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[angstew]

Heart vs. Head vs. Me

I’m writing this because I feel like I am in one of the toughest spots of my life.   As many decisions & choices as I’ve made in my life, none of them have ever weighed so heavily on my heart & on my mind.  I had my son Oliver 13 months ago, with 2 months sober, living in a recovery house.  We very quickly had to find an apartment, and learn how to be parents.  Fortunately for us, we have been able to do that fairly well.  I have 2 years sober, a beautiful son, a beautiful life.  I knew after having my son, that I wanted to have more children, but hadn’t exactly planned it so soon.  About a month ago, I found out I was pregnant again.  I loved being pregnant, I loved growing a little person & feeling him moving around.  The end of it & the birth was insane, but the rest of it was incredible.  If I come back to reality though, we are in no way ready for another child.  COVID is still alive & well, so we haven’t been back to work yet.  We were incredibly fortunate to be getting unemployment, and managing to live off of it. However, that has now ended.  My fiance is looking for work, but I have been struggling with severe separation anxiety so leaving my son doesn’t feel like an option yet.  I also feel like it’s cheating on my son.  If I have another baby he goes on the back burner.  The new baby gets all the attention, all the new stuff.  I have spent so much time reading about having 2 children under 2 & TONS of people say their kids are close, that it was the best thing that happened to them, but it’s different when it’s your family.  I want to think that’s true, but what if it doesn’t go that way?  What if my son doesn’t adapt?  What if he doesn’t enjoy being a big brother already?  Doesn’t he deserve to be the only one for a while? Get all mommy & daddy’s attention?  Be the center of our universe?  But am I keeping him from being close to a sibling? What if he loves it?  They’d be close enough in age to virtually do everything together.  My mind is always on a swivel, going from one side to the other.  I put him to bed & look at him and think there is no way I can do this again right now...and then I feel the cramps & the nausea & think “How can I go through with termination?”  I truly don’t know if I can physically, emotionally & mentally handle going through with an abortion.  I have always been very pro-choice, but now that I have the choice it’s not an easy one to make.  How do I look at my son, and then terminate this pregnancy. I knew when I was pregnant the first time, that I was having him, so why is it so much harder this time?  Financially, we’re not any better or worse off than before.  We’re actually probably BETTER equipped this time, having a house, and more time sober.  I somewhat know how to take care of a baby at this point (I didn’t even know how to change a diaper or hold a baby before)  

I have looked into medical abortions, read women’s experiences, and have tried to get as much information as I can.  I read as much as I can about second pregnancies, raising 2 toddlers, giving birth again.  None of it helps me make a clear decision.  None of it helps my heart & my head match up.  None of it makes me feel like I can either raise another baby or terminate one.  I feel like I won’t be able to get over doing that.  Mentally & emotionally, I worry it will push me over the edge.  I read about women who KNEW it was the right choice, and I commend them on that.  I want to reach that point, one way or the other. I struggle so much with this & I am both angry & ashamed that I put myself in this position.  That I believed I wasn’t capable of getting pregnant again so quickly.  I thought the first pregnancy was a fluke, early sobriety + sex = unplanned pregnancy.  I sure as shit didn’t think it would happen twice in 2 years.  Yet, here I am.  I’ve even made the initial phone call at Planned Parenthood & then completely forgot to call in at the time. (where I live, before an abortion, you’re required to call a number & listen to a Dr. speak about the procedure & whatever else)   Every time I think I’ve made up my mind, I get a sliver of doubt, a push in the other direction.  I know I don’t have much longer to make a decision, which only makes it that much more difficult.  

I know I have spent the entire time rambling, and if anyone’s read this far, I apologize for that.  I’m not sure where to go from here, or how to even make a decision at this point.  The love I feel for my fiance & my son is like nothing else in the world.  It is truly indescribable.  I know I want to expand our family & grow old together.  But am I ready to do the expansion today?  Or I guess 9 months from today...I don’t know.  What do you do when your brain & your heart just won’t agree?  When they both go back & forth constantly and won’t stop racing?  This is truly one of the most difficult points I’ve ever been at in my life, and I spent a decade as a raging addict...I wish I had the answer, but I guess for now I’ll just write about my indecisiveness instead.

