" The first draft is just you telling yourself the story." -Terry Pratchett |
I had the pleasure of reading Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway) . I read the story twice, first on my own then got the second chance of reading and discussing it with my class. I have linked the story in the beginning so you too can check it out. I felt that the girl in this story felt anger towards the man, but more so she felt alone on making a decision that could change not only her life but those around her as well. Reading this story, I can remember a time in my life where I felt alone and had to make an enormous decision, even though I had the support of others. It was springtime and I had a watermelon under my shirt that had amazing stripes on it. I could feel her kicking all the time. The small seed that resided inside of me was now a half-grown watermelon size baby. Forget about morning sickness I suffered from all day sickness. On top of being sick I also suffered from depression. I think the fact that I was given a choice to terminate my baby or go on everyday not knowing if she would make it through full term mad me even more sad by the day. I not only had to deal with feeling bad emotionally, and physical, but I was now told by my OB/ GYN that I was a high pregnancy risk because of my daughter diagnosis. I previously visited a specialist who explained to me that my unborn child wouldn’t live a normal nor long life. It was a lot to deal with especially since I was only 22 years old and had never been a mother before but was now going to be responsible for not only a baby but a severely ill infant. It was hard to even image my life as real I felt like I was living in one of those sad lifetime movies that never ended good. Was my life now a movie only difference was I didn’t know how things would turn out or end for that matter. Everyday I would wake up sick and just cry for hours I cried for me but mostly for my beautiful unborn girl. I didn’t know what to expect every day when I woke up, but no matter what I felt my mother made sure she came in my bedroom every morning to talk to my unborn daughter. “Good morning grand-daughter how’s mom mom’s baby doing in there,” my mom said. “Mom stop it mom it’s too early for you to be in my room,” I said. “Its never too early to talk to my grand-baby I don’t care what those doctors say, they don’t know only God has the last say,” my mom said. “I know mom I know,” I said with emotion. The truth was that I didn’t know what to believe I just knew I had a life in me that was growing more and more squeezing all my organ painfully together. My boyfriend was very supportive and there at every moment except at night, my mother was very religious and didn’t believe my boyfriend should stay the night with me since we weren’t married. The irony I’m 22 years old and pregnant already what more could happen I get double pregnant. It was a normal morning and my bladder was always full. I lived in the restroom between puking my guts up and peeing I spent most of my day near or on the bowl. I noticed that something was different today I didn’t feel my daughter kick much or even move, which seemed extremely weird to me since I normally had a little gymnastic inside of me. I told my mother of my concerns because my boyfriend was at work as usual. Now for most mom wouldn’t normally wig out but for me because it was told to me by the specialist with no compassion that my child could possibly die within my womb. I didn’t hesitate to tell my mother I needed to go to the emergency room. My mom drove me to Lankenau hospital where I sat maybe 20 minutes in the emergency room due to the circumstances of me being pregnant, I was in a room faster then normal. The tech came in to do an ultrasound on my watermelon formed belly, as she put the cold gel on my stop, I felt my chest getting tighter and tighter. What if she saw my baby girl lying the lifeless no heartbeat, no movement? I more I thought about the more I felt emotional, afraid, but more alone then anything. It didn’t matter how much my mom was by my side, or the fact that her dad was there at every appointment being supportive. At the end it was me alone, who held the cord to her life inside of me, me who would feel empty if my beautiful baby girl was lifeless, and me who would be seedless and empty of life. The ultrasound technician pressed the machine against my stomach and there she was balled up sleeping with the most perfect heartbeat that I’ve ever heard. I felt joy, love, and suddenly being alone I was no more my seed, my small watermelon size baby girl was still apart of my womb. I later found out that the reason why I didn’t feel her kicking was because I was severely dehydrated yes all I need was water for my little gymnastic to backstroke in.
3 Comments
Jaime
9/24/2019 04:13:33 am
I love the way you described things. Gymnastic, watermelon. It does help get the image across. I could feel throughout the story that the theme was sadness, and being alone, but I felt toward the end a sense of relief. Thank you for sharing this with us.
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Sabatino
9/24/2019 04:52:17 am
I echo Jaime's comments and see how the material in this post could develop into a memoir. I wonder how an image might complement this story? What symbolic language here do you think most deepens the plot?
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mack
9/24/2019 06:52:11 am
I feel a lot of sadness in your story it was a lot going thought your head at the time but you had hope and god people around you. thank for sharing you story
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Shayla MontgomeryHi I'm Shayla I'm a wife, mother, and student. I currently work full-time while going to school part-time to obtain an degree i nursing. Archives
December 2019
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