Short Assignments - Mothering Forums

Forum Jump: 
 
Thread Tools
#1 of 28 Old 04-08-2005, 07:14 PM - Thread Starter
 
Jesse Michener's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 73
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Please read Week Two before posting to this thread and then share your short assignments here.

Have fun!

~J
Jesse Michener is offline  
Sponsored Links
Advertisement
 
#2 of 28 Old 04-09-2005, 04:49 PM
 
JeanetteL's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2002
Location: Phoenix, AZ
Posts: 988
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Okay - I have NO idea if I am on the right track with this or not. I read the notes for this week twice - but was hoping to see an example of someone else's short assignment first. So much easier when someone else jumps in before me... Anyway, here is goes. This one turned out to come out of me even free-er than the freewrites did....does that mean it should be refined more?

_____________________________________


The darker side of motherhood.

I feel heat rising to my face. Pressure threatening an explosion. I want to go and hide. Withdraw. I do NOT want to be her mother right now. I want to be 20, cute and unencumbered by her needs and expectations. I want to carry a tiny purse, with only a lipstick and credit card. I want to bury my head in a good book with long words and deep meanings. I want to dance until dawn and wear high-heeled shoes. I want-I want-I want-I want. she needs-she needs-she needs-she needs. she wants-she wants-she-wants-she wants. I NEED – I NEED – I NEED – I NEED. I am not supposed to think such things. Deep shame for feeling this way. Dark thoughts that cannot be expressed. On the outside I am composed, serene, the ever-giving Madonna. Inside – my dirty little secret. I want to run away. Just for a little while maybe. Till later. I’d come back. I know I would. I would.
JeanetteL is offline  
#3 of 28 Old 04-09-2005, 05:05 PM
 
JeanetteL's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2002
Location: Phoenix, AZ
Posts: 988
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Sense of smell
I open the fridge door, sometime in my eighth week of pregnancy, and I am assaulted. No, that is not too strong a word. My fridge contains every nuance of every smell that exists in the universe. Alone, one at a time, perhaps they would be acceptable. All together, jumbled and overlapping and competing for my attention, they are unbearable. Sweet, sour, mold, blood, tangy, heavy, bitter, creamy. My head swims and my stomach swirls and I slam the fridge door before I completely loose it, adding the stench of vomit to the odorous brew that has sent me tumbling over the edge. The particles of food must still be in the air, in my nose. I run to the sink and splash my face with water, trying to erase the scent. I breathe through a clean towel. Then I sigh a deep sigh, sit down on the couch and eat another unsalted cracker.
JeanetteL is offline  
#4 of 28 Old 04-10-2005, 09:04 PM - Thread Starter
 
Jesse Michener's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 73
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
You are most certainly on the right track. Thanks for taking a risk by posting first. Your words are a gift to the rest of us!

~Jesse
Jesse Michener is offline  
#5 of 28 Old 04-10-2005, 11:02 PM
 
netnet's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2005
Posts: 13
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Doctor

I couldn’t believe it here was the same doctor that scared a first time mother into a nightmarish hospital birth. Now a second time around I was faced to deal with him yet again. He looked me in the eye and asked me “why would you want to have a homebirth, my wife would never want one-you know the mess and everything?” Really and truly he was quite perplexed and couldn’t understand why a homebirth would be desirable. I stared at him dumfounded, here was a man that delivered babies for a living and his definition of childbirth was “mess”. With my homebirth in jeopardy I had to consult this man because I had almost reached my 42-week in my pregnancy. His expertise would evaluate my unborn child and myself so I could obtain some sort of consent to have my “mess” at home. The next time I saw him was at the hospital where he told me my time was up and that I needed to book my inducement. I walked out that day confident that I would not fall prey to his scare tactics and he could take his inducement appointment and well … I wouldn’t be using it. That night I birthed my baby girl in a pool in our home surrounded by family and love. If only I had had the knowledge and confidence the first time around.
netnet is offline  
#6 of 28 Old 04-11-2005, 09:51 AM
 
zenfulmama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: regenerating
Posts: 191
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Walking down the grey basement steps, I could smell what her cat had done again. There was cat piss on the floor reaking next to the piles of dirty laundry. In my ignorance I grabbed her cleaner and poured it on. the piss steamed and sizzled like witches brew, its vapors rising through the one shaft of light. i screamed and ran, and learned: bleach and ammonia don't mix. all morning, all day, all night i scanned every baby book index i could find for environmental toxins and their effect on baby. i read and learned that if it was a crucial week for the child in the first trimester, chances are you could screw them for life. Perhaps the way all the bong hits and gin and tonics had already done when i was ignorant of the being that i was carrying within. a heightened sense of smell, a heightened sense of life, a newfound sensitivity for the greater good found in a puddle of piss.
zenfulmama is offline  
#7 of 28 Old 04-11-2005, 12:25 PM
 
