I’m rebloging this post for my daughter, she is due tomorrow and could really use a good laugh. She is also a teacher, so I think she’ll like this… (Cheer up, it will all be over soon, xxoo Mom)
Some of you may remember from my last post that my daughter is expecting her third child. What you didn’t know is, she’s expecting this week! Her official due date is Saturday (26/05). The hospital is a good hour drive from where we live and since I’ll be watching her other two children, I have to be ready on a moments notice. There is of course always the possibility she’ll go over her due date, but she says, “NO!” She feels fat, fed up and wants the baby out.
Most women feel this way towards the end of their pregnancies, some even from day one. I suppose its natures way of getting us prepared for the task at hand… Birth. Lets face it, if we were perfectly content being pregnant, how would we ever be able to face labor?
I loved being pregnant. From the early inner secret to the growing anticipation of birth, I basked in contentment. Never feeling lonely and always reminded by the stirring within that I carried the future. A women’s belly swollen in its final stage of pregnancy gives an aura of magic, for soon there will be a newborn baby in her arms. With my maternal torch passed on to my daughters I have surprisingly found that a grandmother’s love in every way rivals mothers’.
Whenever my granddaughter from America comes to visit we read Charlotte’s Web, which is one of my favorites. She’ll climb on to my lap, rest her head against my chest and I’ll hold the book so we both can see – her the pictures me the words. I read aloud and with the top of her head right under my nose, the sweet smell of her hair reminds me of her mother, all nestled in my lap reading Charlotte’s Web a long time ago.
Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch. -E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web
My daughter (the one in the pig tails) recently posted this picture on facebook, it was taken on Mother’s Day 1981. When I first saw it I smiled, seeing myself again at twenty-three-years old, adorned with three beautiful children brought back happy memories. I had just given birth to my third child and that baby lying on my lap is now waiting to give birth to her third child. Where do the years go?
My heart swells with pride remembering my children at this tender age and now knowing the wonderful people they have grown up to be. I also see a slender arm and a smooth face, but there is unfortunately a flip side to this picture…
Behind the Farrah Fawcett hairdo is a girl, trapped in a controlling and unhealthy marriage. Weighed down in responsibility and much to embarrassed to let anyone know. If you’re wondering how bad it was, I’ll tell you…
Throughout the pregnancy I begged my doctor to sterilize me after the birth. At first he wouldn’t even listen, but after pleading at every visit and discussing all other options, my hopeless tears got the best of him. He performed the surgery immediately after the birth and I was left barren at twenty-three. A desperate act, of a very desperate girl. Now take another look at the picture…
You never know what secrets are hiding behind a smile in a picture. Since my story has been published I’ve surprisingly received numerous messages from different women, some I know, others I don’t admitting abuse.
Six years after this picture was taken my life took a hard turn and I was thrown out into another direction. I was later able to have the surgery reversed, and was blessed with two more children.
I was fortunate enough to get a do over, not everyone’s that lucky.