I forgot to mention that this past Monday I made another labour run to the local Hospital.
My Ironing lady runs breathlessly into my framing room, “We have a problem”.
“Yes”, I reply annoyed at the interruption.
“My sister’s about to have a baby and the ambulance hasn’t arrived yet. Please take her into town.”
So off I dashed, pregnant fairy groaning on the backseat. I arrived at the hospital at 9-30am. When I arrived home, Noza walked into my framing room at about 10am and told me the baby had just been born and it was a little girl. We arrived in the nick of time. Don’t think I could have coped with a birth on my back seat.
But I have vowed to my staff that when we get back from Jozi, I’m organising a sex talk on the farm to re-educate and remind everyone to u-condomize .We’re having a baby a week on this farm. Born to unwed young mothers.
I’ll organise the talk but the rest is up to them.
You know that bitchy term” Get a life?”. Well I seriously think it should apply to most statuses I read on facebook. Most conversations I’ve had in the last few days. Please, I implore you, “Get a Life?”
School is NOT the only conversation I want to have with you. What? Who is copying your products? Get a life! Please. You’re the only one who cares…
It’s the hard fact and hard truth. You’re the only one who cares. Tell me about something meaningful in your life. Something deep and truthful. Something you’re yearning for and afraid to reach out and grab it.
Let me begin.
I’m so terrified I fall pregnant. Excited and terrified at the same time. It’s so difficult to think I might be making another child like Molly. Or making another child like Aidan. I can’t go through all that pyn and leiding again. I’m almost 40 for fuck’s sake. What dumb fuck has a baby at almost 40? Yes, I know, most of my friends and most of Europe! I’m still scared.
I think a spiritual intervention is needed to calm me down and reinforce my faith. You see I’ve prayed for a normal baby. And if you ask God for something, you must have the belief and faith that it will happen.
Oh my hat what have I done? This place where I’m standing, is so terribly frightening.
and very, very brave…
As Shirley Valentine once said in a dark dingy semi-detached house in London: “Well tickle my tits ’til Friday”.
Seriously, tickle my tits ’til Friday…I’m on a roll and framing up a storm today. Getting through such a lot of work. Each framing job is a responsibility as each artwork/ memorabilia is sentimental or valuable to each person. I often have a panic attack and have to talk myself into calming down and tackle each job slowly and calmly. I never EVER said I was completely sane!
Talking about sanity…I went to see a psychologist earlier this year for three sessions. I’d been feeling particularly anxious about having another child with Molly being cerebral palsy and all…and needed to talk through my fears. I am no closer to the truth within myself, as I was when I started. I did however find out that seeing someone professionally is:
- SO healthy
- I’m not as fucked up as I thought…very little in fact
- I give too much to the kids and John with little regard to myself
- it’s stuffin’ expensive
- it’s so nice to talk about myself for an hour
- she said I must have another child
- I’m still fearful as I was initially, to fall pregnant, even though I know I should get over it.
So in short, I pray and I wait. I wait for an answer to fall out the sky or for someone to come to me and tell me they’ve had an apparition that I have another normal child(actually someone did). Or God told them in a dream to tell me that I must go forth and have another child and he/she shall be normal (say in a sombre serious voice).
Forgive me for this cliche, but only time will tell. I pray I have the enormous courage and faith that will have to be with me for every second I carry the baby. Well…if I decide to.
I’ve just had my mom and cousin spend a few days with me. My mom had to come up for a Grandparents day at the school. My mom is not a conventional Grandmother. She doesn’t own a tea set, doily or any Moondrops or Vanderbilt perfume. Or anything with a lavender scent. Bless her.
She is a young granny. 61 years of age. She probably swears a tad too much and is an absolute drama queen.
My cousin has just found out that she’s pregnant. She worked on the cruise liners for 5 years and met a man, fell in love and made a baby. Very complicated. By all accounts he seems very keen to be in her and the child’s life and phones and emails on a daily basis all the way from Mexico or on the cruise liners if he’s on a contract. My cousin is pure of heart. A really good person that spends a lot of her time preserving good energy and seeking calmness. A complete feathery stroker. Semi-precious stone, crystals, natural healer kinda gal. She will walk out of a room if she feels a negative energy and will only enter when she feels the positive energy return. Her feathery stroker nonsense goes COMPLETELY over my and John’s head. We accommodate it and tolerate it in the house because she is seriously a good person.
Unfortunately, babies have a tendencies to knock the bullshit out of anything. They center you with no pomp or ceremony or warning. They are relentless and demanding of you. They allow you to dream and romantacise whilst you are pregnant and then have the ability to jolt you with reality when they are born. They pummel and mould you into being the best mom that you can possibly be. They suck the memory out of you and fade everything around you into insignificance so that all you think about is them and all you do…. is for them.
But besides all this adjustment and difference, my cousin is in for the best ride of her life. The best joy. The best love. The best that life will throw at her. I wish her luck…and I’m so happy for her.