Shock Therapy

As I travel this road of becoming a functioning human being again, I keep thinking as much as I love him would it be so bad to have my memory erased. You know like the old saying, "You can't miss what you didn't know you had"... or something like that.

I think it would go something like this just like in the movies and books.

The screen would be grainy with the occasional sguiggly lines jumping across. Black and white no color.
Swish swhish would be the sound of my hospital shoes as they half dragged me, half supported me down the corridor. My head would sway on my shoulders back and forth, too heavy to carry from all the happy little pills they kept giving me to swallow.
The lab coats would be fitted and buttoned up high, black gloves all the way to the elbows. Nurses would be standing by in sexy little short skirts and little caps that sit above their perfectly coifed hairdos.
"We are ready for you doctor", one would say sweetly.
They would strap me down with my arms out in the shape of a cross. I would gag as they forced the wooden piece between my lips, to keep me from biting my tongue they would whisper as they brushed my limp hair back from my forehead. Little sticky pads would be placed all over my skin and forehead.
They would tell me we are going to help erase all those memories. I won't be able to argue with my mouth full.
I won't be able to tell them, you will have to go back too far. I won't be able to say, you have to take the memories from the very start.
I won't be able to tell them, go back to the very first thought, the day that I told my husband I was ready to try again. They won't know that I need them to erase so much. I won't be able to tell them, I loved him for so long. I wanted him before he was ever conceived.
When the treatment is complete and my skin is on fire, and my mouth is dry and my teeth hurt from biting, they will ask do you know where you are? and I will say, "well I must be in hell, because I have never felt pain like this before".
They will let me know I will require many more treatments.

On the tip of my tongue

We went to breakfast one morning.
It was such a lovely day. We sat across from him, this man that I did not know, a stranger but of some importance. For he pulled the strings that held my husband to his job.
So I smiled and I made polite chit chat. Filler talk about mundane subjects of no importance. Things that he brought up, things that he seemed interested in.
Then we discussed more personal issues, where we were from and so on.
And he asked because so stupidly like a dog chasing its own tail, I asked first.
"How many children do you have?" He had 4.
It was there bursting forth from deep within the chasm of my soul. The words rolled up within my throat, my tongue poised to form the letters, my throat moved with the sounds..."we have two".
Two boys, I said. I swallowed it back down like a gulp of water. It sat there in the pit of stomach for the entire meal, burning. Occasionally I could feel it start to make its way back up begging for release and I swallowed once again.
We showed photographs taking on our phones, I quickly scrolled to just the two boys, moving past the pictures that beckoned to be shown.
It was a pleasure and goodbyes were said. We walked to our car with smiles on our face for the meal had gone well.

The door closed and the dam broke and my heart wept as did every other part of me it seemed. All that I held inside poured out, I begged for his forgiveness telling him I am so sorry, so very sorry.
I was a coward and I could not say it, I couldn't stand the next step, the I am so sorry and the look of pity that would come. It hurts even more because the man knew, of course he knew, my husband had already told him when he had to request time off from work.

Oh if only I could do it again, I would proudly show my photos and tell him, "We have three boys, three amazingly beautiful children. One who has left us to soon but is still ours, still our child, still a part of our family".

Oh Braedon,
I am sorry that I was weak and I am sorry that I couldn't save you in time. I miss you so much.
Love,
Mommy