Then it said: I know that the remedy for this is writing.
I'd planned to say that writing grounds me, always has. When I'm working on a writing project I have direction and focus. I'm a better me when I'm writing. I'd planned to quote Franz Kafka, "A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity." I'd planned for all of this to kick my butt in gear. Even though it's hard to write when you're throwing up in the kitchen sink. I was going to power through and make it happen.
But then last night I woke up in the middle of the night and instead of talking about writing or writing about writing, I actually wrote something. I'd been thinking of my son's birth and a particular memory made me cry into my pillow. Instead of wallowing in it, I got up and wrote it.
After fourteen hours of labor, including two hours of
pushing with nothing to show for it, the doctor said, “This baby is either very
large or in a strange position,” and recommended a C-section. Shortly after
1:30am I held my nine pound, two ounce baby boy with a head two inches larger
than the average baby. He was chunky and perfect with a full head of dark hair.
The next morning, I sat up in the hospital bed, still
exhausted from the night before. My fine, straight hair was already hanging
limp and greasy around my face. I was swollen all over. My belly still looked
quite pregnant even minus the nine pound baby. I was holding my son when the
student nurses and their supervisor asked if they could come in the room. I
said sure.
The supervisor put a hand to her chest and said in an awed
voice, “Oh, you look so beautiful. You’re just radiant. You are such a
beautiful new mother.” I started crying. I knew what I looked like. My sarcasm
meter started to go off. It was such an over-the-top, almost ridiculous compliment
but when I looked at this woman’s face, all I saw was sincerity and kindness.
I still rate it as one of the kindest things anyone has ever
said to me. Perhaps this woman, who spent a lot of time with women who’d just
given birth, said that to every new mother and maybe the student nurses told
every mom that their baby was the cutest one in the nursery.
I sure hope so.
Even in the middle of the night, writing is never the wrong answer.
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