[angstew]

It’s Okay Mommies.... We all have been there. 🙃

[angstew]

“Being a parent is not about creating a perfect world for our children. It is about providing them with the love and support they need to feel valued and safe in this very imperfect world that they are living in.” J. Milburn

#responsiveparenting #peacefulparenting #gentleparenting #attachmentparenting #attachment #attachmenttheory #motherhood #parenthood #momblogger #mombloggers #earlychildhoodeducation #earlychildhoodeducator #earlychildhood #childdevelopment #childdevelopmentspecialist #parenting #parent #childhood #momlife #mindfulparenting #empoweringchildren #parentingmemes #parentingjourney #parentingtips #parentingquotes #resilience #achildsworld #secureattachment https://www.instagram.com/p/CN78Y31HCnE/?igshid=1su76ldke378m

[angstew]

Mom vs. Woman... ?

I became a new mom on August 6, 2020.  I knew it would be hard, but I had no idea it would be like this.  Not only am I constantly worrying about my child, his health, development, etc...but now I’m part of this world that I had only seen in movies, or seen in passing on the street.  The world of motherhood, a different kind of adult woman life, like an elite social club.  In my mind, once I became a mom, I’d have to buy a mini-van, eat organic, join a book club, and wear overalls.  No judgement to those moms by the way, but that just isn’t my style.  Anyway, once I finally got more than an hour of sleep at night & finally got a glimpse in the mirror, I realized that as a woman representing this amazing circle I have to do it proud!  I spend most of my days on Pinterest searching for “mom outfits”, “ways to decorate an apartment on a budget”, “cute styles mom”, not to mention I take DETAILED mental notes every time I see a young family.  What are they wearing? How are they talking? Could I ever give off that vibe?  Do I look like I know what I’m doing? What do people think?  

Yes, I’m aware of how neurotic I sound.  But I’m clearly not the only mom in the world who thinks these things, or I wouldn’t have so many things to scroll through online.  Why do we have to change everything once we become mothers?  Why does society make us feel like we have act, look, and dress like a “mom”.  What does that even mean?  Do I think SOME things should be tweaked a little bit, yes of course.  I want to be a strong, sober woman with grace & dignity that my son can look up to & my fiance can be proud to be next too.  But do I really have to change who I am because I gave birth? UH, I think not.  I grew a human being inside of me, spent a traumatic week in the hospital pushing him out & hemorrhaging, and have completely shifted my point of focus from myself to my son...I’m pretty sure I’ve already made the most major changes one can make to their life.  

Why can’t moms wear crop tops & Jordans?  Why can’t we be covered in tattoos?  I see the way people look at us families that are out of the “norm”, and I live in a big city where EVERYTHING is normal.  So why does it seem that parenthood is different?   As moms, we’re constantly told we’re superheroes, we’re these amazing creatures that are unlike anything else...all of this is TRUE.  So as a superhero, shouldn’t I get to design my own suit?  Shouldn’t I get to decide my superpowers?  I want to be the amazing supermom who wears Yeezys, has tattoos, and listens to 90′s hip hop. One of my superpowers is having an enormous amount of knowledge about sneakers.   I don’t want my son stopped or slowed by stereotypes & judgements, and I want to start in my own house.   

I worked at a grocery store during the summer before I gave birth, and I used to hear the things my coworkers would say when women would come in with their children.  Women who clearly had their hands full, with kids, with shopping, with LIVES.  And these comments comparing how they were dressed with their financial state.  Last time I checked, how I pay for my food & the way I look have nothing to do with each other.  I shouldn’t have to worry about wearing “the right thing” when I am going out with my family, so that people think I’m a good mom.   The saddest, most frustrating part about all this judgement & scrutiny is that is BY OTHER MOMS.  We are the ones who should be cheering each other on.  “You were able to get dressed, get those kids ready, AND made it out in public?!  You GO girl.”  NOT “Why would you dress like that....you’re a mom”  Hell yeah, we’re moms.  And we’re women.  We’re strong, we’re sexy and we just happen to have a little mini me on our hip. 

We shouldn’t have to be a mom by day & woman by night.  Why can’t we be both all the time?  That sounds stronger than any superhero that Marvel or DC could ever dream of creating.  

[angstew]

[angstew]

A beautiful day with my favorite 2 guys. 🥰

[angstew]

It has made me better, loving you.

Henry James (via sunsetquotes)

@colbyy I love you. 

[angstew]

How to have a baby during COVID-19 pt. 3-The induction of Oliver...