Simcha's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Arcata, Northern CA
Posts: 72
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
I held up her sweet little onsie...the one that was long and tiny all at the same time. The one with little bees buzzing across the fabric. I wondered as I looked down at my taut, round belly, at the miracle that within me was the being that would one day wear this small piece of clothing. All those wonderings about who this little being would be, what would s/he look like, was she a she? Yet, the certainty that my baby would one day wear this incredibly small onsie was relatively concrete. A stone in the flowing river of possibilities. I would often hold up her clothes while I was pregnant, always marveling that yes! I was pregnant, and yes! one day my babe would be in my arms and in her clothes. Amazing.
Simcha is offline  
#8 of 28 Old 04-11-2005, 12:37 PM
 
Simcha's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Arcata, Northern CA
Posts: 72
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
She walked in the door of that room, with the door open, covered only by a curtain...for "privacy"...and announced, after briefly looking at me and acessing "the situation" that I would probably have a c-section and that I could not drink any more fluids. This after 18+ hours of labor and 7 hours of pushing at home. This after the hugely dissapointing departure from my home. This cold statement after I had been working with all my might to bring my baby into this world...into the light. I, though exhausted, knew I would not submit! Not to this woman or her c-section that she I needed since I had been pushing so long. No! I looked to my man and saw the deep worry in his face...the dispair. I looked at the nurse next to me, a woman I knew and trusted as she had previously been a midwife. I looked at her and she leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, "I know you can do this. I know you can push this baby out." Thank you Joanne. Thank you! I ignored that doctor, though I did not drink any water, and endured terrible reflux burning my throat as I pushed for 3 more hours. And yes...I did push my daughter out...not into the peaceful hands of my midwife in the comfort of my home...but, I did give her a natural birth. At least there was the relief that I gave her that...and did not submit to the ideas of that doctor. (Amaya is awake...so my ending is a bit blunt I fear....I lost my train of thought. Sound familiar?! :-)
Simcha is offline  
#9 of 28 Old 04-11-2005, 03:10 PM
 
nora--not a llama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: (.)(.)UNpop Cleavage(.)(.)
Posts: 3,425
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Where am I? Where is the person formerly known as me? I stand in a room surrounded by four children, diapers, toys, snotty Kleenexes, piles of laundry and I wonder what has happened. My days used to consist of me, me, me; my books, my writing, a nap, a party, a two hour phone call. Now if I get five minutes to take a shower I consider myself lucky. A two minute conversation with another woman is a luxury. When was the last time I was able to sleep all night the deep restful sleep of my childless friends? I try to remember what it was like before I woke thirty times every night every time one of my children stretched or coughed or breathed too loud. I pack diapers, wipes, formula, bottles, bibs, burp rags, changes of clothes in a diaper bag and I try to remember what it felt like to just get in my car and go unencumbered, unhindered, unattached. What was it like before a smile or a word or a gesture tugged relentlessly at my heartstrings? Where am I? There must be a balance; there has to be because I am spinning faster and faster out of control into…somewhere. And I am not there. The diaper bag is packed, the babies are in their car seats, and I usher the other two out the door. I stop for a moment to gaze into the deep brown black of my son’s eyes, and there staring back at me is my reflection. The spinning screeches to a halt and everything stands still. I haven’t really gone anywhere; I’m still here. I’m just a different yet better version of my former self.
nora--not a llama is offline  
#10 of 28 Old 04-11-2005, 04:48 PM
 
nora--not a llama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: (.)(.)UNpop Cleavage(.)(.)
Posts: 3,425
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
After watching my dad with my twins yesterday afternoon, I modified the "my parents" topic to just be "my dad." Hope that's okay!

