Christopher Part Two

Saturday morning. It’s already 7:14AM, don’t have much time to write before the babies wake up. Alan is awake and is playing something on the IPAD breaking my concentration. My coffee is boiling, should I add more cream? Yes, good idea, now it’s more drinkable. I can write, for a minute. Thinking about the first time I wrote about Christopher, last year, February, the first month I started my blog. I thought that I wrote a lot, when I went back to read it recently I found a short absent piece. The experience of getting pregnant at fifteen and hiding it for nine months was traumatizing. It deserves so much more than a short, quick, piece. It affected my life in so many ways, it will need to be a series of entries, through time, time to process and respect. The memories first resurfaced when I was trying to get pregnant, Christopher was born without a brain and died six months after birth, I was sure that would happen to me again. The doctor assured me it was an anomaly, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck in utero, just unlucky. I carried Christopher with me for nine months, he heard all my thoughts, my cries, felt my isolation, my fear. Could he process any of this without a brain? Or was he like a giant worm in my womb? Living off my blood, he kicked me, I hit him back. I punched my stomach, crying, desperate. I had to hide my naked body, seal it off. Four months into the pregnancy, back flat on a park bench, having sex with a boy, he asks me “are you pregnant?” I say no. I feel sick, dirty, I sneak back into my house, down some Nyquil. Next day put on my stretch pants and a big sweater and go to school. Living a lie, hiding everything that was true, revealing emptiness. Only five more months and this will be over. And right now, present time, I have to end this Blog post. I can hear Jack and Fiona, awake, calling “Mommy.” Alan just headed down, I still hear them calling “Mommy” I hope Alan changes the diapers for me! The sun just peered over the horizon line and through the clouds onto my face, I see spots. Now it’s fading back behind a dark grey cloud. I don’t want to get annoyed if Alan didn’t change the diapers, I’ll let that feeling be like the sun and the cloud, fade back. It’s not worth the stress. I will go down now.

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Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist