I know that I am very behind on blogging. After Hazel's birthday, I slurped this whole blog into a book that I'm going to get published for her, and have been sweating about getting the formatting right. That has taken a lot of time. I also have spent seemingly every moment worrying about Tuesday. I'm petrified, paralyzed about Hazel's surgery and have crawled into a little hole of denial vacillating with terror. I am gripping my bottle of Ativan and chanting to myself over and over, "We are in the best place in the world. Best doctors in the word. They do this all the time. Taking every precaution. Saved her life already and can do it again. It's our destiny to grow old together. Hazel is the strongest person I know. We will be fine." I'm chanting like my mantra, but sometimes it feels as though I'm just trying to convince myself of something magical. I can't talk about it and make it become too real. We will celebrate after it's over and until then, I'm just going to float.