Committed.

So I promised myself that I would see this 'month of posting' to your blog through to the end. Hell, sometimes these months of posting are the most I write all year. It's important, and I'm thankful for the challenge. Mostly.

Earlier, while you were screaming in your bed, refusing to sleep, my finger hoovered over the "create new post" button. I didn't want to push that button. I wanted to walk away.

But here I am.
There were moments this evening I understood why, perhaps, women end up rocking away, in dark corners of their bedrooms or with tangled-up brains, hiding in the basement.

A part of me has been there, but not as a parent. What's frightening, though, are the gray corners of that image that creep in--start surrounding me.

There is no regret, but sometimes the vastness of this responsibility is heavy.