I am busy dealing with my two year old, and in the background the babies are fussing. My dad picks them both up, holds each one of them in the crook of an arm. He sits down and speaks softly into each of their ears. I collapse in a chair across the room and study the picture that the three of them make. Their soft bodies rest comfortably in the curves of his strong arms. Their heads lean on the warmth of his chest. He gazes at one and then the other, and pauses to kiss the tops of each of their heads where their hair is starting to come back in dark and fuzzy. Their breathing is steady and they seem to sink down into his lap, becoming part of him. His hands pat the sides of their finally chubby legs as he gently bounces them up and down, up and down. He is warm like a giant teddy bear, and the babies’ eyes get heavy with warmth and contentment. They sleep and he looks at them, studying the dimples in their fingers and the fan of their feathery eyelashes against their skin. He smiles and bows his head as if in reverence. I get the camera and take a picture to preserve the moment, but the truth is that it is already preserved in the recesses of my heart. It is there for me to see forever, and all I have to do is close my eyes and remember.
nora--not a llama is offline  
#11 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 12:19 PM
 
lavender's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2001
Location: the Fire Swamp
Posts: 407
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
I remembered that I'd actually wanted a midwife. I still thought in general they were better than doctors but as I lay on the table, legs in the air, my baby across the street in a box under lights, and the midwife scolding me for what I'd “done to myself” as she took a paper towel and scraped it down across my red cut and torn flesh, I screamed and wished I'd been able to afford the doctor.

Perhaps with the doctor things would have turned out differently. Perhaps I would have expected the episiotomy rather than place all my hopes and trust in someone who at the last second, when all my words were gone, wielded the knife we had agreed would stay in its drawer. Or he may have been more skilled with the knife, or understood that not all women can afford such a deep cut. He may not have belittled me, saying I had done this to myself. He may have been better with needle and thread, given me after care instructions for myself and the baby, or...he may have been a thousand times worse.
lavender is offline  
#12 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 12:39 PM
 
lavender's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2001
Location: the Fire Swamp
Posts: 407
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
I tried to argue against them, I really did, but they wouldn't listen, they threatened and they scared me and that fear got me. It was that fear they placed into my center that drained away the last of my resolve to keep his feet safe in my loving hands and far from the needle. So they let me hold him while they did it but I shook and as they punctured his tiny foot and he began to cry, I cried with an end-of-the-word despair. How can they do this to a five day old infant who only needs mother's arms and milk and should only feel comfort? They squeezed his foot and as the blood trickled out in fragile droplets, I felt life being squeezed out from my heart. I wanted to swaddle him in the blanket, run out the door, down the stairs across the parking lot and far away to cuddle before a fire but I was afraid of what would happen, afraid of what they would do.
lavender is offline  
#13 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 03:54 PM
 
nora--not a llama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: (.)(.)UNpop Cleavage(.)(.)
Posts: 3,425
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Fear is cold and dark and lonely. The sky outside the hospital window is grey and the light in the room is dim. My tiny infant son lies in a hospital bed connected to machines that measure his heart rate his respiration rate his oxygenation levels. I stand at his side staring at his tiny body, tracing the curve of his nose his chin his heart-shaped face with my finger. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is his tiny blue/grey body laying unresponsively on the floor. It has happened twice, and the images from each occasion are so strong that they play out in my mind like a movie on a reel. I don’t close my eyes anymore; I don’t sleep for fear of the memory. What is wrong with my boy? Why can’t the doctors figure it out? Fear is always coming for me now. It is creeping up behind me slipping its cold bony hands around my throat. I want to cry out but I don’t. Bile rises in the back of my throat and I gag and retch but nothing comes up. He sighs and stretches in his sleep. His breathing is steady and strong and he is peaceful. He is the picture of perfect health, but somewhere in me behind me around me is a fear with sharp teeth and soured breath because I know that something is wrong. I know the doctors are wrong; I know that they are as surely as I know that I will never ever be the same again. And I am scared; scared of their ignorance and scared of the thought of a life lived without his precious hands to hold.
nora--not a llama is offline  
#14 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 06:04 PM
 
harmonymama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: In the kitchen making broth
Posts: 653
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
In my last month of pregnancy, pants feel like a straight jacket, restricting my huge, blooming belly. My belly needs to breathe, needs to roll, needs to connect with my bare legs, sitting. Dresses, like tents, over my pregnant yogi body-- the next best thing to being nude. The breeze blowing over my huge, heavy belly during those last weeks-- one of life's delights.