So here we are.  August 4th 2020.  In the midst of the pandemic.  I thought I was going in for my weekly stress test & OB appointment, and now I’m being told that I am being admitted.  That my blood pressure is dangerously high & this baby needs to come out.  As much research as I had done through the entire pregnancy, the birthing process was not something I had looked into very much.  Basically because it’s terrifying and I just didn’t even want to know.  So now, here I am kicking myself because I have absolutely no idea what to expect aside from an entire human being coming out of my body & HE wasn’t the one who was saying it was time....I called my fiance in tears, told him what was going on, begged the nurses to let him come up & so the adventure/dream/nightmare began...

I get up to the room, waiting for my fiance, and I’m starting to sweat.  All I’ve been told so far is to get into the hospital gown and wait for the doctor...They hooked me up to the fetal monitor, all the machines for my pressure & pulse, a DREADFUL COVID test and after an hour, finally got an IV into my bicep(the joys of being a recovering IV drug addict)  While waiting for the doctor I had a meltdown, I begged my fiance to just take me home, to let the baby come when he was ready, that I’d stay in bed & be careful, bawling my eyes out all crumpled up on the hospital bed.  Thank God for him truly, holding me tight, giving me the strength I needed right then & throughout the entire delivery, never leaving my side. Because we weren’t ready to stay, he had to run home, grab the bags & get the house in order while I sat in the bed with my mind really spinning... Okay, so fast forward a little, because this is a long, crazy ass story....So, doctors come in, let me know that yes I have preeclampsia, they absolutely should have caught it sooner but now we’re here & we gotta get this baby boy out ASAP but as gently as possible...so let the induction begin.  Now, because I’m in recovery, I chose to not take any kind of narcotics, and my fiance made sure to remind & ask every single nurse & doctor with every SINGLE medication that it couldn’t be a narcotic. My gift from God that gave me my mini gift from God. 

The first thing they gave me was IV magnesium, which I guess helps to keep seizures from occurring due to the preeclampsia getting worse, but gave me the worst migraines I’ve ever had, and because of the IV, I was given a catheter because I couldn’t get out of bed. So while that was flowing, the first thing they decided to try was some type of balloon thing, I’m sorry I don’t know any technical or medical terms because I was barely even there, let alone paying attention to names of things, the only thing I was thinking was “please get your fingers & tools & whatever else OUT of my lady parts...”.  So thanks to google, I guess this balloon thing is a catheter & the balloon gets filled with some solution that causes dilation...needless to say, it didn’t work...got me to about 2-3 cm and that was it.  So the next morning, it just wasn’t working any further, so the doctors wanted to try something else.  So they decided to start the pitocin.  For anyone who doesn’t know, pitocin is a hormone & it’s used to speed up the labor, and strengthens the contractions.  Basically, it SUCKS.  The contractions grew, as did the pain, but I wasn’t dilating fast enough.  But finally, at this point I was ready for some relief(non-narcotic of course. ha.)  I do have to say though, what they say about them is true.  I was petrified of getting a needle in my spine as I assume most people are, but the amount of pain I was in, and the relief it brought, it was well worth it.  Unfortunately, the next problem that arose was the fact that the epidural kept wearing off.  Yes, wearing off.  I had to push the button for more relief several times, and that was scary.  “What if that shit wears off while I’m pushing?  What if they can’t do anything or give me anymore after a certain point?” It was just frustrating that every few hours, the pain was excruciating again.  My poor & wonderful fiance held my hand the entire time, while I was squeezing him to death, begging him to fix it & to make everything better...I know there was nothing he could do, but just his presence, just his touch, and just saying the words out loud for some reason made me feel like he was fixing it!  Weird I know. 

 Anyway, so, even after having all these things done so far, I still wasn’t ready to push.  I don’t know what this boy was doing in there, but he had absolutely no intention of leaving my body.  Now to be fair, up until this appointment, I had been telling him that he wasn’t allowed to come any earlier than my due date because I was absolutely not ready, and he for sure heard me & took it very serious because he was NOT taking all the hints that it was time to vacate.  Okay, so its now the second day of labor, nothing is working, but I guess they decided I was dilated enough to break my water...oh goody.  I wasn’t sure exactly how they were going to do that, but after everything so far, I had a feeling it would be just as uncomfortable as everything else had been.  And I was correct!  They used a long hook looking tool & broke it, it wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t fun.  Again, maybe TMI, but I was not a fan of having a hand jammed in my body every half an hour for 2 days....Now, once again the epidural had worn off so because it had been continuing to wear off, the doctor was called & came back in to give me a second one...lucky me.  Now, I don’t know if the doctor gave me a stronger dose this time or if it didn’t go in the right way or what happened...I had the craziest rush, my vision was blurry & no bullshit, I passed out for like 2 hrs afterwards.  It was insane & actually kind of scary...I was going in & out of consciousness, the nurse was telling me to pay attention to how my body felt, in case it was time to start pushing(I guess if it feels like you have to poop it’s time) and I couldn’t talk or tell anyone what was going on because I was so out of it.  My fiance was getting all types of worked up & nervous, because I couldn’t even answer his questions if I was okay or not...it was wild, and I felt the poop-pushing feeling but couldn’t tell anyone before I passed out!!

