Where do I even start?

My friend Rhonda is pregnant.

I don't even know what to think.

I don't know whether to pray to God for mercy on her or justice.

She is so. Messed. Up.

The good news is, she's in therapy now, at a church no less, and off anxiety medications--although it's because she became addicted to them and therefore can't have them anymore. She's got a boyfriend who seems okay-ish from her e-mails. She's toying with the idea of there MAYBE being a "supreme being." She's speaking to me again. Those are all good things.

But I just don't know, Di. I just don't know.

Meanwhile, I'm over here bawling in the middle of the night to Stephen, "I can't do this again," because Micah keeps confusing me.

Oh well. He's three months old. Things have got to get better soon, right? Right.

In the meantime, I think I better go rouse him. He's been napping for, like, 2.5 hours.

-Stephanie

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