These are fun!
harmonymama is offline  
#15 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 09:07 PM
 
ldsapmom's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Chico, CA
Posts: 1,524
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
There was a random Onesie on the stairs in front of my apartment. I noticed it one day as I collected my mail. Why in the world would there be a Onesie sitting there? Who could it possibly belong to? In our fourplex apartments across the street from a college there were only student-roomates and my husband and me. That Onesie perplexed me, and everyday for a month, it was there greeting me as I checked my mail. I thought it was mocking me, as we had been trying to get pregnant for over a year. Once the test came back positive, though, I ran outside and grabbed that Onesie. I realized it had not been teasing cruelly, but warning softly. It was my omen, and I took it, brought it into my house, washed it, and laid it in my new baby's drawer and thought, "That made sense all along."

One More

What's one more, right? What's one more grape to a bunch? One more cup of sand to a sandbox? One more cloud in a rainstorm? What's one more child to our family? The family I exhaust myself caring for, the one whose needs unfold before me like the yellow brick road. What's one more pregnancy? One more nine months sectioned off into trimesters? One more fear of loss in the first trimester, a concerned woman always checking for blood? What's one more large weight gain, loss of normal physical function, restless, sleepless nights? One more agonizing time of having a weak bladder, morning sickness, tender breasts. What's one more labor? What's one more baby blossoming from her body? Extending his or her arm as an olive branch to break the mother's insides. What could be worse than all of this? The fact that after this baby, there will not simply be, one more.
ldsapmom is offline  
#16 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 09:44 PM
 
Maltagirl's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: The land of milk and ...milk!
Posts: 245
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Itching, burning, hot to the touch, these two enormous bombs on my chest are ticking, ticking...nothing fits anymore, not the 34D red bra I always felt so good in, not my sports bras, not the 34DD bra I just found at the outlet mall. It's like I have four breasts, two in the bra cups and two more peeking out of the top of them. My shirts don't fit and still these breasts are on fire. Feverish and shy -- the water from my shower pierces them and they almost cry in pain. 36DD, 36DDD, where do I go from here? I'm not a big person, buy my breasts are overtaking my body. I go shopping and cry in every store. "We don't carry anything bigger than a DDD in a back size under 40, dear," explains the lady at the lingerie store. More tears. There has got to be somewhere for these breasts to go.

Then it happens. The heat is too great, the breasts explode. I spend the rest of my pregnancy in bras I buy online, size 36H.
Maltagirl is offline  
#17 of 28 Old 04-12-2005, 11:37 PM
 
Maltagirl's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: The land of milk and ...milk!
Posts: 245
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
I'll tell you about a dark side...I haven't had a good night's sleep since sometime in the summer of 2002. I'm going on three years, that's right, three years, without a stretch of sleep longer than 4 hours at a time. The exhaustion has taken root in my body and branched out to every part of me, every cell, every droplet of moisture inside me is tired, every bone aches to rest. I don't think I will ever feel refreshed again in my entire life. Some days, I'm afraid to drive, scared that I'll blink and my eyes, which yearn to be closed, will win the battle that rages all day, every day, the battle between wakefulness and slumber. And then what?
Maltagirl is offline  
#18 of 28 Old 04-13-2005, 03:23 AM
 
Jyotsna's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2004
Location: Right here!
Posts: 1,440
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
"Remove your clothes from your waist up, and put this paper cover on".
I fiddled with my shirt and bra and stood bare chested in room 6, then like a child, I followed his directions. Sitting on the end of the table, it felt like hours had gone by. My loss of dignity as I waited in the cold room, reminded me why I hate doctors.
He came in to examine me. I felt like a little girl, not a women of 40 years, with three beautiful children. He checked my vision, did strength testing and finally viewed my breast and lack of hair on my pubic crest. After looking over my blood hormone tests, and with words as swift and dangerous as a sharp sword, he shared with me my diagnosis. "I am sorry to say, you have a pituitary tumor". My first thoughts moved to getting pregnant, and I asked him what were my chances. "Slim", he said. As I drove home, my throat swelled, my swollen eyes covered with sun glasses allowed an ocean of tears to streamed down my lost face. At home I found temporary solice in my pillow, and a few hours of sleep as reality settled into my soul.

