The Twinkies

It has been over six months and I still sometimes cry when I think about the caesarean. I cry when I see scenes of vaginal birth with the head coming out, when I see the newborn placed on the mother’s chest.

I didn’t get that. I was cut open. My children were removed from me. I was sick. It was affecting them. It was absolutely the right choice to make and I would make it again instantly. That reality doesn’t mean the caesarean wasn’t a loss.

I didn’t get to feel them being born. I didn’t get to see them being born. I have only hazy memories of their birth. Someone held a baby over the curtain for me to see. Was it J.? Fi.? I think I remember both but I can’t be sure. Can’t be sure. It was the most important moments of my life and my memories are spotty. I remember J. crying. I remember the doctor putting the needle in my spine. I remember B. sitting by my head and me talking about Macbeth. But I can’t be sure whether I remember F. being held up for me to see. I think I can. I think, but I am not sure.

I don’t remember holding them for the first time. I don’t remember feeding them for the first time. All of that is lost to me in a morphine haze. I have bits of memories. I have pieces. I have some scattered photographs. But I don’t have a coherent narrative and, without that, I feel fragmented. Some small part of what it means to be a mother, a woman, I don’t have. And we don’t get to do it again. I will never get a vaginal birth, now. I will never push a baby out. I will never be aware of holding a newborn.

And so I mourn my section, looking at my babies and trying to tell myself the story of their birth, trying to remember what happened next.

So, I was tagged by the Stirrup Queen to tell you six strange things about myself.

1. I hate the phone. I hate to talk on the phone, I hate calling people, I hate answering the phone. It borders on a phobia.
2. I spent an entire year of my life studying Old Norse.
3. I have supinated feet.
4. I love to read. I’ll pick up a book I’ve read before, open to a random page, and start reading. Once I am reading, I am oblivious to my surroundings. I once missed the city bus (twice) as a child because I was reading.
5. I am incredibly vain, but also so lazy that I can’t be bothered to wear makeup.
6. I own a spinning wheel and a loom.

If you haven’t done this already –go back to your blog now and tell everyone six strange things about yourself (and let me know you’ve done so, please.)

I would have sworn that the banana was only getting on F., not in her.

Because we have, you see, made progress in the wonderful world of solids. After a less than enthusiastic start F. took to sweet potato. Applesauce was not such a hit. But spoons! Spoons are the best. How she loves spoons. I can’t put the spoon in her mouth, oh no! I have to hand it to her. She grabs it with her fist and shoves it into her mouth, right side up. She then proceeds to chew on it, usually with the food that was onthe spoon slowly dribbling out. Or so I thought.

We tried bananas yesterday, and today I got indisputable proof that at least some of the banana went into her.

F.’s first tooth has poked through her gums.

This post has been moved to HERE.