When the body makes peace with all the changes to come, a sudden rest takes over. A small bit of bliss gives hope to the life forming within. Most women for the first time stand with their hips forward. They push their gut out and their hands rub their belly. Truthfully there is nothing to show, except that it’s well to gain weight and to loosen a bit. Other women work hard to delay the process. It is a defeat they will not take lightly. No one will say what their body will look like and have dominion over it. We find these two standing beside each other, one comments of how wonderful the changes will be, the other comments on her efforts to support her current lifestyle. There is of course a third, who waits and perseveres to hear her good news. She passes all the tests, she knows her choices and as she looks around at the mothers that will carry their own, her own another will carry. Hers will be one born of her loving heart, her body unaffected but her heart continually struggles. Her heart will bear the stretch marks as she waits. How will these relate when in the end they will hold in their hands someone they expected but could truly never know what it takes to rear it. A child will change their lives but how it will, they are still learning. Guts out, work outs or hearts yearning, let your journey inspire another.
Author note: Do not let your journey be a private one. Can someone’s wisdom inspire you or can you inspire another? We have all different approaches and beliefs, however we share one common goal to love our children.
There are days…
I seem to want to finish that sentence every chance I get.
There are days…when an overwhelming ticking sound reminds me of every deadline, personal expectation and calendar date as it approaches. Time seems to laughs at me as it rushes by leaving me frazzled with my hands full and nowhere to lay these things down.
There are days…which encourage the to-do’s and the should have’s and the wants to grow around me like weeds.
There are days…where I look above these weeds that choke me to see fly past me the hidden goals in my heart.
There are days…that beckon me to ride fast, fly high or take a dive, dropping all my worries behind.
There are days…I would just like to run, to run away from all responsibilities, demands, and roots that hold me down.
There are days…and this I forget. There are more days than this day, so I take a deep breath do what I must, surrounded by what I love and think. There are more days and I will not faint.
There is an incredible truth that baffles professionals. It is the reality of how a woman in her first trimester can relate in every way to a Zombie. She wakes up and the taste in her mouth from last night’s dinner propels her to the toilet for a morning outpour of leftovers. Once she feels the sweet emerging relief, she drops again to face the odious throne. It is difficult to maintain any resemblance to a female creature when all energy flees like a bandit from the crime scene. Behind her she drags her slippers as she makes her way into the kitchen and smells the neighbor’s breakfast. They’re having eggs with sausage and the taste of sausage lingers on her tongue and she flips to her side to drain whatever food remains into the sink.
The day continues and she manages to keep the sprite and soda crackers steady within her except the weight of her head seems too much for her to carry. At work a sitting area with a large couch calls her to rest her feet and lower her heavy head. She sits for a moment, until she opens her eyes to find her boss staring at her. He expresses his concern for her health and she thanks him stating its one of those crazy days. She rushes to the nearest fast food place crossing sideways through traffic to make her turn and arrive at a place she doesn’t frequent but a force within her drives her to it. She eats like a starving child the dripping pickle with chocolate ice cream while she cries at her disgusting self. Feeling ashamed at the events of her day she walks to the parking lot spitting left and right like a camel, feeling every second a lesser woman. She reaches her car door when the sudden rise of pickles volcanoes out of her body to the unsuspecting bush nearby. She rests her body on her couch finally at home, where her husband finds her. One of her legs rests on the arm rest, the other did not make it to the couch, her head hands low on the edge of the right side cushion and from the moss of hair he hears her weeping. She mutters about her day, her exhaustion, her need to use the bathroom every minute , her constant thirst and worst of all she feels all these at once. He brings her water and she cries mentioning her talent for water recycling.
Author’s Note: The funniest part is that mothers will do it all over again for the love of another child. I would. What was it like for you? Or is there something that was difficult that you would do all over again?
She remembers when she saw other moms and their kids having fits at the store and saying, “that wont be me.” She has a plan, a system and a confidence that she will not join the clans of wild children and their weak moms. Her one year old begins to express his likes and dislikes and she enjoys his independence. This day follows a different routine, their normal routine does not meet the demands of the day. Her independent son shows great dislike for the errands they have to make. He turns red, throws himself on the floor, screams and flaps his arms and legs. She rushes to him and picks him up. He arches his back and she almost drops him to the floor. She runs to the car like her child could be dying and they both sit in the backseat of the car catching their breath.
She composes herself and talks with him about proper behavior. They arrive home and as she reviews her choice words in her head, she talks to him once more.
“One day you’ll be a grown up and grown ups don’t have fits.” She says to him confident that the event is over and they can enter their home in peace.
Inside by the front door a man grunts, throwing his fists in the air and clenching every muscle in his arms and legs.
“I could just punch a hole in these walls.” He throws the cellphone in his hands to the couch.
She looks down at her son who watches his dad and then smiles at her.
Author’s note: Yes, grown ups don’t have fits. Who believes that? I remember a few I had just a week ago. Sometimes life is hard and too complicated but it’s also funny to know that since kids we’ve all dealt with the things we don’t like but continue to persevere and move forward.