2 or 3 long naps during the day instead of a bazillion cat naps.

She is happier during the day and not as tired. And most of all, when I go to get her out of her crib in the morning, she is still the smiley, happy, loving baby that I adore.

This method won’t necessarily work for everyone. This may not be everyone’s style. But for us and our child, it is going great.

I’m proud to be a bad parent.

I was absolutely shocked and appalled. Every single study that I was able to get my hands on (some required me to purchase them, others were too old to be available online) was taken out of context in some way.

No joke. As a journalist, I have a certain standard when it comes to using source material. My number one rule is to NEVER EVER take anything out of context to twist it for your own purposes. Drives me crazy. So here is the results of my findings based on the Dr. Sears article “Science Says: Excessive Crying Could Be Harmful.”

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“Research has shown that infants who are routinely separated from parents in a stressful way have abnormally high levels of the stress hormone cortisol, as well as lower growth hormone levels. These imbalances inhibit the development of nerve tissue in the brain, suppress growth, and depress the immune system”

This particular section listed several studies to confirm it’s statement. I could only find a one.

The first was a study of rat pups done to confirm findings found in regard to Maternal Deprivation Syndrome, a syndrome also known as “nonorganic” failure to thrive. This basically is a result of newborns who are subjected to extreme neglect (whether intentional or unintentional). Last time I checked, Babygirl has definitely not been neglected, nor has has she “failed to thrive.” And I would venture to say that your average parent is neither neglecting their child or dealing with a child who has been diagnosed with Maternal Deprivation Syndrome.

Strike one.

“Researchers at Yale University and Harvard Medical School found that intense stress early in life can alter the brain’s neurotransmitter systems and cause structural and functional changes in regions of the brain similar to those seen in adults with depression”

This study is referring to children suffering from abuse and maltreatment.

Strike two.

“Dr. Bruce Perry’s research at Baylor University may explain this finding. He found when chronic stress over-stimulates an infant’s brain stem (the part of the brain that controls adrenaline release), and the portions of the brain that thrive on physical and emotional input are neglected (such as when a baby is repeatedly left to cry alone), the child will grow up with an over-active adrenaline system. Such a child will display increased aggression, impulsivity, and violence later in life because the brainstem floods the body with adrenaline and other stress hormones at inappropriate and frequent times.”

Again, talking about physical and emotional abuse and neglect. Perry even gives specific examples of feral children and Romanian orphans. Seriously? Not my child. Nor is this even the average child.

Strike three.

“Dr. Allan Schore of the UCLA School of Medicine has demonstrated that the stress hormone cortisol (which floods the brain during intense crying and other stressful events) actually destroys nerve connections in critical portions of an infant’s developing brain… “

Once again, this study is referring to abuse and neglect cases where there is an excessive amount of stressed crying because there needs are never being attended to. This represents neither myself nor the average parent.

Strike four.

“Dr. Rao and colleagues at the National Institutes of Health showed that infants with prolonged crying (but not due to colic) in the first 3 months of life had an average IQ 9 points lower at 5 years of age. They also showed poor fine motor development. “

In this study, the term “prolonged crying” is specified as referring to children with the tendency to continue to cry more than average after 3 months of age. Not infants who are left to cry for a prolonged period. The study postulates that the crying itself is caused by underlying developmental issues, not the other way around.

Strike five.

“Researchers at Pennsylvania State and Arizona State Universities found that infants with excessive crying during the early months showed more difficulty controlling their emotions and became even fussier when parents tried to consol them at 10 months.”

As mentioned previously, this particular study is discussing infants who are predisposed to crying. This one specifically uses the word “colic”. Which, as we all know, is completely different from letting your child cry in order to train them in proper sleeping habits. Not us.

Strike six.

“Animal and human research has shown when separated from parents, infants and children show unstable temperatures, heart arrhythmias, and decreased REM sleep (the stage of sleep that promotes brain development).”

This section listed a few studies as its sources, but I could only access a couple of them.

The first one I looked at specifically studied four preschool-aged children in institutional care. They were separated from their parents as they were being treated for cancer. Of all the studies, this one was the biggest “LOLWUT!?” moment. This obviously does not apply to our situation in any way, nor would this apply to any parent practicing either Cry It Out or a modified method (such as the one we were using).

The other one I was able to access in reference to this section, was one done on rats in which they found that maternal separation resulted in sleep disturbances. However,  they found that “the infant rat’s normal sleep-wake pattern is maintained by the rhythmicity and composition of the milk delivered to it by its mother…” Which is to say, it was the content of the mother’s milk that kept the baby rat from experiencing sleep disturbances. Again. Not applicable.

