She’s Carrying The World

Babies & Their Bellies

 

womanpregnantbelly
Chayene Rafaela|Unsplash

I have this thing for pregnant bellies. I love them! For as long as I can remember, I have been drawn to the wonder of a woman’s belly — how it can be home to a miracle growing inside. Currently, at work, there are two co-workers who are pregnant. Both are carrying boys. I have an army of boys in my family, little soldiers who get into mischief and carve out places in this world with their seeking fingers. I connect with children, even while in their mother’s womb, we bond.

A few weeks back, my co-worker (the one who is due in May) was walking up the hallway toward our front desk and I was heading back from the radiologists’ reading department and we sort of met in the middle. I calmly asked, “May I?” as I pointed to her belly and she smiled as bright as anyone could and almost shouted, “Sure!” I placed my right hand just above her navel and began talking to her little one, granting him blessings straight from my heart. I thanked her and shortly after when we were both settled back into the groove of our positions, she called me to let me know that her little one started to kick as soon as she walked away.

I laughed, then smiled. At the end of my shift, I welcomed a few tears. The beauty of something as monumental as bringing another human being into this world hit me without my knowledge. I said softly to myself, “I wonder if they know that history is beginning in their bellies — they’re carrying the world.” I think of how things would have been had I brought my own little one into this world — if I ever could and a variety of emotions hit me at once, from every angle. I used to think that I was useless, that if I was not giving this world a part of me, that I did not matter. I used to believe that without a child of my own, I was not fit to be called “woman.”

Now, when I see this co-worker, she smiles. I ask her, “How’s the little one?” and she always says, “He’s busy growing. He’s good.” Her belly is shifting from a basketball to a combination of a football and beach-ball. She’s all belly, at a quick glance, nothing else seems to be shifting.

My other co-worker has baby written all over her. The sweet boy growing inside of her is making his presence known. It seems as though the little one is saying, “Get ready, world! I am going to be nothing you expected, but something that you need!” I have not given her belly a talking to, not yet, but I will — if allowed. I look at my own belly, wondering if it is fit to grow a miracle like most women — if it can create change. And, I think it can, it is the completing part of it all that I am told would be problematic. I want to reach out and call to the little soothsayer, sage, or savior nearing what will be my co-worker’s last trimester. I want to tell him to be all that he can be and so much more.

I watch her, my co-worker (her due date is sometime in April), she races about our work-place on a mission. It is hard to catch her in slow motion. She has so much energy and I cannot help but feel like instead of exhaustion and swollen feet and frequent bathroom breaks and odd tastes in food, her little one is far more mature and is simply settled in the womb until he is called away. I have never seen someone still as active for ten straight hours at six months pregnant before. She is nonstop. I feel as though her little boy is saving the best for his debut. He will be a reckoning. He will be a force.

We better get ready.

Both of these women are doing something I have chosen not to, that I, in the grand scheme of things, cannot. To say that I am moved each day that I get a chance to see them would be an understatement. I have an incredible amount of respect for them. After all, they are carrying their own little worlds inside. Each of them preparing for motherhood at their own pace.

Each of them preparing to share with all of us, the gift of life.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Amends

Taken during my walk on my lunch break. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I have forgiven you,
you no longer threaten my growth.
I know that in order to flourish,
in order to bloom, I had to give you
the sunshine you needed and acquire my own.
It is your decision to stay bound,
connected, linked–desperately clinging to
another who only lip-services you and does not
honor your heart.

I do not want that for my own,
so I chose a place for me, for my heart
where both of us can be loved accordingly
and fully without shame.
I hear my heart more now.
I listen.
It has been
s  h  o  u  t  i  n  g 
and I have ignored it, but now–
now I know what it needs
and that is not you.

A lie would be to say that
I don’t miss being a thought of yours,
that I don’t still dream of you,
that on occasion, I don’t get teary-eyed.
I do.

But, I am choosing me.
I know I will not let me down.
This is my letter of amends to you,
my offering–to give you what you have
been wanting,
freedom from commitment.
freedom from love.

Under The Weather

A shot from Winter Storm Diego, December 2018.

I am inside, swaddled in my favorite blanket,
lounging in the chair, feeling like death
is coming for me.
What is it about Winter that causes
it to bring the worst cases of sickness with it?
I am Thera-flued, honeyed, and zinced up
to my nose, trying to keep my senses in tact.
Old-Man-Winter is waving his cane
in our faces, cackling at our woes.
He is having fun while our bodies
are betraying us.

First snow, then sleet, then freezing rain
and I think to myself, “make up your mind
already!”
The stillness of my home shocks me.
I am even more quiet than normal
and if I attempt to speak, my voice disappears.

If the blues have come in search of me,
they will find me catering to a stuffy nose,
watery eyes, a sore throat, and painful ears.
I hope they bring good company.
Bad influences are not welcome. 

This Is What I Have

Really, this is me most days after work and especially on the weekends. I’m pretty boring, but I’m me.

I cannot offer you fancy things, I am quite frugal and I budget accordingly, however, I do make it a point to buy quality items on sale, that will last long. I am all for quality over quantity.  I am soft-spoken, but outspoken. I am an introvert with extroverted tendencies. I love to read, write listen to music, and contemplate the beauty that is life with its sometimes ugly demeanor. I have a voice. I try to use it when speaking about issues dear to me and my community. I love LOVE, the gift of it, the ability to accept it and share it. 

I am not a difficult person but I can do difficult things well. I am a problem-solver, I love finding solutions. I majored in Psychology and I have a minor in Writing. My heart is in my mind and my mind is in my soul. I am all mixed up, but I am perfectly blended. I am a lover of women and of men, but can see myself settling down with a woman (marriage) before I would with a man. Being bisexual has its perks, however, downfalls hover as well. I don’t need anyone or anything that isn’t bringing me happiness. My days of allowing piranhas to attack and rid me of my skin are over. 

THIS IS A NEW DAY!

I don’t expect anything from you that you aren’t willing to give, so if you do not show me that you care, please do not be surprised when I bounce. I am not sticking around for people who lack the ability to become one with the term “reciprocity.” I respect my heart. You should too. I love order. I do not mind a little chaos, but I reserve the right to put my hand up when too much of it enters my realm. That is a surefire way to throw me off balance. I am an excellent cook, have been told that I am an incredible lover, and I treat every single day as an opportunity to learn, grow, and become a better person. 

This, of me, is what I have. If you need more, I may not be the one for you. And just like a new day dawning right after the old, that is okay. 

I will know when my person arrives, if my person arrives. He or she will have what I want and need and I will not have to go searching for pieces to add to him or her. He or she will already be whole. 

He or she will be perfect for me. 

Nothing

Nothing: Originally shared via Instagram.

If there’s an US, I should not have to keep showing you who I am. And you should not make me feel like who I am is problematic for US. If this happens, nothing is sure to be the result of who we are: the ending.