So now, finally, it’s August 6th, around 6pm.  I finally woke up & I had the craziest urge to poop/push.  So FINALLY, it’s time to get this stubborn little peanut out!!  This part was actually the “easiest” part...sorta.  It was the only thing that went the way it was supposed to go.  Push hard = baby out.  It took me one hour, and that entire time was spent trying to get his round little head down the canal.  Once his head was down, the rest of him slid right out!  Now, I’m not sure if this is standard but WHY on earth do they not put something behind your back or have someone hold you up?!  I truly was out of breath & was at the point of giving up SOLEY because of the strain from having to sit up & push like that.  Because of COVID, I could only have one person in the room, which of course was my fiance, but he being the amazing man he is, called my mom on FaceTime so I had her support through the phone & my fiance was there holding my hand(and at the end, literally holding me up so I could push!)  I told him I couldn’t push anymore, that they were going to have to cut him out of me if he didn’t come out at that point.  I gave one final push as hard as I could, and he came out.  At first I didn’t realize that he was finally out.  I was so tired, still out of it, and then all of a sudden I feel this weight on my chest & there he was.  This beautiful, purple, slimey, LONG ASS, handsome, perfect little boy was finally here on my chest, all 20.5 inches, 7lbs14oz of him.  Oliver Anthony was welcomed into the world.  

And then just as I thought things could only go uphill after all that, I was completely and totally smacked in the face by reality...because it got a whole lot worse for the week of hell that the 3 of us spent in the hospital.  

[angstew]

How to have a baby during COVID-19 pt 2-The roller coaster of pregnancy

And so it began. The roller coaster of pregnancy.  The first & only pregnancy I’ve experienced. In the middle of a pandemic.  While barely sober enough to be done detox.  What a combo.  But I was determined to break the stereotype. I would not endanger my unborn child, I would not resort to my selfish & reckless ways.  I would do something different.  And then reality hit, and I felt the whole emotional rainbow at once, and then felt guilty for some of the ways I felt, shameful, like I didn’t deserve to have a child with the thoughts I was having.  In case you’re not familiar with addiction & recovery, there is no cure.  I know it’s a controversial subject(my favorite kind) but in my experiences it is NOT a choice, it is NOT curable, and the biggest argument starter it seems, I was born this way.  Example, when I was younger & I discovered skinny jeans, I bought every different color of the same pair....when I found a song or a band I liked, that’s all I listened too until my mom finally had enough.  You get the idea.  Anyway, so that being said, some of the thoughts that swirled around my head in the early stages of the pregnancy included  “just do one” “noone would know” “the baby will be fine just once” “I wont be a good mom anyway so why not just do what everyone expects”  I am proud to say, that I did not use during my pregnancy, and still haven’t to this day but I do not judge women that do, it’s heartbreaking how sad but real that struggle is.  And I was so embarrassed to share those thoughts, because I felt like I shouldn’t be having them.  More about that later...

