What to Accept When You’re Expecting

 

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She scrolled through google results full of bullshit and babies

Google Result 1:
googleresult

Sign # 8
“Can’t zip up those skinny jeans?”
It’s okay, skinny jeans were last season.
The measuring tape around your waist rates our ability to make love stay. It is on a 1 to 10 inch scale.
I will learn how to cook.

Google Result 2:
quiz

Am I pregnant? quiz
Question 2
“How’s your mood?”
You brood over multiple choice’s, looking for one that says “a nightmare from which I am trying to awake”
The voices of Joyce’s are not an option.
You click “I bawled my eyes out while watching something more like How I Met Your Mother than Titanic”.

When I met you, soon to be mother, I was fully aware that babies were a result of romantics.
And I know you hate when I’m overly pedantic,
But I touched your stomach last night when you slept, and it made me dream about violently throwing men overboard to make sure you and whatever is in (there) have a comfortable place on the life boat. With a warm blanket, hot chocolate, and a soft kiss goodbye.
I watched myself smile as I went down with the ship.
It was beautiful.

I woke up,
alive.

You quickly learned to stop trusting sad moms on google and found a book on a local library shelf:
what-to-expect
What to Expect When You’re Accepting (the fact that you are no longer a little girl. You are having one.)

Chapter 1
“Pregnancy Shopping Checklist”

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checkGlider or rocker- You will read Berenstain books in this chair until your lungs give out, because didactic bears in the dark think it’s important to go to the dentist, have picnics, watch less TV, spend more time in trees, and so do you.

checkFeeding Supplies- You will pump life into her. Give knowledge to her. Speak kindly to her. You feed mouths, brains and confidence, you are the fuel that feeds wishes, it is important to know this.  

checkA crib and mattress- Also known as: Imagination fortress. Surround it with pictures of princesses. Above it, pin up a wishlist. Every time you see her smile while she sleeps write “I wish I never had to miss this”. On her cheek plant a soft kiss. Make a mental note of her miniature wrists.

They will one day grow to hold a watch that counts away your minutes.
Before you turn out the light,
above her crib,
Write down
“I wish I had more time with you”.
Make time.

checkLast but not least: high chair and car seat- You long for the day that both of your eyes meet. You yearn for cheerios in food trays and chocolate covered laughter in a dirty kitchen. You obsess about cleaning the back windows of your car,
because whenever you buckle her in she gets to see world for the first time.


In case you were wondering. I am guilty as well.
I too have told secrets to my iphone.

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Result 5 (I’m not kidding)

dose

In response to this, I created an electronic event on my calendar. Set nine months from now.

A loud alarm that will wake me from sleep and the screen will read,
Cross out wish list above crib.
Turn it into to do list:
Write:
Build time machine.
Travel back 10 months back from today.
Give her a hug that makes her feel like it is going to be more than okay.
Touch her stomach.
Whisper in her right ear
“You will never have to google alone”.
Google together.   

I clicked Alt-left (back), still looking for answers
Result pages full of babies and bullshit.

Click page 26.
This poem.
“What to Accept When You’re Expecting”
Scroll down to the last few lines because poetry is boring.

“Accept that your world is about to change.
Instead of living in it, you will give this blue planet to a beautiful baby and a woman you love.
You are now the dusty book cover of Atlas Shrugged.
Expect to panic and cry.
It gets hard sometimes.
But also expect smiles.”

Expect smiles when she reads aloud to you on that rocker, about those bears and bike lessons. Or when she runs outside on 2 different Christmases,
ten years apart,
with a fire in her eyes and wheels of freedom in the driveway.

Siri: Show me the image of a father.

Google Image.
International symbol of father.
A Man smiling.
Socket wrench hoisted victoriously in the air
on the day his little girl understands

that she no longer needs training wheels
                                                       to explore the world that he gave to her.

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Reese Weatherspoon

A Place in the Sun

7150640-sketch-two-girls-lie-sunbathe-on-a-beachI will squint in the bright sun as it damages my corneas and strains the bright blue seas, locked away for eternity in my undying blink.

