A warning to my readers, this post is graphic and possibly very upsetting.
Today was a beautiful day. I was happy and spending time with my beautiful children and my husband, and feeling motivated to try something new.
We had a gallon of milk in the fridge about to go bad, so I figured I would try and make some feta cheese! How crafty! How exciting!
I put the milk on to slowly boil and put the kids up to their beds for a nap. Todd was getting ready for work, and I was watching my milk warm. It took a long time to boil.
Finally is started steaming, and I would stand over it and stir. The smell was not unpleasant to me but for some reason it was making my stomach turn. As I kept stirring and it got hotter and hotter, I just kept feeling sicker and sicker. I wanted to be by it, watch it boil, tend the project... and be by the smell... but I also wanted to run and cry and vomit.
I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. The milk achieved boil, and I pulled it off the heat and added the lime juice and vinegar. All of a sudden it hit me... as the smell wafted up to my face it hit me... it was the same thing I smelled as I gave my infant son CPR. The smell of the milk, warm and curdled. When I gave him CPR his stomach emptied. It got all over me, all over him and the floor. I had a baby blanket that I'd wipe his face with as I tried to resuscitate him.
All that night in the hospital that I what I smelled on me. I smelled it as they told me my son was dead. I smelled it when I made the phone call to my family. That smell... the death of my son.
It really ruined my day. I feel so upset, so heart broken all over again. What a horrible memory. It made everything so fresh.
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