“A Mother’s Words Are Lasting Scars” Published at One Forty Fiction

I had a Twitter flash piece published today over at One Forty Fiction called “A Mother’s Words Are Lasting Scars.” It was just a little thing that I jotted down one day as a fragment of poetry. Gave it a second look last week, sent it out, and here we are.

Hope you enjoy it. 🙂

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Rolling Over When Pregnant, Or the New Hardest Thing To Do Ever

If any of my readers are pregnant out there (or have been pregnant), you’re likely familiar with the drama that is rolling over in bed. I should rephrase that–attempting to roll over.

If you’re not familiar, let me acquaint you. A task that used to be as easy as breathing, as second nature as the REM cycle, becomes a process of gargantuan proportions. At 38 weeks and 5 days (but who’s counting?), it’s become impossible.

Here’s me as I clutch the source of my insomnia.

Let me paint you a picture: I get ready for bed. I situate a myriad of pillows–one for my head, one for my shoulders, and one long body pillow that rests between my knees. I lay down on one side, the left, because that’s the best apparently, and cram and shove pillows all around me. I grunt, groan, and curse. Once I find some semblance of comfort, I breathe a sigh of relief, exhausted.

If I’m lucky, I fall asleep. Let’s pretend I’m lucky. I doze off. I’m asleep, praise Cthulhu! Two hours later, I awaken due to one of a few scenarios: I have to pee, my leg is twitching, my arm has fallen asleep.

After lying still for so long, my body has stiffened into a corpse-like slab. There’s no way I’m falling back to sleep like this. I have to roll over. It starts with a scooch. That’s all I can really manage. Lifting my top leg sends shooting pains down my leg and up my back. Dammit, I curse beneath my breath and try not to wake my husband. I pull the body pillow up over me and shift to the left. I’m on my back like a downed turtle.

At this point, I’m winded and struggling to keep blankets on me while doing all of this shifting, sliding, and pulling of pillows. To get on my right side, I have to slide backwards, lest me and my body pillow tumble off the bed. I take a deep breath and ready myself for the effort.

Oof! I lift my hips and push my body backwards. My hip groans, my legs creak. My belly is so heavy it just sags there onto the bed like a feed bag hanging from a horse’s face. Much more adjusting follows. I align the pillows and try to find a place for my arms. After what feels like forever, I settle and try to relax. Now it’s a race to get back to sleep before my body aches and demands that I roll over again.

It’s a sleepless, whiny battle and I’ll be happy to have this part of the motherhood experience over. Sure, I love feeling her wiggle in there but I think I’m ready for her to be her own separate entity in the world and for me to have my body back under my own control. Because this is just getting ridiculous.