A man signs up for a challenge. The challenge consists of walking blind folded in three different situations. The first is at a familiar place, the second at an unfamiliar place and the third with an unknown goal. The man accepts each task as they seem doable. At the familiar place, his home, though blinded he could remember and picture in his mind every object. He could visualize what the room looks like and he shows great ability moving around the obstacles. He enjoys accomplishing that task knowing that if he did lose sight he could still remember.
The next task he sees as a true challenge. In the unfamiliar place, he feels intimidation. He steps forward and discovers his surroundings. He could with touch, smell and at times taste describe where he is and what he encounters. He feels empowered with each task. On the last task they leave him at a walking trail without a goal or destination. For this task however, they do not cover his eyes. He doesn’t see the reason for this last task, yet continues.
When the man begins his walk he takes a brisk walk to finish the silly challenge. A few hours pass and though he’s fine in health and could walk longer, he stops. He complaints about the pain in his legs, the aches in his body and wonders when the task ends. He rests for a while and walks again for a short time. He then decides to jog for a while and see if he can arrive at his destination sooner. After another hour, he stops. He rethinks the original request realizing he doesn’t know if he’s suppose to find the end of the path, finish it or something else. He walks again and screams to see if anyone would respond, no one does. He continues while his frustration grows and with every step he feels more insecure in his purpose. He feels defeated as he talks to himself about the hours and days lost pursuing these tasks. After a few hours they come for him and take him home. Glad to finish the challenge yet upset that he most likely lost it, he asks about the goal of the last task. They respond, the goal is to walk.
Author’s note: There is nothing that drives a person madder than to not know where they are heading, even if they can see and all they know is they cannot do anything at all but wait. The waiting eventually ends, even if not in the outcome we expect.
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.
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.
Fear thy name is mother. Motherhood begins with incredible news and devastating warnings. The first advice may come from this first fear, loss. Many women know too well the fear and the reality of loss. Their tender hearts encourage the first time mothers even though they need encouraging as well. However, the first motherhood advice can overshadow the wonderful news to delay for the ‘just in case’ situation.
“Sandy, the first 12 weeks are critical, make sure you take care of yourself and get informed.” The doctor places his hand on her shoulder and shakes her husband’s hand.
“And congratulations.” He walks away.
“We gotta get books, magazines and subscribe to all the things they have listed on the resource list.” The mother to be jumps from the examining table.
“Alright, we got time.” Her husbands stands up from his comfy chair.
As they walk out, they see an acquaintance.
“I didn’t know this was your doctor too.” She says while filling out forms.
“Mrs. Gaines here is information about the first trimester and our contact list.” The secretary speaks to the mother to be.
“You’re pregnant, congratulations, but I’m sure you don’t want anyone to know yet right? You probably just found out and you never know…”
“Miscarriage sweetie, its like every 4 out of 5 women miscarry on their first.”
Sandy looks about the room. There are three pregnant women in their last trimester waiting plus the old acquaintance. She would be the fifth or fourth.
“So who should we tell first?” He holds his phone as he takes a picture of the positive pregnancy test.
“No one, I guess.” She sits in their sofa and drops to the side to rest only half of her body.
“It’s our news, don’t let the hag scare you.” He watches space out. “Even if, we shouldn’t be afraid and hope for the best.” He holds her again for another crying session.
Author’s note: When blessings come, a voice of ‘well meaning’ warnings may crush the joy of them. Believe the blessing, enjoy the joy and don’t allow fear to overshadow the good things.
TTC=Trying to conceive
(Half the battle of motherhood begins in understanding what every other mom already seems to know, the acronyms).
The trying fun begins, where some don’t even have to try. Time passes and the fervent expectancy turns to worry. Glowing sticks for measurement and accuracy reign in the closet. When temperature is best and the color shows just right, what was fun can become a task. A list of recommendations and traditions, all to expect that glorious moment when you flop head to head over a toilet. For some a journey of self discovery begins as they find themselves insufficient in their efforts. No amount of hugs can comfort those that cannot, but the love of those around can shine a different perspective and new hope. Others discover that in time their desire is in fact shocking and scary.
“Once you’re there you can never take it back.” The TCO woman remembers what a coworker said earlier that day.
At home she tests once more. Their third attempt in a few months and its positive.
“Is that right?” She asks her husband.
“Yep.” He walks away and sits on the couch.
She holds the positive test in her hands shaking and sobs.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be a mother.” She sits down on the floor crying.
“Yes, that’s what we wanted. Isn’t that good?”
“But I don’t know if I’m ready.” She bawls.
He walks toward her, laughs and holds her.
Author’s note: It’s funny when you find yourself where you want to be but have no clue how to live after that. Anyone know what that’s like?
She thunders to announce her entrance. Darkness surrounds her day. She begins with intensity to bring forth the message with accuracy. She emphasizes every word adding inflections where none are necessary. She puffs herself to higher heights reaching the ceiling and rain begins to fall. On the verge of tears she apologizes to suggest that she is sensitive to intentions but strong to correcting. Her thoughts she expresses without hesitation and makes known her frustration. Great hail falls on the heads of those who did not mean to offend her but peace offerings are too late. She is explosive and vindictive. Lightning is only one of her anger responses. Her past brought aggravation, disappointment and constant failures. Labels on her define her and she fights them but feeds from them. Time can only heal her wounds if she allows it. All her trials can strengthen her if she admits to weakness, seeks help and looks at her own silver lining. On a daily basis all who surround her keep their steps light and speak soft words in hopes to reach her heart, to turn this sensitive reactive cloud to an inspiring approachable fluffy one.
Author’s Note: I was once this cloud, overly sensitive, missing out on good enjoyable moments because I was hurt with every word. How do you encourage a cloud without responding to their lightning and thunder?