It's Me. Melody.
My first test blog got labeled as a "spam" blog. Has Lord Tempist, the King of Spam, had that much influence on me? That I could write a few words as a test and get warned that I needed to take action or it would be removed? For being considered SPAM? Not the first reaction to my first blog I was expecting.
I've wanted to make a statement, but I don't know how to put it into words yet. The only statement I make is by being myself, really. There is nothing flashy, spectacular, or "special". It's just me.
But there are stories I can tell you to share about what I do know. My life. Would you be interested? Now that, is the million dollar question, isn't it?
It was my daughter's birthday recently. She is the heart of my existence, along with my husband Michael. She turned 28. Twenty eight. Has it really been that long since I first laid eyes on her wrinkled little face? The child took 14 hours before she decided she would join this world. She was already two weeks overdue, and had literally grown out of her skin. She had patches flaking and peeling off all over. She had scratched her face because of her long fingernails.
Her head was coned. The doctors had to attach monitors to her head and remarked they had never seen a baby actually rotate inside the birth canal. The wires were constantly getting twisted. 14 hours I patiently waited for her, and bit my lip at the pain. This pain would end, I knew. But I worried. Why was she so hesitant? It was like she didn't want to thrown into this life.
A nurse took pity on me finally. She inspected me, placed her fingers over a flap of tissue that was holding my girl in, and she yelled, "OKAY! NOW! PUSH! PUSH! She had a pretty accent that made it sound like she was saying "POOOOSH! POOOOSH! POOOOOOSH! I will hilp you!" I obeyed, and pushed hard. The second time, my girl finally came through. No crying, no fussing, just gracefully plopped out of me. With all the grace and beauty of a flower bud. With all the class of a newborn princess. A grand, regal entrance.
Then her little lids fluttered open. And she was cross eyed. I laughed, knowing it was normal, and that she really couldn't see yet. She was taunting me, daring me. To laugh. And I did, for that one moment, seeing her little face for the first time.
Then they took her away from me to clean her up. And I started shaking. Violently. Uncontrollably. I was so afraid, bewildered, and lost. The nurse made me look at her, smiled, and gently whispered, "Relax". She quickly threw a heated blanket over me, and the shaking immediately stopped.
My rush of tears immediately followed.