Okay, so now I’m pregnant, my fiance & I live in a recovery house, we were both just laid off of work, and I mean within 1.5 months of finding out, we were both jobless, and I was absolutely petrified.  This may be TMI, but I have always been afraid of the dentist & the OBGYN, so getting poked, prodded, and having a human being come out of there mortified me.  So, I did what anyone in this society does-google.  I downloaded every single pregnancy app, I googled every single movement, feeling, question & thought I could think of.  I was determined to be good to this baby, to undo all the wrong I had done through my life.  My fiance turned into the baby whisperer, talking to my stomach before this baby was even the size of a kidney bean.  It was beautiful.  Thank GOD for the PUA money, because without that we probably would’ve had this baby in a recovery house....just kidding, but seriously we would’ve been living with family & not able to bond as a little unit.  While I was out of work though, I tried to use the time to read, learn & eat as much as possible.  The first 4 months all the baby wanted was nachos, until one long awful night filled with vomit, diarrhea & lots of tears, I didn’t go near Mexican again.  After that, it was hot wings.  I started eating mayo on sandwiches (which I HATED), ate eggs every morning(also wasn’t a big fan), whatever that baby wanted to eat he got, my fiance made sure of it. And I can’t forget the famous pregnancy pillows.  A true must have.  My fiance’s dad got me a C shaped pillow & my fiance became as obsessed with it as I was.  I would fold this thing up in it’s little portable bag & drag it back & forth between my house & my fiance’s just to get some comfort...& so my fiance could get a little snuggle with it here & there. So as soon as I started getting used to being pregnant, and started to embrace all the changes, I became a house manager for 10 women, which means a glorified babysitter- giving drug tests, monitoring chores, enforcing rules, which would be fine if people want to get sober, but this particular group wasn’t there.  So it was very difficult, and honestly, I didn’t give as much attention & effort as I should have, but I was determined to try and help as much as I could, while juggling all of my own things.  Needless to say, around 7 months pregnant I had to step down.  The drama, the running back & forth between spending time with my fiance & having to deal with house shit became too much.  All I wanted to do was be with the father of my child & experience every little thing with him.  

Okay, so I know I’m jumping around, and for that I apologize, pregnancy brain is a real thing & 7 months postpartum it’s still alive and well.  So, I finally got the courage to tell my mom about the baby.  She was the last one I told, and the one I was most afraid to tell.  My mom & I have always been incredibly close, she’s been the most amazing support that I could ask for.  But I knew before telling her what she’d say...”are you crazy” “this is NOT the time to have a baby” “you are being so irresponsible” and it actually ended up going WORSE than I imagined.  We barely spoke for months, and when we did, there was so much tension, so many things unsaid & so many unshared feelings you could literally FEEL it in the air.  It was absolutely terrible.  It was the hardest part about the pregnancy for the most part.  She finally started to come around right before we moved into our apartment, because I think she realized she didn’t want to lose out on her daughter & her life.  I was moving into my first apartment, yes at 27, finally moving into my first apartment, I was getting bigger & more exciting things were happening with the baby, I was finally growing up & starting this beautiful life & I think my mom realized she would miss out if she didn’t put aside her feelings and just be my mom.  I still am so grateful for the moment she came around, because I didn’t really have anyone to talk too, woman wise.  Sure, I could ask the older women at the house, or people I knew, but it’s not the same as MY mom.  I wanted to be able to ask her the gross, embarrassing questions I didn’t even want to acknowledge were happening to me.  “What do I do about the horrible acne I have?”  “What makes this gas go away?”  “Will I poop on the delivery table?!”  “What happens if the baby comes out & I’m not ready to be a mom yet?”  Questions only a mom can answer.  Thank God for moms.  

So as I said earlier, at about 7 months, we finally were able to move into our own apartment, and I was ecstatic.  I could sleep with my fiance AND my pregnancy pillow at the same time.  I could fill my refrigerator with whatever me & my fiance(AKA my fiance & the baby) wanted, and most importantly, we could start getting ready for this baby.  We could give him a HOME. Decorate the different rooms, get the nursery ready, we could settle down, relax & wait for this baby to make his grand appearance.  It was just one less thing to be stressed about, we had somewhere to bring this new little guy too, we could be together & we could pack for the hospital...something I waited until about 8 months 1 week to do....

After we finally settled into our new place, I noticed the famous swelling of the hands & feet, only this was not normal.  And unfortunately, the hospital that I was going too for prenatal care was ALWAYS slammed, it was during COVID so the doctors wanted to be in & out, it was someone different every time & I felt like nothing I said was heard or more importantly, taken seriously.  So when I started complaining about the swelling, without even looking at it, it was dismissed as normal swelling, and I was told I was fine.  I was starting to go for weekly stress tests as well after my appointments and THERE was when the preeclampsia was discovered.  Not at my OB appointment, where they’re supposed to be physically checking me and making sure I’m okay.  Where I complained of swelling, headaches, fatigue, which are all red flags.  Anyway, at 8 months 2 weeks, I went for an OB & stress test appointment.  As usual the OB said everything looked great, HA.  I went down for my stress test, found out my BP was 145/90, after taking it 4 times it was determined I had preeclampsia & would be admitted immediately for delivery.  It was hands down the most terrifying thing in my life(at that moment, because it got much scarier in the next few days)  Because of COVID, my fiance wasn’t allowed in the appointments with me, so when I found out I was staying, I called him in a meltdown, while begging the nurses to let him come up. And so began the most traumatic, excruciating, beautiful, breathtaking week of my life...the induction of Oliver. (yeah, you read that correctly, a WEEK)

[angstew]

New mom watching her babies sleeping.

