- Jun 22, 2005
- 947
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- US-Democrat
This is part of my English paper. For those of you who have read "The Scarlet Ibis" this is the mother's point of view. I am just going to post the first page or so, unless you want more. Constructive Criticisim is welcome!
My Child
The mothers point of view
I knew this one was going to be different. I could feel it deep within me. I wasnt as large or a sick with this one. When I was pregnant with my firstborn, I had morning sickness so often that it just became a part of me. I was constantly losing my center of balance because of the enormous belly I had. With this child, (My second, and hopefully not my last), I barely gained anything and was never sick. Not even once!
I dont remember much about the birth. I suppose it hurt. I just remember Aunt Nicey falling to the ground in prayer as the midwife opened the caul. The baby wasnt breathing. She spanked it, trying to get my little boy to breathe. Once, twice, three times. Yet, nothing was happening. I began to cry, the tears streaming down my face in two separate, lonely rivers.
Waaaah waaahh It was a feeble cry, but a cry none the less. Aunt Nicey stood up and held the boy in her arms.
I knew this child was special, she murmured. He was born in Jesus robe.
I know this may sound selfish, but I dont want to get attached to my baby. I havent even named him yet. He is three months old. He barely opens his eyes, cant vocalize at all, and I wouldnt even dream of him lifting his head. We leave him in his room with Aunt Nicey most of the time. I cant stand to see the child. He is always straining. His face turns the nastiest shade of purple and his little fists will clench and unclench.
Yes, yes. I know. How could a mother not love her child? Its not that I dont love him; its just that I will get too attached to him and he will die. I know it, the doctors know it, and my family knows it. Our pastor, however, would like us to name him. I know it isnt because he thinks my son will live, but that we will need a name to put on his tombstone. Its awful. Just awful.
I think we should name him William. First of all, the name sounds strong. Like William the Conqueror or William of Orange. Secondly, it was my grandfathers name. Grandpa Bill was one of the nicest men around, and Id like to think that, given the chance, my son would be too. I also like the name William because it means determined. I guess I will have to talk to my husband. Plus, if the child is going to be baptized, it is going to need a name.
Over the past few years William has been getting much better. He is talking and can even crawl! That horrid coffin is now up in the barn loft where it belongs. We have been having bimonthly checkups on him. The doctors make sure to always tell us that we need to keep him calm and not let him move around to much on his own. My husband built him a wagon that our oldest pulls him around in. As I watch them from the kitchen window now, you can tell how much William loves those rides.
We figure, at the rate he is going, he may even be able to start school in a few years. Or we will home school him. Either way, he will become a smart little boy who might even grow up into a smart man. I have kept that part to myself though. People always give me that dont-get-your-hopes-up look. I hate that look. I hate it almost as much as I hate his nickname: Doodle. No one ever expects much out of a kid named Doodle.
Well, there you have it!
My Child
The mothers point of view
I knew this one was going to be different. I could feel it deep within me. I wasnt as large or a sick with this one. When I was pregnant with my firstborn, I had morning sickness so often that it just became a part of me. I was constantly losing my center of balance because of the enormous belly I had. With this child, (My second, and hopefully not my last), I barely gained anything and was never sick. Not even once!
I dont remember much about the birth. I suppose it hurt. I just remember Aunt Nicey falling to the ground in prayer as the midwife opened the caul. The baby wasnt breathing. She spanked it, trying to get my little boy to breathe. Once, twice, three times. Yet, nothing was happening. I began to cry, the tears streaming down my face in two separate, lonely rivers.
Waaaah waaahh It was a feeble cry, but a cry none the less. Aunt Nicey stood up and held the boy in her arms.
I knew this child was special, she murmured. He was born in Jesus robe.
* * *
I know this may sound selfish, but I dont want to get attached to my baby. I havent even named him yet. He is three months old. He barely opens his eyes, cant vocalize at all, and I wouldnt even dream of him lifting his head. We leave him in his room with Aunt Nicey most of the time. I cant stand to see the child. He is always straining. His face turns the nastiest shade of purple and his little fists will clench and unclench.
Yes, yes. I know. How could a mother not love her child? Its not that I dont love him; its just that I will get too attached to him and he will die. I know it, the doctors know it, and my family knows it. Our pastor, however, would like us to name him. I know it isnt because he thinks my son will live, but that we will need a name to put on his tombstone. Its awful. Just awful.
I think we should name him William. First of all, the name sounds strong. Like William the Conqueror or William of Orange. Secondly, it was my grandfathers name. Grandpa Bill was one of the nicest men around, and Id like to think that, given the chance, my son would be too. I also like the name William because it means determined. I guess I will have to talk to my husband. Plus, if the child is going to be baptized, it is going to need a name.
* * *
Over the past few years William has been getting much better. He is talking and can even crawl! That horrid coffin is now up in the barn loft where it belongs. We have been having bimonthly checkups on him. The doctors make sure to always tell us that we need to keep him calm and not let him move around to much on his own. My husband built him a wagon that our oldest pulls him around in. As I watch them from the kitchen window now, you can tell how much William loves those rides.
We figure, at the rate he is going, he may even be able to start school in a few years. Or we will home school him. Either way, he will become a smart little boy who might even grow up into a smart man. I have kept that part to myself though. People always give me that dont-get-your-hopes-up look. I hate that look. I hate it almost as much as I hate his nickname: Doodle. No one ever expects much out of a kid named Doodle.
Well, there you have it!
