Today I wouldn't go to the beach, because of the rain, but I would like to have the option of going to the beach. And if I woke up today in some alternate reality, some splinter of time where there was no Bug, I would go to the beach anyway. I would go lay in the wet sand and let the rain fall all over me and listen to the waves.

I've been sick for over a week now, with a sore throat, my ears plugged and my nose running, and last night at 2:00 a.m., during the fifth time I had to get up for the Bug, I felt like I would throw up. I wasn't sleeping well anyway, my throat was so sore. I put my fevered face against the cool wall for relief and listened to him cry in the other room, and with the sick washing over me, I remembered what it was like during the first trimester. I thought of my life, how it turned into something else on Thanksgiving Day, 2004, when I knew I was pregnant. Then I started to cry.

This morning, after I dropped off Mister Aran at work, I came home to a smiling, happy Bug. I took him, we played, we watched Teletubbies, and later he took a nap. I wish I could say that looking at him, all that soft baby skin and smiles, made it all worth it. But I can't. Not today.