Oh, chick season. My favorite time of year. This year we added 7 babies to my existing flock of 5, and in July, I’ll be adding 3 more ducklings to my existing 3 ducks as well.
These babies were born on my birth sons birthday and got here the day after. (No, of course I didn’t plan it that way! (Ok, yes I did.))
The babies live in my bathroom, which is currently my favorite place to be. I do all my writing in there while sitting next to them.
This is my 4th year with baby chicks, and it will be my second year with the ducklings when they come.
I always tend to get them now…in the first week of April, to help with my feelings of grief and loss over my son. There’s something about taking care of teeny tiny day old chick babies that makes me feel needed, in a time where I’m feeling so desperately useless.
We built a new coop this year and finally got around to painting it (bright blue) a few weeks ago. We added a small garden in the middle of their large area full of chicken friendly plants and herbs. I’m excited about it all coming together and improving on their once more boring area.
It’s definitely a bit of an addiction, but hey…it’s better than some other addictions…right?
My husband is great. He loves the chicks and indulges me and my passion for raising them. He helps me with the heavy lifting and is there for me emotionally.
If I’ve learned anything over these past few weeks, it’s that I absolutely do not deserve him.
I’ve been feeling my absolute worst these past few weeks and I have not been myself. But the chicks, and the unconditional love from my husband, has been incredibly helpful.
I’m still incredibly fragile and feeling very broken, but having babies in my bathroom (and I guess the one in my stomach as well) gives me at least a small sense of purpose.
Keeping them all healthy and alive makes me feel good. Having them jump on me and get excited when I come in instead of running away makes me feel good.
Seeing my sons hold them gently and call them beautiful and telling them they love them is incredible, and I’m glad they get to have these experiences that I never did.
I’m going through a lot right now, and to say I’m struggling is…well, it’s a massive understatement. I did a lot of writing this morning and a lot of thinking, and a lot more contemplating if I should even really be alive. I’m leaning a lot towards “no”, but, as always, like a fucking fool, I’ll hold on for one more breath, one more day, and hope things get better.
All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and just keep…existing. I’m nearly out of strength, and I honestly don’t feel long for this world anymore. The only reason I’m still here is because of these babies, most importantly the baby inside of me.
I won’t do anything to hurt this baby, but honestly, sometimes I convince myself that the worst thing I can do for it is to bring it into this world with me as it’s mom. I feel so horrible and so useless…I’m hurting more than I have the words to describe, and I really feel like they’d all be better off without me.
But for today, for this hour, I’ll keep breathing, and I’ll try to keep fighting.
Feeling needed, feeling wanted….feeling like my very presence in a room is something other than completely detestable….that’s what I need right now.
At least I have my fluffy babies. For a few weeks, anyway.