A low growl emerges from either side of me. It seems to rumble in the same way hunger threatens me. The growl slopes down to a still whistle, which turns into a simple sigh. Though it disrupts the depths of my dreams, it doesn’t bother my sleep. I can keep calm and float back into that wonderful rest I need. I’m dreaming again of the things I forgot to do when the mood changes within the dream. The common things I dream of end and I’m aware of wild animals surrounding me. They draw closer to show their anger towards me. They first let the heat of their breath fill my lungs and they growl by my ears. I close my eyes waiting for a death I cannot escape. A single bite to my neck and I have nothing else to share of my tale. Then the growls subside and silence wakens me. I open my eyes to look around. Another nightmare finishes and the reasons for them I do not know, except to remind me of the stress of these last days. I curl to my side and drop the weight of my exhaustion unto my dearest body pillow. My back aches and I roll again to my back staring at the ceiling. I readjust the pillow, the blankets and close my eyes. From my feet all the way up to my chest, I hear again the rumble. This time it rises to new volumes, shifting its growl to croaks, hisses and gargles. It occurs to me that as I hear these disturbing sounds in the back of my mind, perhaps the instigator lies next to me. I think of the ways that I use to wake him and help him with his snoring, when I feel a tug at my left arm. I ignore it for my thoughts consume me and are of greater importance. I must figure out how to sleep and kill the beast that awakens me. The gentle tug becomes a push. I feel my entire body slipping sideways and when I become the woman overboard I wake up to scream.
“Sorry baby, you were snoring, so I had to turn you.” A grumble from the other side of the bed.
He turned me to my side.
I guess the monster is closer than I think.
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 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?
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?