I had so much great feedback from peers and a mentor through the process of writing this piece. It would not be the piece it is now without that feedback. I thought the initial short piece I wrote was great. I had little intention of revising it much. But thanks to several suggestions, I was able to develop this piece to be more descriptive, coherent, and complete.
One of the pieces of feedback that helped me move from the last draft to this one, was to mix my thoughts in the piece with the physical action. I initially had my thoughts and the action entirely separated. Which wasn’t terrible, but it made the piece feel choppy when reading it; like it was separate pieces that didn’t really need to be together. So to fix that, I took that suggestion and attempted to blend everything that was going on together. The result is coherence. The separate pieces didn’t make as much sense when placed next to each other. Together though, they flowed well and make for an easier read.
I also added in several quotes that I’d heard throughout my pregnancy. These were statements that always annoyed me when I was pregnant and I thought it relevant enough to include in this piece. But really, I know most of these people had the best of intentions with those statements. I think that being pregnant and coming to terms with the fact that my life was no longer about me was a process I realized through what people were saying to me. I knew, of course, that my life was about to be turned upside down, so I was annoyed when people felt the need to tell me. It doesn’t bother me anymore that people only ask about my daughter, in fact, i’d rather talk about her than myself. But when I was pregnant, I was still clinging to the concept of having my own life separate from my daughter, at least until she was born. It felt good to get this type of process on paper so that I could look back and see how silly my attitude was about the matter.
Within the piece, I was very descriptive about the morning that was unfolding. My mentor asked me why, and it made me wonder why I was including so many descriptive details about my cereal, my thoughts, and what I was doing that morning. I think, when I look back on this morning, that I remembered these moments so clearly because it ended up being one of the best days of my life. I was really very lucky not to have any complications whatsoever during labor, and actually quite a good experience. So when I look back at the start of the day, I just think of how I had no idea that that would be the day I would meet my daughter. So this piece turned out to be a recording of those last minutes before every second of every day would be about her, and not about me.
Something that I discovered about myself and about teaching writing while working on this piece was that spare time is key. Time, that is specifically set aside to work on a piece that you want to make the best version possible, is so important. I did my best work on this piece when I had a few hours to myself one evening. I started working on a few other assignments, a few ideas came to me, and I pulled up my piece and began revising. If I can provide some time during school hours for my students to get started on a piece of writing, they’ll hopefully find themselves with some ideas to go back to it and add later on. I recognize that not all students are that interested in carving out time out of their Saturday to work on writing. For me, I often think a task is much larger and difficult in my head before I actually start it, so I procrastinate. If students have some time to start working in school, hopefully they’ll have time to realize that the assignment isn’t as big and tough as they think. And perhaps they’ll have some more motivation to work on it if they’ve had time in school to get the ball rolling. I’m not entirely convinced that this last revision is my final piece, but it’s all I have time for now.
I’m open to any questions or feedback from anyone who reads this piece. I’d like to work on it a bit more, when time permits.
The Beginning of the Beginning
In the kitchen, I pull out a bowl and set it on the counter. I pour my maple cheerios and they make tiny clinks as they hit the ceramic. I remember finding out that I was pregnant. Kylie was the size of a cheerio. And now I’m going to eat about a hundred of them. You think about weird things when you’re pregnant.
The suction breaks from the refrigerator as I open its door and grab the cold handle of my vanilla almond milk. I don’t have anything against regular milk, I just love the sweet and creaminess of almond milk more.
The condensation on the milk jug makes me think of that awful saying people love to recite to pregnant women: “You’re glowing!” Like yeah, I know I’m sweaty. You don’t have to dress it up in a pretty word and tell me every time you see me.
I pour the milk over my cheerios and select a spoon without any water marks from the silverware drawer. If only people were as picky with their words as I am with my silverware.
“From behind you can’t even tell that you’re pregnant!” I just want to ask, “Can you tell I have brown eyes from back there?” Why do people feel like they need to comment on the bodies of pregnant women?
