Burn

“Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are.”
― Charles Bukowski, ‘What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire’

Tis the season of pregnancy announcements. More specifically, two of the most gorgeous, most sweetest girls you ever met–girls who’ve never had a legitimate ‘fat’ day, who never needed braces, who never rub anybody the wrong way. I’m pleased for them both. But, I had a moment where I felt insecure like I did back when I was on the track team in junior high school; a talentless misfit who excelled at sucking. I didn’t mind training but I hated sucking…I think I kept doing it (track) because I was hoping I would magically morph into a thin, popular, athletically talented young woman (with boobs).

That never happened. I didn’t “morph”.

What did happen, was that I got really lost (sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll). And then I started to realize that “fitting in” is highly overrated. And I let my colors fly. And I made lots of friends. And I got (bought) boobs. And when I found a sport I loved I realized that I am a very talented athlete. I learned my strengths. I reconciled my weaknesses. I stopped wanting to be someone else.

I surely didn’t “peak” in junior high or high school (or even college). I’ve had to work hard and roll with the punches to become the person I wanted to be, mind-body-soul.

I’m never surprised when things don’t come easily to me. Things like boobs, athleticism….pregnancy…babies. But honestly, I’ve adopted the motto that “something is only worth what we must sacrifice to attain it”. And I’ve found it to be SO true–the things I’ve had to work the hardest and sacrifice for are the things that I’m proudest of–the things that ultimately define my character.

And dammit, I’m fighting like hell for motherhood. I’m up in Dr. Angel’s office EVERY day, getting my shots and monitoring, for 14 days per month (3 months in a row now). I won’t put anything in my mouth that might contain gluten–no matter how hungry I am. Even when I’m tired I force myself to do 30 minutes of cardio because I’m convinced it helps my “follicles grow”. I bicker with Freedom Pharmacy at least once a month. In the last year I’ve spent thousands of dollars out-of-pocket to see specialists and run tests, all in pursuit of justice for my lost pregnancies and the desperate need to protect another pregnancy. I f*cking stick an enema up my butt every night to quell the inflammation in my colon. There’s really nothing I won’t do to have a baby.

So while those two beautiful, blissfully ignorant ladies (swans) announced their pregnancies on facebook at barely 11 weeks gestation (as only a fertile would)….

I proudly walk through fire on my path to motherhood. I see myself as a Phoenix that will rise from the ashes. Swans are simply beautiful. But the Phoenix is the epitome of strength, beauty…and (re)birth. And Phoenix’s don’t do pregnancy announcements–that sh*t is for swans.

"Phoenix from the ashes" by Christoph Jaszczuk

“Phoenix from the ashes” by Christoph Jaszczuk

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29 thoughts on “Burn

  1. Awesome post…and who needs swans anyhow 😉 If shit ever hits the fan for any of those swans they won’t be able to handle it ’cause they don’t know what it’s like having to deal with big obstacles in life.

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