Strike…wait. I’m losing count.

“Dr. Brazy at Duke University and Ludington-Hoe and colleagues at Case Western University showed in 2 separate studies how prolonged crying in infants causes increased blood pressure in the brain, elevates stress hormones, obstructs blood from draining out of the brain, and decreases oxygenation to the brain. They concluded that caregivers should answer cries swiftly, consistently, and comprehensively.”

This study done on very young infants. While a few of the things could be applicable, the one I would be most concerned about (decreasing oxygen to the brain), was only in the case of infants with respiratory problems. Which Babygirl doesn’t have.

Yup. 

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I was able to look at 9 out of 19 studies listed. Every single one was rendered inapplicable in some way or another. At that point, I wasn’t willing to trust the other 10 studies. I am declaring this article debunked! Even if the other 10 studies somehow, miraculously actually applied to the situation of letting your child Cry It Out, I still say the article is debunked on principle alone.

I am a bad parent because I didn’t follow Dr. Sear’s parenting advice.

I am going to avoid the what I would normally write when it comes to this topic. That being “My husband and my daughter are the best things, money and hectic schedules are the worst.” Because that is boring.

The Best Thing

White noise apps.

The #1 most-used application on my Droid is “Relax and Sleep”, an app that makes wonderful background relaxation noises. Everything from rainfall to chanting monks. But the one that I use at least 3 times a day is simply the “white noise” sound.

You see, my daughter–as wonderful as she is–has a bit of a stubborn streak in her. When she is tired, she pretty much refuses to go to sleep. She will do everything in her power to keep her bright little eyes open. Naturally, when she is tired, she is also extremely fussy. You can tell when she is tired-fussy and not hungry-fussy because her eyes roll back in her head and/or do this weird side-to-side motion like she’s high on on mommy milk. I basically have to force her to go to sleep. The magic wand that I have in my power is white noise. Lay her in her rocker, turn on the noise and BAM. Out like a light. Without that, though, she could fuss for upwards of 30 minutes before finally just zonking almost mid-cry from shear exhaustion. Not fun for da momma.

I also use it all night. She sleeps better with it. She also sleeps in our bed. This has resulted in a strange phenomenon…I’ve become accustomed to it. To the point where I can’t sleep well without it. I’ll probably continue to use it even after she’s been moved to her crib in the other room. Oh well.

The Worst Thing

Baby milestone charts.

I hate those things. There is nothing in the world more likely to send a new mother into a paranoid tailspin as those blasted milestone charts. “Oh, your baby started smiling in response to your face at 4 weeks old? SHE IS A GENIUS. She’s four weeks ahead of schedule!” “Oh wait, but she is three months old and hasn’t started reaching for things yet!? You have a mentally handicapped baby on your hands.”

I will confess. During my whole pregnancy, I was so paranoid about being unprepared that I think I over-prepared. I spent at least 1-2 hours every day combing the internet for every single bit of pregnancy/birthing/baby information I could get my swollen, water-retaining paws on. After Babygirl was born, everytime her face twitched I was consulting God Google for the answer to what had the potential to be a SERIOUS ISSUE. Even my pediatrician was kind of freaked out that I didn’t have any questions for her when we took Babygirl for her first appointment.

“New parents are always wanting to know about every little thing,” she said. “So either you read a lot or you are just the perfect parents.”

I told her I read a lot.

So naturally, I have become obsessive about baby milestones. Since afterall, every article you read on baby development has a very specific time frame for when your baby is supposed to be smiling, laughing, playing, sitting up, walking, sleeping through the night…there is even a certain amount of poopy and wet diapers the baby is supposed to have each day.

For getting her to sleep through the night, everyone told me how wonderful the Babywise method was. Other people suggested Dr. Karp’s Happiest Baby on the Block. Here we are, 3 months later and she still wakes up 2-3 times a night to eat.

I’m supposed to do 15-20 minutes of “tummy time” every day to strengthen her upper body muscles and get her to hold her head up. Every time I tried to do tummy time, she just mashed her face into the ground and wailed like I was ruining her life. So I never did tummy time. And felt horribly guilty for it.

