The Write on Wednesday Spark: Agent Chin- Wag
Pay attention to the conversations around you: at the dinner table, in the supermarket, while DVD Returning, wherever. You are looking for one line, one tiny sentence of dialogue. You may find your words lurking in a D&M or perhaps you will choose a phrase from everyday chatter. Write down your line. Use it to inspire your Write on Wednesday post. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh and enjoy.

REMEMBER: Creative writing is still on the WoW cards in 2012 but consider exploring other writing styles as well. Write fact or fiction. Link up a real life piece, a blog post, a Haiku, a letter, a poem, even a photography narrative. Tell us a STORY, by whatever means you fancy. Wherever the prompt takes you...

The linky will be open each week from Monday to Friday. If you are playing the game, try to visit the other linkers, at least three of four would be nice. Encourage, critique and support your fellow writers.

OVERHEARD:  So then you get hooked up to tubes and you can't really feel your legs and it doesn't hurt.  Otherwise you just push the baby out.

This caught my attention first because I'm a midwife and that was an interesting description of the difference between a natural birth and one with interventions.  Also, because it was the first time I'd heard the birthing process referred to as "just push it out," which struck me as hugely oversimplified.  Finally because of the body language; the two women were the same age, same size, but the pregnant woman's (who already had a child) body language and tonr of voice were all different: more confident, older, wiser, more relaxed, more aware of her body.  So, this little poem is what came to mind.

After all the waiting.
After all the pain.
After all the work.
After all.
I watched her stomach heave as she rode another wave,
beautifully (though she'd never believe me).
I watched the baby push through
bruised and tender flesh.
Not the first pain of motherhood, but the worst
yet encountered.
And I saw in that moment
in the sweat slicked brow
in the strength she didn't know she had
in the core of iron
in the boundless love
in the spurt of blood
in the two wails that join as one
the birth.
Not of a child, but a woman.

Weaving Together the Threads

I am a wearer of hats.  They are myriad, these hats, enough to send the fabled hatter into a frenzy.  Mother. Wife. Daughter. Midwife. Writer. Friend. Leader. Teacher. The list goes on and on.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  Long ago, though, in a coping mechanism, I taught myself to compartmentalize.  I have more compartments, and they are more watertight, than the Titanic.  When I would transition from one role to another I could almost hear the sccccrraatcch THUNNNNKKK of the door slamming shut and the pressure valve spinning.  But, lately I realized something.  Much like the Titanic, I was going under.  I was sinking.  The hats I mentioned?  Suddenly they didn't seem to fit correctly.  You see, life is not so well defined as the roles I was trying to play.  Life colors outside of the lines.  So I had former clients who wanted to be friends and I couldn't...quite...do it.  I didn't know how to engage in that kind of exchange.  I began to be very uncomfortable with touch.  After all, I massage and hug others as part of caregiving.  To receive a hug is to receive care and as a perpetual careGIVER I could no longer receive a hug.  Also, I was always working at the eleventh hour because I couldn't bring myself to start one project until I'd completed the last.  As big as my head is, I couldn't seem to fit more than one hat at a time.  My websites reflected this; one for my writing, one for my business, one for my hobby and never the mane shall tweet as the joke goes.  Sometimes there were things I wanted to say, but I couldn't; I didn't have a forum for random thoughts after all.  I've been thinking and praying quite a lot lately and one of the things that has been revealed to me is that it is time to start weaving the strands of my life together (have we hit maximum metaphor density yet?).  It's time to take those roles and turn them into a wife.  This website is part of that; a little bit of everything, like me.  I used to make macrame necklaces, now I'm trying with my life; take the strands, wrap them around each other and make something beautiful.