Spotlight Writing Contest #1: She had given birth so many times.

I have decided not to give up from being part of this competition because I know something good must come out of it. I was told my first post did not qualify because it's not up to 2000 words. Eyes of SORROW https://steemit.com/spotlight/@michaelcj/spotlight-writing-contest-1-eyes-of-sorrow-2017827t1561210z
So Enjoy, Vote for this post by adding "VOTE" via comment and don't forget to Resteem

---

---

Some had been bloody affairs with pain that threatened to pull her seams apart. She realized later, in some places, it had. Those births had made her heart burst wide open along with her pelvis. Nature deemed the splaying necessary. It allowed the love to burst from her, to the new life, even as it drew its’ first breath.

Those births led to many more. She gave birth to milk that nurtured, to eyes that saw everything, at all times, to magic kisses that healed flesh. Later, she birthed PTA meetings, history projects, car pools, football practice snacks, pointe shoes from the murky closet depths and kisses that healed broken hearts. She labored and delivered date nights and stolen weekend getaways. She gave birth to dinners from seemingly empty pantries to the moans and cries of , “There’s nothing to eat!” She labored and delivered and gave birth over and over. She did it in chaos and noise. She did it while phones rang, dogs barked., T.V.s talked and music played. She reveled in the joy of it, for the love it. She did all of this for so long that labor and delivery became as inherent as breathing itself.

But birth is a process of life insuring that IT continues. Life uses vessels to perpetuate itself. It does so without malice and out of necessity. She had been a vessel. She had been used, over and over, year after year, and she had begun to feel used up. She felt empty. Then one day, with the suddenness of a cardiac arrest, she realized the chaos and noise were gone. It had been so loud for so long that even in absence the sounds had echoed. Suddenly, there was silence. The house WAS empty. She WAS empty. She felt vertigo, panic. In a rush of pain that contracted her heart, she realized she couldn’t give form to herself. She felt like amniotic fluid on the delivery room floor. Once, it had protected and nurtured life. Now it was a mess to mop up. So was she. She paused. She breathed. Pant, pant, blow. Pant, pant, blow.

So she chose to nurture her. She wrapped her arms around herself and pulled some of that love that had burst out into the cosmos in that first bloody birth, back. Back inside of her. She incubated. After some weeks she felt the quickening. A shift inside. Movement . A proof of life. She was scared. Labor is exhausting. Birth is painful. She was old. Could she do this again? She waited. Over the months of this gestation, she slowly realized, where she had been exhausted, she felt a tiny kick of excitement and energy . Where she had felt lonely, the faint heart beat of contentment. She practiced her breathing. She nested. She prepared.

The labor, when it began was long. At times she felt too fatigued to carry on. Too weary. She felt terrified. Could she do this? Could she really do this again?

She reminded herself of everything she had endured, everything that she had made. She thought of the blood loss, the magic, the strength, the LOVE she had given birth to. She hugged herself tight. She used a magic kiss on her own soul. She slowly KNEW she could do this.

So, in yet another feat of strength, she persevered. With an agility and limberness that could have been coached by Bela Karolyi , she did the seemingly impossible. She gave birth to herself. She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all,

---

Thank you for reading. I'll be really glad if you comment "VOTE" via comment below. Thank you!