Vegetarian Hindu, mother to L,P and R. 
Jyotsna is offline  
#19 of 28 Old 04-13-2005, 03:21 PM
 
nora--not a llama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: (.)(.)UNpop Cleavage(.)(.)
Posts: 3,425
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
The pants lie next to me on the hospital bed, but I do not put them on. I stare at them; I stare at my bag that sits packed and ready to go. This hospital has been my home for weeks, and I can’t remember the last time that I wore pants. I pick up the pants and hold them in my hands. The tears start slowly, and then come faster and faster. How can I just go and leave my babies here? How, how, how? No mother wants to give birth and then go home empty handed. If I put these pants on, then I must get up and walk out the door and leave my babies in someone else’s care. But even if I stubbornly refuse to put them on, I must leave anyway. I must walk out the door and leave my precious ones hooked up to machines that monitor their well-being. I must kiss their tiny little fingers and toes and go home where I will stare for long hours at the empty crib next to my bed. I quiet the sobs that are racking my chest, and I sigh a long, long sigh attempting to blow out the pain like one would blow out a candle. It doesn’t work. Still fighting, fighting, fighting I put one leg in the pants and then the other, wincing from the pain of the fresh wound across my lower belly. The pants are on; I stand to leave, wincing from the pain of the fresh wound across my heart.
nora--not a llama is offline  
#20 of 28 Old 04-13-2005, 05:53 PM
 
netnet's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2005
Posts: 13
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Pre-natal tests

Consent? There were papers I should have signed? I wanted to cry as the midwife explained the protocol that should have been adhered to. Confused I tried to comprehend how my doctor had failed to provide me with adequate care and then a realization came to me. My doctor would never have anything to do with the birth of this baby growing in my belly. The memory of the phone call from the office asking me to come in still takes my breath away. The stuttered agreement and the mumbled I’ll be right there. The numb feeling as I stood staring at the phone stunned, then rushing to the doctor’s office and sitting in the small room sweating. You’re baby may have downs syndrome she casually said to us. I was screaming in my head-what -how? Remember the blood work you went for – I nodded glumly-she continued one of the tests came back positive. These next words -you need to go for an amnio as soon as possible still echo in my head. This pre-natal test brought about senseless worry and procedures that made me weep in anger and fear but it also guided me to my midwives whom I will be forever grateful to for helping me birth my baby in peace and dignity.


Newly pregnant breasts

My breasts are hard and round. I think my period must be soon while I stuff myself into my bra, my breath catches in pain. Later that night as I lay down the thought crosses my mind, pregnant? I feel like I could be pregnant again, a little light headed, nauseas and there are my breasts, ouch. I shake my head and laugh to myself no it would be impossible, a miracle really. Conflicting thoughts run through my head, I would love to have another baby in the house, what are you crazy how can you manage to care for three children when you are already feeling so overwhelmed. A baby, may be a little boy, my little Basquiat? But the blood comes and I feel confusingly relieved yet full of regret.
netnet is offline  
#21 of 28 Old 04-14-2005, 02:55 PM
 
Maltagirl's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: The land of milk and ...milk!
Posts: 245
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
We saw it when I was about 7 weeks pregnant and starting to feel like hell. It caught Bryan's eye because it bore Iowa State's colors, red and gold. He realized we had to have it when he saw the little tractor on the chest. I stared through my nausea at it, a little piece of familiarity in the baby clothing section of the department store, a little onesie that the baby inside me would wear. Any reference to home for Bryan, who grew up on a farm in Iowa, was comforting to him, and any reminder that someone I would love was making me feel so sick was comforting to me, so we bought it. The next weeks were a blur or wretching and sleeping, but we hung that onesie from the fruit basket in the kitchen. I could look at the tiny red and gold piece of clothing with the little tractor on it and imagine the tiny person who would wear it someday. Our little girl wore it. Though it would have looked great on our little boy two years later, we didn't put it on him. It was too much Anna's.
Maltagirl is offline  
#22 of 28 Old 04-14-2005, 03:47 PM
 