Babies are supposed to start reaching for toys and playing with them by 2-3 months. Well, we are approaching 3 months and as of yet she only likes to look at the toys and make conversation with them. No reaching. For weeks, I obsessed over this. Whyyyy wasn’t she reaching? Was it really so hard to move her hand just a little bit and grab the toy!? It would save me so much stress if she would only do this one simple task. Then I could be reassured that my child isn’t developmentally delayed.

Last week, I got sick of it. I’d had enough. I don’t care if everyone and their grandmother said I was a horrible mother for not doing tummy time. Or that she should be sleeping through the night and I should just let her cry when she wakes up to “teach her to self-soothe”. Or that she obviously is going to ride the short bus to school because she hasn’t shaken a rattle by the time she’s three months old. I’ve decided that my kid is frackin’ brilliant because she can smile and talk to me like nobody’s business. And the way she studies the world around her makes me think she’s going to be the next Aristotle.

I’ve decided that every baby is different and I am banning myself from ever looking at a milestone chart ever again.

…although I still might breathe a sigh of relief the day she finally grabs the toy that I’m holding in front of her face.

Because this is is a “prompt”, I am claiming creative liberty and rephrasing it to suit my whim: “What was your favourite book (or series) as a child?”

And for the sake of clarity, I am classifying “childhood” as “under the age of 13″.

There. Now that we have that bit out of the way.

I loved reading as a kid (I still do. I just don’t have as much time for it anymore). And I liked many, many books. But there is one book series that always stands out in my mind in relation to my childhood.

Nancy Drew

Ah, the girl detective. My hero. With the side-kick cousins and handsome boyfriend. The bad guys always drove a black sedan, Nancy always had a near-death experience and her father always told her to be “more careful next time”, which she never was. She was everything I wanted to be: 18, fearless…and a detective. I would spend hours every day wrapped up in the drama that was her adventurous life. My mother would actually get me in trouble for reading (I know, right!?) because I would neglect my chores in favour of prancing alongside Ms. Drew as she solved mystery after mystery. I think my record was reading five Nancy books in a single day (which isn’t all that hard…but to girl-me, it was a major accomplishment).

As I got older I started to realize a few strange thinsg about the books. First, Nancy was always the same age. She never got older. I even calculated how old she should be based on how long each mystery took to solve. She should have been like…old. That started to bug me. Second, I began to notice that all the stories were the same. You could basically take the same plot and plug in different characters:

Nancy goes on a vacation. She notices something fishy going on. She investigates. Uncovers elaborate plot. Calls in her cousins/father/boyfriend as backup. Gets into trouble with the bad guys (who drive either a black or brown sedan). They tie her up and tell her all about their wicked plot and say something menacing like “You’ll be sorry!” Nancy escapes (or is rescued). Mystery is solved, bad guys are apprehended, THE END.

In short, it started to get boring.

So I moved on to the classics. Charles Dickens. Emily and Charlotte Bronte. And I discovered my intense love for Jane Austen, which abides to this day.

(I make myself sound all scholarly and astute, but trust me. I also like(d) normal books. Like the Chronicles of Narnia, Madeleine L’Engle’s series, anything period romance and anything fantasy)

Considering this is the first time in like…ever…that I’ve posted more than once in the span of two or more weeks, I’m not sure how qualified I am to answer this. I’ve always wanted to be a regular blogger but have never thought I had anything worthy or awesome to say.

Most of the posts on this blog are poems that I’ve written. As far as those go, whenever I write poetry it’s because I have some sort of though, emotion or experience that I need to get out there. I have a hard time writing a poem and just feeling satisfied having written it. I need the poetry to float around in the abyss of the internet in the hopes that some poor soul will stumble upon it and be able to feel or experience what I did. A proverbial letter in the bottle of my blog, floating abroad on the internet ocean. My poems are honestly one of the deepest expressions of myself. I don’t claim to be a Frost, Dickenson or Cummings by any means…but I’d like to think I’m a little bit above the “teen angst” category. I choose words with purpose, I structure with purpose, I punctuate (or not) with purpose. None of my poems are just words. They are feelings and thoughts. And for me to really feel like I’ve done myself justice, I need to put it out there for other people.

As for regular posting…I’ve never done much of that but I’d like to. I’ve been very inspired lately by my dear friend Deanna and the things she writes. I’m a good writer, but she tops me. And there’s nothing like healthy jealousy admiration to kick you in the pants and motivate you to improve. ;D I am doing this prompt-a-day thing to help get me into the habit of posting every day. And when December has come and gone,  I hope that it has become such a part of my routine that I will be able to do it more regularly than I have. Who knows. Maybe I’ll get readers or something! (Or I can just delude myself).

