life, as such
exactly one year ago today, i first suspected i was pregnant. i threw up on my way to work, 6 a.m. on a train bound for grand central. i still have the text message joaquin sent me back when i told him.
life is too hard sometimes, and i don't know why we have this idea that things are supposed to be fair. life is not fair. it's not easy, it's not kind, it's not pleasant. it hurts so bad dying seems like the only thing, yet this innate need for survival buried somewhere keeps you breathing.
i haven't had a haircut in over a year. my hair is to my waist now. i hate it most of the time, but it's easy to just let it be. every time i seriously consider getting it chopped off, i look at my little sister's hair--down past her butt--and i'm quite jealous and decide i want mine just as long.
having a baby is hard. really hard. it's a little terrifying, after, to realize that you will never be able to be alone again. you will always be attached to someone in the world. you will always be needed, till you die. your life will never be yours in the same way again, you will be bound by desperate instinct to your flesh, your offspring. when the baby is sleeping at night, you'll lie awake just to make sure she's breathing. you'll wake randomly, panicked because she's so quiet, sure something is wrong. the worst thing in the world you can imagine is her death. the thought of it is so terrifying that you pray to a god you don't believe in to please keep her safe. everyone says "i never knew i could love anyone so much," but you don't really think that is true. what you feel for this creature isn't love. it's not the love that you've thrown around before. it's not the love you feel for your friends, or family, or lover. it's a deep, intense pain, it's instinct, something so deep it goes beyond emotion. love is a choice. you have no choice in this feeling. biology dictates that you protect your progeny with every part of your being, and you bow to it. you look into her little face and wonder why you ever thought this would be a good idea. then she laughs, and you know it's because she had to be. and then you hate yourself for even hinting at wishing her away.
it's like someone says, life only cares about life. the need to reproduce becomes to overwhelming that you cry with needing it. and after, your body is worn and broken, your life will never be the same, and you are slave to a new human being. nature has her way with you. she only cares to carry on.
sex after birth is strange. for months the notion was beyond terrifying. i thought i'd never want anyone to touch me, ever again. i don't think trauma is a strong enough word. it's different than it was before, but not like i expected or imagined. everything is so tender and new feeling. it's painful in a sweetly aching way, like it hasn't been since the first times. a friend told me that sex was better than ever, after the birth of her son. she was right. it's much more intense. the feeling is deeper, pleasure more accessible.
my milk lets down mid-coitus. it's pleasurable as well, unexpectedly. i think this is as close as a woman can get to understanding male arousal. my breasts become full and heavy, they ache and need to be eased. let down comes when they feel so heavy they hurt, i can feel it rise to the surface, a tingling, prickly sensation. we are covered in sweet stickiness, and i find it wonderfully amusing.
that my body makes milk is fascinating to me. to watch the rivulets stream from my breast, it is amazing. now i understand why so many women brag about it. it's fantastic, really, that the body is so complete.
life is too hard sometimes, and i don't know why we have this idea that things are supposed to be fair. life is not fair. it's not easy, it's not kind, it's not pleasant. it hurts so bad dying seems like the only thing, yet this innate need for survival buried somewhere keeps you breathing.
i haven't had a haircut in over a year. my hair is to my waist now. i hate it most of the time, but it's easy to just let it be. every time i seriously consider getting it chopped off, i look at my little sister's hair--down past her butt--and i'm quite jealous and decide i want mine just as long.
having a baby is hard. really hard. it's a little terrifying, after, to realize that you will never be able to be alone again. you will always be attached to someone in the world. you will always be needed, till you die. your life will never be yours in the same way again, you will be bound by desperate instinct to your flesh, your offspring. when the baby is sleeping at night, you'll lie awake just to make sure she's breathing. you'll wake randomly, panicked because she's so quiet, sure something is wrong. the worst thing in the world you can imagine is her death. the thought of it is so terrifying that you pray to a god you don't believe in to please keep her safe. everyone says "i never knew i could love anyone so much," but you don't really think that is true. what you feel for this creature isn't love. it's not the love that you've thrown around before. it's not the love you feel for your friends, or family, or lover. it's a deep, intense pain, it's instinct, something so deep it goes beyond emotion. love is a choice. you have no choice in this feeling. biology dictates that you protect your progeny with every part of your being, and you bow to it. you look into her little face and wonder why you ever thought this would be a good idea. then she laughs, and you know it's because she had to be. and then you hate yourself for even hinting at wishing her away.
it's like someone says, life only cares about life. the need to reproduce becomes to overwhelming that you cry with needing it. and after, your body is worn and broken, your life will never be the same, and you are slave to a new human being. nature has her way with you. she only cares to carry on.
sex after birth is strange. for months the notion was beyond terrifying. i thought i'd never want anyone to touch me, ever again. i don't think trauma is a strong enough word. it's different than it was before, but not like i expected or imagined. everything is so tender and new feeling. it's painful in a sweetly aching way, like it hasn't been since the first times. a friend told me that sex was better than ever, after the birth of her son. she was right. it's much more intense. the feeling is deeper, pleasure more accessible.
my milk lets down mid-coitus. it's pleasurable as well, unexpectedly. i think this is as close as a woman can get to understanding male arousal. my breasts become full and heavy, they ache and need to be eased. let down comes when they feel so heavy they hurt, i can feel it rise to the surface, a tingling, prickly sensation. we are covered in sweet stickiness, and i find it wonderfully amusing.
that my body makes milk is fascinating to me. to watch the rivulets stream from my breast, it is amazing. now i understand why so many women brag about it. it's fantastic, really, that the body is so complete.