nora--not a llama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: (.)(.)UNpop Cleavage(.)(.)
Posts: 3,425
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
My face is red and I have beads of sweat popping out on my forehead and above my lips. The nurse is standing near my head and she leans down and speaks. “That was a good one. Just one more and your baby will be here.” What??!! I’ve only pushed three times; isn’t it supposed to take longer than that? I’m not ready yet… Again the nurse leans over and says, “just one more.” Just like that; as though someone were saying “I’ll just have one more slice of pizza,” or “It’s just one more day until the weekend.” Birth isn’t that commonplace is it? I realize women do this every day, but this is going to change my life forever in ways that I can feel in my soul but cannot begin to comprehend in my mind. I breathe in and curve myself over my enormously round belly. I bear down, red-faced, cheeks puffed out, and with strength and fear and wonder I push my way into the eternal sisterhood of mothers. She is here, and I hear her voice for the first time as she announces her displeasure with the cold the light the open, open space. They place her on my chest and she quiets and looks at me out of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. She stares into me and breathes deep and everything stands still. Don’t anybody move or speak. I want just one more moment suspended in this very time and place...
nora--not a llama is offline  
#23 of 28 Old 04-14-2005, 07:23 PM
 
harmonymama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: In the kitchen making broth
Posts: 653
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
The first time I was pregnant, my breasts were the first sign we noticed. Tender, sore, juicy, and lusciously large. They were a bitter-sweet treat. Second time around, the only sign post was my son nursing-- like finger nails on a chalkboard. My breasts were not voluptous. I just wanted to put them away, for good! Now they are soft mama breasts on a mama body. My babes have changed me on every level-- inside and out.
harmonymama is offline  
#24 of 28 Old 04-15-2005, 11:35 AM
 
mama free's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 19
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
a warm, soothing, softly flowing shower. body exploration amid a steamy fog. my soft, large breasts with large, expansive areolas around my dark nipples. my growing belly, stretching wide to welcome my new world. my strong back, achingly sore and covered with unsightly rashy bumps. my bushy undergrowth, bustling like a heathery moss thriving in the shade of that full moon. my legs, also covered by a soft, dark down since efforts to groom gave way to others--the efforts to sooth, accept, embrace. my feet, tired but strong, supporting two bodies, eight limbs--a sturdy stand for my spinning globe. my arms, my hands, traveling across my face and neck. my armpit. all other changes, i will come to love. even the rash, i can happily ignore. i feign distaste and disgust for his sake only, for i do not have to see it. (it baffles my doctor, and resists all treatments and scrubs, persisting until the baby comes, then vanishes overnight.) but this armpit. i have developed an unsightly skin tag, like ugly debris on a pristine and sacred ocean. this was unexpected. my body--inhabited by another, accepting and embracing everywhere but here, where one little eruption sends up a petulant, insistent complaint. i sense it will be soon forgotten. but for now, i study it, giving it its due. i mourn the loss of a perfect armpit, virgin territory from a brazen, virgin youth.
mama free is offline  
#25 of 28 Old 04-15-2005, 11:39 AM
 
aidan&owen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: Alberta, Canada
Posts: 6
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
One More

Push past the burn! You have got to be kidding. The nurse was great and sounded like she was coaching a football game. My first son was a c-section and this one was going to truely be a VBAC. All the 9 months of well meaning people cheering" You can't be too sure dear"...what did they know now huh?!?!?!?. One More push hon- you can do it. I could not believe the cheer. Then he was there- Stop pushing WHAT! Okay one more...YOu already said that. Then he was there. What did they know! I called them all and announced- Natural birth all!!!!!!!!!!!.So there. Then I continued to enjoy my new baby.



Taking Blood

As they squeezed his little heel and he cried, I felt my heart shirvel. How could I be letting this happen. I am his protector , his mother. Then the dreaded..."Well honey I am not getting enough from this little heel. I will have to do the other one too. You know he is slightly jaundiced and you did test positive for strep." Boy- the line " Slap the stupid right out of her for doing her job" ran its mantra in my head. Then it was over and I had him in my arms and I was crying. Swearing that this would not happen to my next child and I would not let this happen again to this child. My new babe, poked and proded, now nestled feeding and nursing at my breast.


