I feel like my body isn’t mine. It’s its own entity, doing it’s own thing. I try to breathe through it all. Everything I thought I would want to do while in labour is gone. My plans of dancing this baby out, gone. All I want to do is lie down. But it doesn’t work. Not much offers any release. Only during the breaks between contractions, do I feel no pain. I’m rubbed and massaged. I try to dance, for a bit...but then another contraction rocks my body.
It’s spring. There are blossoms everywhere. I’ve always loved Spring. Always thought it to be a beautiful prelude to the warmth to come. This particular Spring I have an extra spring in my step, literally. The birds chirp more loudly. Blossoms shine more brightly and even look bigger. I am filled with quiet optimism.
Boy? Girl? Keep it a surprise? The midwife hands us a folded piece of paper with the gender enclosed. Do we look? Do we wait?
I walked past the real that day, and even though I wondered, and pondered...even though I felt I cared... I kept walking. I kept scrolling.
So, once a week I reflect and write down what I am grateful for and every week I write something about the love I have for my village...
True education is not about having everyone feel good, it is about opening our eyes, minds and hearts to the realities of the world and creating opportunities for our students to discuss, reflect, challenge and come up with alternative solutions.
At this time last year I took a trip to Manitowaning ...I was in a dark, cold and lonely place. I was confused. I was worried. I was scared. I was sad. I felt shame and regret. I felt karma was at play and it felt as though it was my fault.
I self diagnose all of the time and very rarely am I wrong. Except for that time I thought I was dying. I felt deathly ill and got tiny red bumps all over my body. I researched all over the internet and concluded “I’ve got Scarlet Fever. Yes, I’m going to die.”