[Janeytwo]

My children, I can't write about you any other way then to vent these flashes of moments as they come to my mind. Maybe that's because my memories of you are flahes of moments....I don't know....

In here I'm like a yo-yo. Logging on, logging off, logging on to write, doubting myself, logging off, coming back.

You know what too? That's how I remember it. Like a yo-yo. Sitting at diner tables, sitting in friend's cars, sitting on my bed at night staring down at my belly asking myself am I pregnant? Am I not? Maybe I'm not...no...I think I am...no, I'm sure I'm not...I'm not...no, I am...Am I?...I am. No, I'm not. Girls miss periods all the time; my friends say so. No, I am, no I'm not...am I?

Up down, up down. Hope, despair, calm, despair, hope, fear, self-hatred, denial, hope, despair, up down

Then: Does he love me? Does he not? Does he? Will he help me? Will he not? Does he love me? Does he not?

Up down, up down.

Oh my babies, in the womb were you living what I was feeling? Were you in there at the worst of moments when I weighed my options? Were you up and down? Did I start out your lives with a fear and with a loathing for yourselves? God, please don't let that be so!

Up down, up down. Maybe I can keep my babies. Maybe I can get an apartment, maybe get a job at the Big Boy. Maybe I could do it. Maybe I can go on welfare. Maybe I should chose not to have my babies. No, I can't, I can't. Maybe I can keep my babies, no how will I live. Maybe I can find a way. Maybe there's only one option for me. Maybe that's not true! Maybe it is.....

Picking up the phone, slamming it down, picking it up. Calling CSS, slamming down the phone, picking it up, calling again, asking to speak to someone, hanging up, calling again.

My babies, there is no braveness, there's no resolute one-shot decision, there's just this yo-yo of hope and desolution and numb denial in the middle.

There's just that.

Janey