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.