Right around now I would have been 8 months pregnant. When I think about it, I freak out a little bit. Mostly, the idea of me being pregnant or visibly pregnant--all plump with a busting bigger than a bowling ball protrusion extending from my abdomen--makes me cringe and cry.
Actually, i have not mustered up any tears for that which is not: not being pregnant;not having kids; not really wanting kids anymore, but I have thought a lot about it all lately.
I've thought about where we've been--me and my k and where we are going. I've thought about how maybe the miscarriage was really my fortune. Because this morning I was trying to use the keeper (I'm really striving to transition to no waste during my period; k's been using her cup for years, but when I've tried before well) and I kept fiddling around down in the wetness and coming up empty handed with blood all on my fingers and in my nails. I squeezed the damn thing and pushed, but I am tight. My hole is all bound up with muscle and years of being a mostly non-entrance top.
And I thought to myself, as I pushed and shoved and couldn't get it in, how in the hell would an infant human ever come out of this hole? How would I have been able to give birth when I cannot even get a silicone, smooshy, bendable, small cup up inside me?
And then I started thinking about how it would have been 8 months and then I got not sad but lethargic about it all.
Now as k's grandma s is fading from this earth minute by minute and I think about family and growing old and reproduction and hetero-normative bullshit and us(me and my k and our love and tenacity in the face of adversity after adversity), I really feel kind of numb. Like how can I think about this all anymore. How can I make decisions or even desire anything much more than what is just now here before me.
Without sounding all Buddhist, cause I am so far from being a Buddhist, I can only take the minutes as they unfold before me right now. Not that life will always be like this, sometimes anticipation is my greatest friend, and dreaming is my lifeblood, but lately just being able to make it through the day and take whatever news about all of the shit with work, or the march toward death unfolding before us, or the family conflict that comes with that march, or the conversation about children and the future, or the fact that I am taking a drug that makes me shit my brains out on a mostly daily basis,or the fact that k's dad wants some ill-equipped people to care for her other grandmother (the one not quite dying at least not yet, but almost died last year). I'm trying with all of my might to steady myself for the three months I have have off from work (this starts after 5:00 on Friday) and just let the shit roll and me slide side car through it all--with a grin on my face when capable of it.
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2 comments:
hey chica. one more day until your sabbatical -- that is amazing! i really really hope that it's going to be a restful and rejuvenating break for you. the three months will just fly by -- so make sure you take some time each and every day for just you. even when all the other shizzit is brewing around you.
'cause you might not be the 'baby mama' but you are so obviously the 'world mama' -- taking care of those around you, in your family and in your community, and taking on their worries as your own. that's what makes you so wonderful AND so extended.
just wishing you and kk a few months to find each other's arms and souls again in the midst of the fires around you -- they'll still need dousing so make sure you're not burned in the process.
you guys are rad and i love reading your blog still. keep on keepin' on! looking forward to hearing about the things you get up to when you're able to breathe a bit more.
xo f
f, thank you for your kind words and encouragement. I really take what you say to heart and will try to transform the ideas to reality.
hope you are well and that life is bringing you a whole lot of love.xoxo
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