My Armpits


Wow, So this is the changed chemistry of a mother huh. This sucks. This smells. I never had body odor like this. God, do I even leave the house LOLOL
You arms smell mommy. Thanks I sat laughing. Making a mental note to talk to my naturopath. The rest of my body has now attained its own agenda, and the pits were the last stand. Thankfully after the naturopath visit..I have learned about this new body that I have lived with for years and then had children. Well the many wonders of what we forgo for our kids. First its this then that ....now the need for "kill all" deoderant....the crystal ain't cuttin' it. The serach for the almighty "aluminum free" product begins. *sigh* Then I get an oatmeal kiss, boogers on my shoulder and a nose in my pit. "Honey that smells." "Yeah- but it's you Mommy."
aidan&owen is offline  
#26 of 28 Old 04-15-2005, 11:49 AM
 
mama free's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 19
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
one more. contraction, doctor, nurse, hospital round, intervention, injection, disturbance, one more thing and person to fight. one more time to insist on a choice, some power, a fragment of my birth fantasy. breathe deep, focus in, look in his eyes, concentrate, hum, relax, hold yourself together, let yourself go. hours slip by. no progress. pitocin goes in, tears stream out. monitors beep constantly. doctors tell me again. c-section, c-section, c-section. circling in their minds, a foregone conclusion, spinning their web over me as i weaken. one more crisis. heartrate plunges. one more rush of staff to flip me, tickle her head, check me, break my water on the sly. i cry. one more time. will i have nothing that happens on its own? will no-one trust my body? not even me? she was not ready yet. that is all. leave me alone. but wait. tell me you're close. one more time. that nothing will happen. like it did that other time. use your furrowed brow to send me a clear message, even as you reassure me. i know there are no promises you can make. none you will. you know what i want. i know what you want. one more try. to do it my way. until one more doctor comes on duty. no-nonsense. sending sharp edicts to end my torture. to begin your life. i give in. they cut me open. you are perfect. relief floods in. and yet, i am sorry it took a while for you to see my face. to feel my arms. to be with those you belong to. a fantasy slips away. a new life creeps softly in. and now, i think, one more.
mama free is offline  
#27 of 28 Old 04-15-2005, 12:02 PM
 
mama free's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 19
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
what if she disappears in the night, quietly slipping away to dance with fairies, leaving me cold, to discover her body left behind like some shell that got too heavy, too tiresome to carry around?

what if i become paralyzed in the bath and she slowly covers with water, unable to save herself, unable to see the love and shock in my eyes?

what if i drop her, fall down the stairs, have one careless second and slip or don't watch her closely enough?

what if i forget she's asleep in the car and leave her there?

what if i don't love her enough?

what if i love her too much?

what if she doesn't love me back?

what if nothing happens, and i waste tears and worry? what if this fear keeps me from her?

what if i die and leave her motherless?

what if she inherits my depression?

what if she never knows how much i want for her?

what if all her dreams come true?
what happens then?
what happens if, after a sunny day in july, when her dream has flown in like a bird lightly landing on an open window ledge, she's too busy worrying about the clouds in the sky behind him to listen to his song?

what if she's just like me?
mama free is offline  
#28 of 28 Old 04-15-2005, 08:26 PM
 
harmonymama's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: In the kitchen making broth
Posts: 653
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 0 Post(s)
Fear sits in my chest-- like lead. My heart can't breathe. I wake in the morning with it clenching my stomach. I speak. It sommersaults into my throat. What if my baby gets stuck in my pe3lvis? What if he dies and my husband and I do not make it? My baby is breech. We try to turn him. I hear his little heart beat slow way, way down. Fear sizzles through every cell. But his heartbeat goes back up. I can breathe again. Fear flows out of me in red and black on the page. Fear is my friend-- a wise grandmother who releases me. Labor begins. I am beyond all fear, suspended in a loving knowing that all will be well.
harmonymama is offline  
Reply

Quick Reply
Message:
Drag and Drop File Upload
Drag files here to attach!
Upload Progress: 0
Options

Register Now

In order to be able to post messages on the Mothering Forums forums, you must first register.
Please enter your desired user name, your email address and other required details in the form below.
User Name:
If you do not want to register, fill this field only and the name will be used as user name for your post.
Password
Please enter a password for your user account. Note that passwords are case-sensitive.
Password:
Confirm Password:
Email Address
Please enter a valid email address for yourself.
Email Address:

Log-in

Human Verification

In order to verify that you are a human and not a spam bot, please enter the answer into the following box below based on the instructions contained in the graphic.



User Tag List

Thread Tools
Show Printable Version Show Printable Version
Email this Page Email this Page


Forum Jump: 

Posting Rules  
You may post new threads
You may post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off
Trackbacks are On
Pingbacks are On
Refbacks are Off