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Jan 28

Keep the head down

Posted on Wednesday, January 28, 2015 in Family

I had a baby, did I tell yiz?

Ever since that first moment I knew I was pregnant I hid her, even before I took the test. I knew she was there and I didn’t want her to be. Isn’t that awful? I felt guilty for introducing a new life into this already over-burdened world, into my already over-burdened family, an over-stretched entity that seems due to explode at any second. And yet, part of me relished her as my girl, my secret, I loved her from the start like nothing else. It just felt like she was premature, it wasn’t her time to be here yet. I hid her bump under baggy clothing, willed her to be small so that nobody could see her. Counselors didn’t really understand, when I tried to bite that bullet.

And then, after too short a time, she was born.

She was so tiny, way smaller than my other kids were at birth. I did that. I willed her to be tiny. They looked at me with sideways looks and made me stay in that awful hospital for an extra night. She was having none of it though, she fought, and fed, and fed and cried and wanted nothing but to be held. I wanted nothing but to hold her, and that still remains. I give her my everything, my breast, my heart, my almost neverending gaze when I can spare it.

Within one month, she’s already almost twice the size she was when she was born, out of sheer stubbornness and willingness to overcome the awful spell I put upon her. She also shits like a sailor, to put the icing on the proverbial revenge cake.

But there is so much to be done!

I ignore the messages reminding me that my EMT skills are eagerly awaited.

I ignore the calls from friends who want to shoot the breeze because I can’t foresee any time in the future when a single coherent sentence could possibly escape my lips. Sleep deprivation is something I’d laugh about but is really not all that funny.

Laughingboy is being managed mostly by The Accidental Terrorist whose back is already under strain; he gave way this evening and finally collapsed in pain. Laughingboy is 48kg dead weight now so that’s hardly surprising even with the hoist system we have. Both will have to remain bedridden until I can figure out what to do.

Sir Fartsalot is four years old now, and has taken to peeing himself at weird times, exorcist style. Not being a child psychologist, I can’t figure out what to do about that other than mop him up and hug him and send him on his way.

Puppychild is ten years old. She figures out how to socially manipulate people and is very good at it. So, whereas she would normally be torturing and wise-cracking members of her family, this evening she has been following me around asking me what she can do to help even though she has a real cracker of a strep-throat infection on her right now. I fought with her to go to bed through her stubborn insistence, she knows too early the definition of a parent’s lot.

Through this crazy evening I’ve been itching to write a fictional story through which I can vent this inability to tear-up and scream. It would have been an amazing story in which our heroine admits her weakness and becomes stronger through some unbelievable and unexpected entity and would leave you, the reader, breathless.

There isn’t such a story however there is only this, a vague stop-gap of an apology of a story. The truth, that’s all.

My first born for a song by BellX1 performed at the Olympia

Bring on the comments

  1. Kirk M says:

    Well, this may sound incredibly stereotypical but I have to say it. She was meant to be born and you were meant to carry her. Who knows the whys and wherefores of it? If she wasn’t, it wouldn’t have happened.

    Now I’m not talking about god or anything like that. I’ve seen too much of life to ever believe in any sort of deity (although I have no problem with anyone who does believe in this sort of thing) but I’ve also seen enough of life to know that if “life” means to have something come to pass–it does. And right where it needs to be.

    Okay, I know that doesn’t sound very comforting but know that good thoughts are winging there way to you as I write. If you step out your door with a net around 10:00 PM tonight you should be able to catch them up as they fly past. ;)

    PS: You write so much better than I do.

  2. Celine O' Connor says:

    I so love the writing skill, looking forward to holding the wee one next week, a wonderful feeling, amazing little creature. Hope Tom will be here too.

  3. Ginger Mick says:

    My love to the wee one and to you.

  4. Brianf says:

    I have to agree with Kirk and say she was meant to be. With that said I also believe that God won’t ever give us more than we can handle. You and your family are always in my thoughts and prayers.

  5. K8 says:

    You’re right of course, this kid is teaching me a lot right from the offset and she’d made it clear that she’s here to stay. Her older siblings are constantly arguing with each other, but at the same time brilliant with helping with household tasks.

    I hear arguments in my sleep, I have nightmares that they’ll grow stunted. But, when I wake they give me kisses that I wish I could save somehow.

    Kirk, I totes m’goats felt the love that you sent. I feel that love a lot. Neighbours are beautiful entities, patience is a virtue and is fuelled by people insulting me in a nice sort of way reminding me that to have a laugh about life is probably the best solution to everything it has to throw at us.

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