I will develop lines in the shades of “Ass white” and “Forearm brown” in uneven blotches across my skin and you will tell me I am ugly but I know,
I am not.

I am just an artist’s pallet of gold, and cream. And I will kiss every damned freckle left on my shoulders, by the gaseous goddess of the sky.

My emotions will stretch and pull at my skin’ until it can no longer hold itself up under the gravity of the universe.

And society will punish me for every smile I endured when I grow older, because I will have lines from the corners of my mouth to my nose.

The sun strikes once again with the feet of crows as they claw at my eyes leaving scars of bad days and bright skies.

Sores stitched deep from when I was young; when a drop to my knees, everlastingly stung.

The scrapes on my thighs from when I was older, left by something with a less innocent closure.

When you see them you will not ask if I’m okay, and if you did I would not tell you any way. Because I WILL NOT speak a single word to the already damned.

When you, you were the boy who caused half of them to expand.

And when you are older, you will shrivel and die.
You’ll probably forget me, as you lay there and cry.

But the pain you left on the girl with the holes in her jeans,
and her dreams
and everything else you did to her
will remain.

But isn’t it a shame how the world is to blame?
And the girls of society broke your fragile frame.
I’m sorry boy, for the ones who called you fat.
I saw every single mark they clawed into your back;

And the images that are permanently written in ink, under OUR undying blink.
Boy, don’t you ever think?
I saw how you used me for closure.
And I saw how you were afraid of exposure.
And for sure; I saw that look of fear in your eyes when you taunted me with foul words and demise.

No boy… it wasn’t a surprise that you hated society.
But under your drunken sobriety of pain and anxiety.
I was just the cockroach you stepped on under the sole of your dirty converse shoes.
I was your escape, but in the end
didn’t we both lose?

 

Dear boy… come enjoy the warmth of the sun.

-Dream Weaver

Venomous Butterflies

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I saw her yesterday.

Her piercing eyes sent venom through my veins.
Drops of poisoned emotions that rushed through my blood, soon morphed into butterflies.
They got trapped in my stomach and, out of fear, began to flutter
clawing at me from the inside out with blood stained talons.
They eventually made their way into my heart.
I could have swore it skipped a beat.
My breathing became rapid, hands, wet palms, shaking,
I clutched at my chest because apparently the butterflies have razor teeth
and they like the taste of my lungs.
But still, I don’t let her see how much her venom gets to me.
She doesn’t know.
She doesn’t notice.

This feeling is a very strange one.
Is it… new
Jealousy?
No, new
Loathing?
No, new
A… Crush?

No, just new.

We were singing when it happened.
Completely surrounded, there were hundreds of voices and mine was camouflaged within them.
My face was just one of many.
There’s no way she would notice if I just took a peek every now and then.

New.

The spotlight must have hit just the right way, the song must have hit just the right note, but at that moment it seemed as though angels had come down, claimed her as a goddess, and carved her into pure perfection

New.

Even though she stood as still as stone, her eyes flicked and fluttered. Her hands clenched and relaxed with the rhythm of the song, but she wouldn’t dare let anyone see.
Because when the angels spend so long making you a masterpiece, you try not to disappoint.

New.

Some say her blood is thick and cold and runs black through her veins.
I’m fearfully curious.
There’s no way she would notice if I just took a peek every now and then, right?

Her eyes.
Mine.
A meeting.

New.

Brief but deadly, here comes the venom.
I’m not surprised when my body goes numb, I’ve already been warned a million times.
With pins and needles, she personally sews sweet thoughts and painful feelings into my brain.
I wish she would get that sly smirk off her face, because every time she pulls tighter on the thread she somehow becomes more beautiful.
This is all too new and I want it to go away.
Why do I keep looking?

I saw her again today.
She’s… Leaving
But that’s okay
She didn’t know.
She didn’t notice,

And I didn’t tell her.

-P. Nerd