Fruitfulness: A Blog Flashback

Blog Flashback:  September 8, 2007

My friends are prolific. Look around me… there are babies here or babies coming. They are everywhere and I can appreciate it on some levels.

Really, even I can appreciate it.

There is truly is something beautiful about pregnancy. Even I am prone to rub the belly of a pregnant woman. There is something truly attractive about the curvature. Pregnant women are beautiful. I still remember the first pregnant woman who I touched. I think it shocked me as much as it did her. She snuck up on me and somewhere deep in my system, I reached over and I rubbed Tara’s belly. I’ll never forget it and I’m glad that a primal instinct took over.  Tara has been dead now for several years and when I think of her, it’s always one of the first memories to bubble up. 

Me? Pregnant? Only once I thought I could have been diagnosed with this condition. It was 2003. I had screwed up on my birth control. Looking back, I’m sure that it was my alcoholic party all night never sleep lifestyle that truly interrupted my natural system. But, birth control screwed up. I was a week and a half late. The inflicting fellow? He had been out of town for two weeks and who knew if he would even return.  

I remember I was laying in my uncomfortable bed in Parksley. The horrible wallpaper. Matching bedspread. Buried underneath my red sheets. My blonde hair wrapped my body all the way to my waist. I laid tucked underneath bedspread, sheets, and hair naked. Both hands placed on my abdomen. Scared to death I was going to be my mother. Scared to death if I should tell him or just walk away. Comforted in the thought that if he knew he would care for us financially. Financially? Is that all we needed? A paycheck?

I rolled to my side and pulled back all the bedding and stared at my flat stomach. I touched my belly button as if it was a route of communication. “I really don’t know if you are there, but if you are… I don’t know if you want to be here. I’m a drunk as I’m sure as you know. And your paternal figure… I’m not sure if he’ll if recognize you as his. He gave me this speech once about how my people were inferior to his. I don’t know how he’ll feel about you. I barely know how he feels about me. I’m real sorry that I’ve screwed up in such a way.”

It was a week later that my body produced the physical proof that I wasn’t pregnant. At least anymore and I was glad. Glad for whatever was listening to me that day as I laid in bed naked, that it knew I could not provide for it what it truly needed.


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