My First Writing Assignment


A writer (and truth teller) that I really admire, Janelle Hanchett (The Renegade Mother) , offered to run her writing class FO FREE y'all  on FB during this COVID crisis.  After jumping for joy over her generosity and kindness I signed up and the first lesson last week was about finding your voice.  If you've ever read my blog you'll quickly notice that this piece I wrote is for the first time ever, NOT in my voice, and yet oddly enough it is.

My husband has some reservations about me sharing such a personal story so I hope it's not too much for you to handle.

The assignment was to write about a time where we had to find inner strength.

This is my story.




"If I have to bring my baby home in a box, I'm coming home in one too!" she sobbed into the hospital phone.

Sixteen hours earlier a distraught mother, still raw and ravaged from the recent birth, wept uncontrollably as the operating doors swallowed up her newborn baby girl. The still warm baby booties and beanie that the mother clutched to her chest offered little solace as the chasm between her body and her baby's stretched further apart now than ever before. For 10 months they were joined but that was no longer.

Birth was a bitch. Had she never been born, the little girl would have lived. She was safe inside her mother...her heart beat only for practise but the real circulation was her mother's. Mother nature, that crafty creator, had played a nasty trick by twisting and transposing cardiac arteries of the tiny developing fetus and now it was up to mere mortals to fix Mother Nature's mistake.

In two, maybe three hours, she’d be back in the mother’s arms with an anatomically correct heart and would be suckling happily at the mother's breast.

Soon, the mother consoled herself, soon.

But the universe had other plans.

The new father and mother were shown to a waiting room outfitted with a few threadbare chairs and a large loud clock forming the focal point of the room.

Tick.

Tick.


Tick.


Was it possible that the hands on the clock were moving backwards? 
It seemed that they made no progress at all. 

Finally, painstakingly, two hours passed. No word from the medical staff.

Tick.


Tick.

Tick.

Another two hours crawled by.

“Any word?,” the mother asked the nursing staff.

“Nothing yet.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

As the anxiety level rose disproportionately to the hours passed the mother approached the nursing station again.

“Any word?” she asked, the fear in her voice practically palpable.

“Nothing yet," was the reply.

Tick.


Tick.


Tick.


Tick 

Tick 

Tick


Tick

Tick

Tick

"ANY WORD?!!" she gasped out, her lungs crushing under the weight of her fear.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" the nurse murmured as she picked up the phone to speak to the OR. Her dispassionate face became framed with concern. "Okay, I'll let them know," she uttered into the phone.

She paused.

Tick


Tick


Tick


"There's been a complication."





k

T

c
k

T

c
k

"The surgery is over but her pressures are too high and they can't get her off the heart and lung machine. They've tried almost everything with no luck. I'm so sorry."

And then time stood still.

Like a dream the universe swirled colors of black and white before the mother's eyes. Was this really happening? Was this precious life that she'd nurtured beneath her heart never going to get the chance to fulfill her destiny? How could the world stand by and let this soul depart it without complaint? What about the friends who would never know that one true buddy, or the boy who would spend his life searching for the soul mate who'd already returned to heaven? How could the mother go on without ever knowing the sound of the child's voice, the feel of her little body crushed in a hug against her own, or the see the light in the child's smile?

She couldn't.

She just wasn't strong enough.

She wasn't built to endure that kind of pain.

"If I have to bring my baby home in a box, I'm coming home in one too!" She sobbed into the hospital phone to her mother.

The grandmother, now facing the possibility of a dual loss--daughter and grandaughter, paused a moment...

tick

tick

tick

"Can I remind you of a little something that might help change your mind?' she said softly.

That little something had her daddy's black hair, gorgeous mocha coloured eyes, and dimples deep enough to plant carrots in.  She had made sugar cookies for her new sister and was eagerly waiting to meet her.

She had already been waiting for six days...an eternity for a two year old. 

Tick

Tick

Tick


It was then that the universe swirled colors of red, orange and yellow before the mother's eyes and lit the fire deep within her, giving her the strength and endurance she lacked.

It was right around that time that the universe also revealed her secrets to the team of surgeons and cardiologists who went on to save that baby's life.

And after enough time passed that baby came home and then time passed very quickly as the family added another child to the group.

Tick,Tick,Tick

The baby in this story is now 20 years old. Her big sister is 23.  And her little brother is 
16 years old and over 6 ft tall.

The mother in this story?


Well, if you hadn't figured it out already, it's me. 
And like every other person on earth my partnership with Mother Nature is a constant challenge.

Some days she hits like a bitch.

And some days I do.

I've learned from the best.

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