My previous lack of posting was mostly because I never felt like I ever had anything important or interesting to say. Which, honestly, stemmed from a lack of self-esteem on my part. That, and the constant “you’re not good enough” mantra that my mind used to chant over and over to me. But a strange thing happened. I went and met my husband. He has, never once, made me feel anything less than absolutely perfect and amazing. You’d think I was a goddess or something (which I’m obviously not, but he doesn’t seem to realize that. Someone should break the news). Since meeting him, my self-esteem has slowly skyrocketed (yes, I realize that is an oxymoron. Just go with it). I now think that my opinions (my existence, even), not only have worth, but are  important. Because of this, I’ve lately felt the urge to start blogging more and make my voice heard.

In short, writing is what I do. I’ve just had a hard time keeping up a blog. That is going to change in 2012. Stay tuned for Awesome.

Thing #1:

He makes me laugh every day. Both intentionally and unintentionally. I sometimes don’t understand his humour at all (he has a fairly abstract sense of humour a lot of the time), but I still find it funny even thought it has to be explained to me. ;D He is goofy. He is fun. He is silly and wonderful. He is also my best friend and I’m thankful for him everytime he makes me smile.

When I was pregnant, he made me laugh so hard I peed myself.

Thing #2:

I know you just chuckled to yourself. It’s impossible not to. At least a smile? Thought so.

From the faces to the sounds to the looks she gives me, she never fails to make me laugh. I’m a little less grumpy in the morning because I get to look at this shining face first thing. (She has her dad’s chipper-morning-person-ness).

Thing #3:

I don’t know why, but I seriously laugh SO HARD when I read these things. It’s a downward spiral. I see one that I think is pretty hilarious and I start laughing. And then I keep reading them. I’m already laughing and giggling, so they just keep getting funnier and funnier until I’m crying and not breathing from the laughter.

It’s sad.

Thing #4:

If you know where this comes from, you’re my friend forever.

Hyperbole and a Half might be my favouritest thing on the interwebs. I spent two full days reading every single post and laughing my head off. The hubs and I quote her posts to each other often. They are just so hilarious and always make me laugh, even the 7th or 12th time around.

Other things:

My friends, Bill Cosby, Brian Regan, Stephen Colbert, Jim Carrey, awkward situations, blonde jokes, and lots of other things.

Laugh today! It’s good for you.

1. Do drugs

I’m normally a “try it once, live a little” kind of person. But I think drugs are just plain stupid and will never partake in them, nor have I ever partaken in them. It’s just the one line I’ve drawn in the sand that I won’t cross.

2. Divorce

I got married. For forever.  The end.

3. Misspell my name

Caitlin. Kaitlyn. Kaitlynne. Katelynn. Caitlyn. Kaytlin. No.

Kaitlin.

4. Neglect

…to go one day without reminding my husband and my daughter that I love them. I have this irrational, hidden fear that any day could be my last with one of them and I don’t want to be one of those people who say “the last time I saw him, we argued…”This is also the reason I won’t let my husband leave the house without kissing me goodbye.

5. Eat a spider

‘Nuff said.

 6. Stop believin’

…in God. I may not subscribe to a particular religion. I may constantly question the religious status quo. I may never find the answers I’m looking for. I come to the conclusion that there is no “one religion”. I may discover that Hinduism is the one true religion. I don’t know. But I DO know that I believe in one God. The God. And I will never stop believing that because the evidence of His existence can be seen in every aspect of my life.

7. Hate anyone

I’ve had my share of heartache. I’ve had many people treat me like less than dirt. But I don’t hate them. I don’t hate anyone. Hate doesn’t do any good except cause you to grow bitter and spiteful. Pretty soon it infects every corner of your life and there is nothing you are able to do about it. Hate is such an awful feeling. I don’t ever want to feel that way. Instead, I feel pity for people. And that is 10 times worse for them. ;D

8. Kill a bunny

On purpose, that is. They are far too cute and fluffy. And besides…he probably has a bunny wife and bunny children.

9. Regret anything

I don’t believe in regretting. Everything that happens in life, every choice that is made is for a reason and is part of who I am (and who you are!) today. I have made mistakes and will continue to make them. But as long as I can learn and grow from them, there is no reason to regret.

