misadventures in self abandonment.
I sat on the carpeted floor next to the queen sized bed that occupied the majority of my bedroom space. From under a heap of blankets, my youngest son begins to cough violently. I slowly peel my achy body from beneath the westward facing window I am sprawled under, desperately seeking an influx of vitamin D, and peek my head over the top of the duvet. Matted clumps of blonde hair stuck to his forehead, heavy with sweat. His body still clinging desperately to sleep. These are some of the hardest moments of single motherhood — both of us waking early yesterday morning to the heavy, sickly sting of congestion and hot breath. Mine however, accompanied by ample amounts of sleep deprivation and self abandonment.
