largemommalife-blog

[largemommalife-blog]

Hunger Pains

This pain is unbearable. The constant ache from my belly is something I have experienced before but this time it’s heightened tenfold. I know it’s from my condition which only causes more agony. I had already committed to changing my future, adjusting to my new circumstances. Now this plan I had scripted for myself is looking bleak. The hunger I am fighting is leaving me feeling defeated. As I look hopelessly around my living quarters my failure is smacking me right in the face. A brown, old as fuck Buick car. Hell, it isn’t even mine! It’s one that a friend loaned to me before he left for the Army.  

I had big plans; you know. I was getting out of this town, out of this state. But fate had a different course for me. Don’t get me wrong. I know it’s me that fucked up, but that doesn’t deplete the shock that I am still feeling. It’s like directly after graduation, during a time when everyone has high hopes and dreams big, my life shattered in every aspect. Every dream, every hope, all the determination that held me through my schooling and gave me the strength to overcome the abuse, crashed and burned in a matter of days. It’s too much to handle.

I sit here in this car, with no food, no home, no money and no hope. I am lost with no one to help me. It’s been 3 days since I’ve eaten, and the pain is leaving me anxious. I know the food bank doesn’t open until tomorrow, but I am becoming desperate to find a solution now. It feels like do or die at this point. Like if I don’t find something soon all the recent Hell I’ve been through will be for nothing. I look down at my stomach, feeling ridiculous as I say, “Nothing will stop me from surviving. Don’t worry, I can do this!”

I glance at the coins in his car. He has to have enough quarters there to buy me dinner. I wasn’t going to steal his money but my integrity lessens as the pain increases. I rummage through his center console and collect all the quarters. I begin counting them, my hopes rising back into existence with each quarter. $1.25. That’s it, but it’s enough. I can’t contain my smile. Why would I? I’m a survivor.

I drive through the small town of Yelm and within 2 minutes I reach the Jack in the Box fast food restaurant. I order a dollar menu burger and water. Normally I like their tacos, but I know I have to be smart about my choices now. I figure a burger has to be more nutritious than a spicy taco. Proud of my ability to think responsibly, I seat myself near the window facing traffic and dig in. I eat carefully making sure to consume slowly but too soon it becomes a moot point. The hunger is too much, and the food couldn’t relieve my stomach fast enough. For the couple of minutes that I devour my scrumptious meal I’m in Heaven. I never tasted anything so divine. This greasy burger transformed into a fulfilling delicacy. I groan in satisfaction.  

Smiling to myself, I stand up from the chair and make my way to the trash bin. Not a single crumb is left behind. I go to refill my drink when I feel the foreboding nausea creeping up my throat. No! No, this can’t happen! We can’t let this happen! My body doesn’t listen. I am gagging, the acid touching my tongue and invading my mouth. My nostrils burn and I run quickly to the bathroom.  I slam the stall door open, rushing to the toilet not even bothering to close the door. All the contents of my meal spills into the grungy bowl. I cry while acid drips from my nose. I watch in horror as reality sets in. I failed. I’m a miserable waste; deplorable and desolate. I’m worse than my mother because where she was cruel and selfish; I won’t even be able to keep my baby alive. What was I thinking? I can’t even feed myself! How will we survive?

I sit on the dirty floor of the bathroom and sob in the corner. This is it, rock bottom. But it isn’t just me suffering; this human being within me is suffering too. I can’t wallow in my own pity and hopelessness. This baby deserves more, and I’ll be damned if I am going to give up. I just need to get through one more night. One more night of fighting the hunger. I can do this. No, we can do this, because this little one is a survivor too…