10. Stop dreaming

I will always dream big. Even if my dreams don’t all come true, it’s still nice to realize all the possibilities out there. I want to be a journalist, a lawyer and a teacher. I doubt I will have enough life to be able to do all that and still visit at least half the countries in the world and raise at least 2 kids. But it’s nice to dream.

I had a baby.

Maybe I should rephrase the prompt slightly. I always wanted and said I was going to have children. But in my heart of hearts, I never thought I would actually have one this young.

A lot of things went through my mind when I first saw those two little lines on the pregnancy test. “Oh my god, I’m pregnant.” “It’s probably a defective test. Maybe I should do another one.” “I’m too young to be a mom.” “I’m barely a wife, how can I possibly be a mom!?” “What am I going to tell Tim? We aren’t ready for this.” “How am I going to finish school?” “That’s what I get for watching Babies.”

Notice none of those things are “YAY! I’m having a baby! Just what I’ve always wanted!”

I’m sure that many people look at this and shake their head in disdain. How could I possibly not have been immediately joyful about something as wonderful as this? Don’t I know how many people would give an arm and a leg if it meant they could have have a baby? Do I not realize the number of women who suffer from fertility issues and will never experience this moment of realizing I carry a life inside me?

I know this. Which is why I’ve never really talked about this before except to my husband.

I found out I was pregnant and joy was not my immediate feeling. My first feeling was complete and utter terror.

You know what? That’s okay. It’s healthy.

Those first few weeks were difficult. I took four pregnancy tests because I just couldn’t comprehend what was happening. (As an aside, the dollar store pregnancy tests are just as effective as the $14 drugstore ones. Go cheap.)  I didn’t tell my husband right away. I kept it to myself for a full 24 hours. (Not the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.) We’d only been married for three months. We lived in a dumpy apartment. We were just getting used to living together and now we had to prepare to welcome a new life. Neither of us were finished with school. We had no money.

Done bun, can’t be undone.

So we talked. And we planned. We scrimped. And we scraped. We prayed. And we praised.

Long story short, we are here. Almost a full year later with my 3-month-old daughter who is a total blast–mostly she has warm clothing and parents who love her. We live in a 4-bedroom house in a great neighborhood. Tim has an amazing job that meets our needs every month. We have food in our fridge and gas in our cars.

I am finishing up the last of my transfer degree and somehow we will make it work for me to finish my bachelor’s next year. Tim is in school full time, working full time, and also being a full-time husband and father. Our families have been incredibly supportive and loving, helping us whenever and however we need it.

Looking back I think “Eh, it didn’t turn out so bad.” My doomed picture of a starving baby screaming in a dingy apartment with a mother who left her dreams of school behind in the dust was–just slightly–melodramatic. But it wasn’t unnecessary. We were unprepared. Is it better to realize that you are wholly unqualified and unprepared to care for a human being or to think that you have it all together only to have a rude awakening once you are holding that screaming infant in your arms? We weren’t ready. But what better way to get ready. Is it more effective to slowly wade into a freezing pool, trying to convince yourself to dunk your head under the water and never really succeeding because it’s just soooo coooold or to have someone just shove you in and get it over with?

Realizing you have a problem is the first step to recovery. Realizing you aren’t prepared is the first step to being prepared. Realizing you are scared is the first step to being brave. Realizing there is an obstacle is the first step to overcoming it.

You need a steady career. You need to own a house. You need a nest egg. You need good health insurance. You need to be out of school. You need to be married for awhile first. You need this, that and the other.

Don’t have a baby too soon or your world will end.

That is what you hear. Everywhere you go. From almost anyone. Somehow, somewhere, our society has shifted into this mindset that everything has to be just so before you are allowed to have children. But what IS just so? I get my house and my career. And then decide I need a bigger house and more money. Then I decide I should have my retirement fund started and I should get some traveling out of the way (because that’s impossible with children). Pretty soon, I’m 36 and I’m still trying to convince myself to dunk my head under the cold water.

I think I prefer to be shoved.

Plus, baby cuddles are far more pleasant than cold water.

Then there was a party. On a cold and windy day. You watched me carefully and I pretended not to care. It was a silent flirtation that screamed to us.

“Forever. Forever and always.”

Twenty-six hands and we still found each other; quietly congratulating ourselves on the sly way our fingers danced towards the other. I never wanted to let go.

But I didn’t know you. I didn’t know about you. I just knew I wanted you.

So later, when pipe dreams and cold cement clattered around us, I felt my last grip give way. And then I was falling. Deeper and farther than I ever had before.

I didn’t want to say goodbye.