Questioning...

I just had to talk myself down from a full blown panic attack.

The day started with my hopping happily from bed and throwing on clothes, adding a little makeup, perfume, things I haven't done in eleven days. I was hoping for a certain visitor. Instead, I got an excuse...a familiar one. Even so, I felt my zest for the day begin to wane. I contemplated washing my face and letting the day happen as it would...

Thank goodness for great friends. One stopped by as planned, another a delightful surprise. I soaked in their energy and said a thank you that I wasn't going to spend another day alone in my head. I was rolled down the hospital corridors and out into the sunshine for a few lovely minutes. I breathed in the fresh air, fed the birds, let the warmth of the sun cover my skin, and felt blessed.

Enough to return to my room and feel determined to make the sunshine a daily treat for myself. It seemed that I had tricked my mood into turning bright...even as, on the inside, I wondered at how long I could lie to myself...

It is more than difficult to be confined when there is so much world outside. I realized my summer would end and my Fall would begin within these walls. And that if I could not keep my cool, my easygoing nature, it would get harder and harder to get people to come see me, free me from these walls, if only for 30 minutes a day.

I lay in my hospital bed uncomfortable, in some pain as my son learns his feet and his fists, and my uterus stretches to give him the room he more than deserves. I try and fail to not think of those other six babies, the men I was with when I made them, when I lost them...and how different this is, knowing that for six months and six days, I grew this child alone. To raise alone. Because, in this, there is no partner to hold hands with, to sing the harmony of the songs I make up for my baby, to do the heavy lifting of keeping me centered.

When I was instructed to brace for what would be the sixth attempt at an IV in almost as many days, I  felt something on the inside of me shake. I heard a voice echo in my head "did you really think you were brave enough for all of this? To take all of this? To feel ALL of this?" My empathy made me feel for the poor Indian woman who was only doing her job, as tears rolled down my face . I didn't want her to feel bad. I just couldn't stop myself from feeling bad.

I waited until she left, to slide off the bed into the restroom. I wanted to collapse on the floor, to sob my heart out. Instead, I sat on the toilet and tried not to make too much noise.

I wondered, not for the first time, why this would be the pregnancy that lasted. Why other times in my life, more stable and secure times, was I unable to conceive then? Why, when I had no clue where to go and how to survive this time in my life, would God finally grant me motherhood...

I am grateful for it. I promise you I am. I just honestly don't know how to do it.

And truthfully...I don't know who to ask.

-L.

Baby Love

I ended up in the hospital last week after what was clearly a stressful July, given the state of my home life and potential work options. After being well and truly scared by doctors and nurses alike, I decided that the time had come to stop being afraid of motherhood, and the responsibilities that come with it. I realized that all big decisions concerning not just myself, but also my son, would be deferred only to me - and that was frightening...

I am not known as the most decisive of people.

But if it came to it, to having to make the decision of whether or not to continue care on my possibly premature son, or to allow for a closure to his life and suffering, there would be no room for hesitation.

I honestly expected that my motherhood journey would begin when we met - face-to-face - in the delivery room. I have since realized that I've been his mother since I first decided he would be my baby.

I love him. I did not know I could grow love within my body, especially after years of self-hate and loathing. I did not know the lengths I could go to in order to preserve that love... But I have. And I will continue to do so because he is so worth it...the idea that I will get to know this person, created in me, blessed to me, is too wonderful to deny.

I always knew that I would love my children. But I had no idea how big this love could grow.

- L.

Baby Steps

When life decides it is time for you to change your course, it does not fuck around.

Honestly, a year ago, I did not believe I would be here. Unattached. Unstable. Unusually quiet. And still on the inside. But also. Growing. Changing. Morphing into my next stage. And more scared than I would like to believe.

Motherhood did not come to me as I was promised. No loving embrace. No whispered dreams of the making of kings and queens. Instead, she came to me in the dark, under a moonless sky,  with a cold rain marking the night as unremarkable as possible.

I immediately forgot, even as my womb began to remember.

Six babies who never quite made it here. Years of wishing, pleading, hoping, and yes, once, even begging to be allowed to make this journey. Years of being denied, threatened with lovers who would rather walk out, given ultimatums, even having the gift dangled in front of my face, only to have it snatched from me.

That may have hurt the worst. Being told, being made to felt that I was unworthy of motherhood. A hurt I have yet to recover from, as the words came from someone I loved, trusted, and changed my life for.

So now I walk into motherhood alone, but surrounded by women who are holding me up when I am tired, when I feel I cannot go on, when I forget that I am both blessed and loved. I have made family where before I felt isolated. I have found, through them, the strength I was told I always had.

I will be brave for my son - even when I am weary and the world is hard.

If nothing else, I will show him what a gift a strong woman is.

I do not relish the idea of single-handedly growing him from boy to man. I hope to fill his life with amazing role models. I know the world will not be kind to him. Fatherless black boy. Beautiful, talented, loving, kind - those will not be the words all paint him with. They will see him as a threat, no matter how well-mannered, well-spoken, or well-principled he is.

But I give him his name in hopes that it will remind him of his power.

His strength. His place in the world, not just the corner of it where he is born.

My son is not yet born, but I see him clearly as a man I would be honored to shake hands with one day.

I ask that his steps be ordered, and that he recognizes one day that the courage he has to move forward is one gift that will come from me.

Even, and especially, those baby steps.

With love,
L.