The myth of the perfect baby

Yeah, it's me again.  I do this sometimes, ya know, that thing where I actually give a shit about life and try to make a go of things?  So fuck what you heard it's what you hearin.  Yup, I'm quoting DMX.  What else to you expect the girl with the Deadpool tattoo to do? Damn I hate this shit though...I hate the not knowing.  But I do know this:  It always works out the way it's supposed to.  Always.  Today is a significant date for me, for Ronnie, for our family.  My whole world changed 12 years ago, and for the worse, for the better, forever.  I lost a baby 12 years ago today.  Not a miscarriage per se, but a premature stillbirth due to amniotic infection.  It's a long story, I think I've told the story before if you look back through the archives and I choose not to taint my happiness today with the hurt and heartache retelling it causes.  So I won't.  Needless to say,  he was lost, and it changes a person. ...

Yeah, the title is a little misleading I guess for the post. Especially to those waiting around for an honorable mention here.  Is that cryptic?  Maybe.  But it is what it is. I'm selling my house.  A house I never thought I'd have to sell, the place that was my constant growing up, the place that contains most of my happy childhood memories, the place I could always call home when my parents couldn't keep the rent paid and we had to move houses....again.  This place that has turned into a poisonous vat of unhappiness that is my life now.  This place that would have ripped a family any less in love with each other than my own apart.  This place that now also harbors so much resentment for what should have been that I've begun to hate the very existense of its cloying stench.  Is this dramatic?  Sure, but what am I if not a dramatic attention seeking person that requires people to feel sorry for what I don't have?  Oh.....wait, that's ano...