I am writing this as I sit watching my child gets shone by the blue light, IV drip with antibiotic on his left arm. A sign of a small human-- unhealthy, persevering, confused, tired.
The one observing-- is now a mother. But what does it mean, to be alone yet wanting to be accompanied by the hopefuls?
Yes, I am tired. I haven't been home since Friday morning. I cried in between the feelings of wanting to scrub every inch of my body with soap. And to be clean, for a longer while.
That my breasts are sore from breastfeeding. Constantly feeling dirty, because they do not wash the bathroom/toilet stalls on Monday and now things reek of urine and blood, pile of maternity pads - soaked in blood and female fluids, of many kinds, the loops, the disposables, then somebody left their catheter with urine stream -- uncollected.
Is that the modern motherhood attached to many scientific lab tests that rob you of comfort?
They put catheter in, took blood samples, draw swabs of your this and that - only to tell you bad things?
But perhaps one cannot be build ready for all this. What kind of God?
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