[angstew]

How to have a baby during COVID-19.

I’ve always wanted to have a blog, but who wants to read the thoughts & feelings of some rando...Actually, that’s not true. Ever since I got pregnant, I’ve wanted to document everything, the cute perfect pictures, have one of those mom blogs that blow up and become an internet sensation, I wanted to have the PERFECT pregnancy. The ones that the celebrities have, the perfect baby bumps, the amazing maternity clothes, and then back in full a size 2, 3 days postpartum....

That has in absolutely no way been the case. I had a semi-difficult pregnancy, an incredibly traumatic birth, suffered from postpartum depression, was in a rough spot with my fiance, all while trying to raise this little tiny person-who by the way is my first child...and might I add, before him I had never changed a diaper or  even been around babies...if I’m being honest, I don’t like babies & I don’t like kids. I know, I’m a terrible awful human being & even worse of a woman, but I just wasn’t born with that maternal or “white picket fence” gene. So, the million dollar question I suppose? WHY have a baby if you hate babies?  Well, I love my fiance very much. And as corny as this may sound, from the moment I met him, something in me changed. I knew I wanted things I had never dreamed of-the house, the kids, the dog, the happy little family that used to make me gag.  Not to mention, according to every mother EVER, “you’ll love your own kids” “once you see him, its over” you know, all those sayings.  So I just hoped & seriously prayed that it would be the case. 

I guess I should back up just a little bit before I go into all the pregnancy stuff, that is, if anyone’s still reading this...so my fiance & I are both recovering addicts.  And I don’t mean like we’ve been sober for years & years or were smoking some pot (no offense. yes, I know it’s a drug) We lived as bottom of the barrel, sleeping in cars, and on park benches, shooting up puddle water & snow and eating poptarts off the ground(well that was me but you get the point) I have struggled with heroin & cocaine addiction for a decade of my life now, and have been in & out of treatment, jail, AA, NA, all up & down the east coast, trying whatever was out there to stop and then always starting again.  At one point, being in the middle of nowhere & being so desperate to hope on Reddit and find drugs(I only say this because its no longer available) Anyway, long story short I have spent a lot of years doing things I would’ve never dreamed of doing to get a fix that I’d never truly get. So fast forward a bit, my fiance & I are living in a car in Philly, high in the backseat dreaming of our kids, our house, our life together & how amazing it would be. No, I promise that’s not when it happened. But finally it had been enough pain & we went to treatment. Again. Not together and not at the same time, oh, and not on the best of terms, but that’s a whole other story.  So I went back to the same recovery house(think sorority/fraternity just with drug testing, but all the drama & chaos) that I had been in just a year before that, and he was able to live right across the street in the men’s house. And yes, you guessed it, this is where it happens. Not the ideal timing, but I was sober. 2 months sober mind you, but sober. Oh and have I mentioned yet that I found out I got pregnant 2 months before COVID-19 hit, so that has made this whole experience just that much more mind blowing. Anyway, even though this is what we had been talking about basically since we met, it was still quite the shock...like him having me buy 4 more pregnancy tests & almost passing out kind of shock. But after the 3rd one, and me running out of pee, I think it started to sink in that this was happening.  And so it began...the lovely roller coaster of pregnancy.  

[angstew]

Phenomenal Woman

BY MAYA ANGELOU

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can’t see.

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need for my care.

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

[angstew]

A mothers love never ends

[angstew]

Fill your own cup first.

That's what they say.

What should I fill it with?

Wine or vodka?

What will make the constant hounding go away?

I tried yoga.

That made me tired and sore.

Reminded me how my body is broken.

How things have changed inside.

I yearn for more.

I tried reading.

My mind sought peace.

From the racing thoughts.

The constant worries.

Some calm to lease?

I tried a movie.

The characters aren't real.

I found myself immersed.

Worried about them..

Looking to heal.

What fills my cup?

I still don't know.

I really have to figure it out.

To be a whole person.

To grow.

[angstew]

…and they go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah…

(I bet you are singing it in your head now :) )

[angstew]

“Every next level of your life will demand a different you.”

— Leonardo DiCaprio

[angstew]

“It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory.”

— Paulo Coelho