Tuesday, May 22, 2007

L otra vez

es por la luna, nuestra madre.
The moon absolutely comes in high on my gratitude list. If anthropomorphism is attributing human qualities to animals, what is it when we attribute lunar qualities to humans?
  • I love looking at the oceans and the craters on the moon's surface. And I imagine that my pockmarked ovaries with their clusters of cysts and scars look as beautiful as that. I imagine that I am as natural as she is

  • I love that she looks as though she changes shape and size. In truth she is as she always is and it is my perspective that changes. I imagine that I am always as I am and perspective changes but I simply am.

  • She is the epitome of deep connection. Of movement yet closeness. I hope I am the same.

There are things about Khubz's birth I never want to forget.

  • I labored for 52 hours before she was born. Much of this was through an NNEDV meeting in KC. The real gift was that my sister was there with the iowa contingent. Walking in the room at 8:30 that morning I scanned the room for K but I didn't see her. I was saying hello to someone from Missouri when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around into her arms and as she hugged me she kept repeating, "you're crazy. you're so crazy" We were effectively just as close to my town, hospital, partner and doctor as we would be if I had gone in to the office (a 30 minute commute anyway.) We got through the end of the day with me pretending to pay attention to the meeting. I was scratching down times on my pad of paper as I felt contractions with no pattern emerging.

  • One coworker let me know that I was periodically wincing.

  • Another coworker slipped me a note suggesting I run out to the bathroom to stimulate my nipples and masturbate

  • K said I was rocking back and forth in my chair and so she assumed everyone could tell I was having contractions. That or I was so disturbed by the meeting that I was self-soothing.

  • I knew immediately that I would be taking my sister with me when I left. I did. Hamdillah.

  • I called Scully from the road (once we found the interstate amidst all the vanishing on-ramps in downtown kc) Meet me at the hospital. After getting off the phone with her smiled imagining her reaction on the other end.

  • The hospital told us to go home and labor some more. Scully, K and I interpreted that as, "go to Mass street and get some yummy Arabic food. That'll convince that bebe to come out into the world!" And we did. Yummy.

  • My mom and my dad were on their way down from iowa. Let me say that again. My mom and my dad were on their way down. hamdillah, again.

  • The nightgown we brought to the hospital was the most hideous manifestation of polyester and itchy starchy lace and it was not something i would ever wear. Why? Why??? Deeper in labor I would scratch my fingernails down my neck and across my chest trying to claw the nightgown off of me.

  • I remember being on my knees in the bed at the hospital and hanging my arms around Scully's shoulders as I moaned. I moaned.

there's so much more.

i should make a separate post. Stay tuned.

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