I bring my breakfast into the living room and sit down to eat. I watch the cars passing by as I bring each perfectly cold and crunchy bite to my mouth. I finish, sip some of the milk, and peruse Facebook for a few minutes catching up on the latest news on people being offended, overgeneralizing perpetrators, and the debates lined with irrelevant insults.
I try to ignore my outspoken thoughts and take in the peace and quiet knowing that these moments are numbered.
Out of nowhere, I feel and hear this strange pop in my enormous pregnant belly.
What was that? Time slows down while I process this strange sensation. It sounds kind of like when you squeeze a water balloon until it pops in your hands. I probably would have heard a splash if I wasn’t sitting on the couch. I feel the fluid. I realize that my water has broken and internally laugh at how hilariously wrong I’d been last week when I thought my water had broken. We had grabbed all of our hospital bags, called the to-be grandparents, and we all met at the hospital ready to meet baby Kylie. After a short visit and few tests, we were sent home.
This was unmistakable though.
“Oh shoot!” I jump up off the couch and teeter as quickly as I can to the bathroom. At least, as fast as I can move with my legs squeezed together like a four-year-old doing the potty dance.
“Don’t worry, women rarely break their waters until they’re already in active labor”, they told us in our birthing class. They said that only 10% of women break their waters spontaneously. Well that was helpful.
I sit on the toilet, but of course it’s too late. The fluid was sitting in puddles on our hardwood floors, it soaked up the bathroom rug, and most of it sat right on my legs in my sweatpants. I take the warm and sopping wet pants off and throw them on the light green, but now dark green, rug. After a minute it seems the leakage has stopped so I dry my feet as best I can by stepping on the dry spot of the rug, that I’ll have to wash anyways, and walk to the bedroom to slip into some new pants.
I call my husband to tell him that “todays the day!” He asks if I need him home right away, but I felt fine and thought it might be a little while before the contractions start. So, I told him to take his time. I figure I’ve seen women in movies have their water broken a million times. No big deal. I’ll just clean up and get my bag together while I wait for him to get home.
I get down on my hands and knees (and belly which sits on the floor) to clean up the puddles from our hardwood floor. I try to stand up but am paralyzed by an intense aching in my belly. Have you ever had gas cramps? Menstrual cramps? You know, the ones that make you have to sit down, breathe, and call into work? Times that by like 10. I instinctively take larger breaths like you do at the doctor when she’s listening to your heartbeat, except bigger. I feel like I’m doing some sort of goofy torture yoga. I blow out the air slowly and smoothly as if I were trying to blow out trick candles on a birthday cake.
Do you get a birthday cake for giving birth? It seems that would be the most appropriate time for a birthday cake.
The pain increases with every thought. I hold my belly and start to wonder why women do this to themselves in the first place?
And then I remember the sonogram where we got to see Kylie yawning and rubbing her eyes, like we were interrupting her beauty sleep, and the pain disappears like some sort of sick magic trick.
“She’ll be here before you know it!” Those happy bystanders would say.
I finally get to my feet as more liquid trickles down my pantleg. I watch it stream down the inside seam of my pants.
That’s it! I laugh to myself as I throw my pants in the dirty laundry bin. I decide that I might as well walk around in a towel. I’m not trying to impress anybody.
You never see this part in the movies. You see a quick leak of water and the hospital. But what happens in between?
I figure I’ll wait for my husband to get home before I shower, just in case. I would hate to fall or have anything crazier than what’s already happened happen while I’m in the shower!
Instead I refer to my list of last-minute items to grab for our trip to the hospital and…
AH! Another one! Gosh it hurts. Wait a minute? How long has it been since my last contraction? It doesn’t seem like it was that long ago. I lean on the counter over my list.
“They grow up so fast.” I hear in my head as I wince through the pain. What a stupid thing for someone to say. They grow up as fast as anybody does. It’s the pace of life we all grow in.
And then I remember finding out I was pregnant. My husband and I were so excited. We still are. A beautiful little angel for us to care for and teach about life, we are so lucky to have this life. I never want to take it for granted.
“Oh.”
You think about weird things when you’re pregnant.
Writings about Writing 