Is it ironic that you find yourself here, at my quasi bitter woman/mom blog on the eve of this much revered holiday, the holiday we anticipate while clutching bouquets of fragrant buds, and boxes of expensive truffles, the holiday in which we always seem to fall short, even with the help of Hallmark writers, of expressing our gratitude to the one person who we can call mother? I think you’re here for a reason.
So, okay maybe you have two mothers…or two dads and no moms, or a step mom and so on, but someone grew you, carried you around as you kicked and leaned, putting pressure on her bladder, jabbing ribs, making veins in her legs bulge and her breasts stretch, becoming heavy and full as they prepared to nourish your soon to be expelled (through a too small opening) self. Someone did that…and I’m here to be the voice of every uterus that ever contracted. I’m not here to dwell on the nostalgia of your youth…I’m here to say that growing you was not fun, it hurt, and you owe me…her.
I won’t pretend to know everyone who reads my blog. You may or may not have been worth those months of agony, but regardless of how much of a pride inducing treasure you were when you came tearing (yes tearing) into the world, bellowing and moaning about the doctor slapping you on the back, at the very least, remember the nine month sacrifice of she whose uterus housed you in those formative months when you choose between the one pound box of chocolates or the two pound box…what did you weigh at birth?
May 8, 2016, One Word Daily Prompt: Sacrifice~ <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sacrifice/”>Sacrifice</a>