I Will Always Catch You

[Brittany]

Here we are once again at the hospital, waiting in a trauma room where it is obvious that life is tethered to ability and chance. You are on a gurney, doe-eyed and afraid, with monitors and machines behind you, and paddles on the shelf next to you, as you inquire about the two digital clocks on the wall above us and why they are set at different times. I mention to you that one is on Dubai time and the other is set at Greenwich Mean time- failing to mention that because we live in a large expatriate community, they are set differently to accurately mark the time of death.

The doctor is impressed that I can sit and cradle your small head calmly as he lances an insect bite that has abscessed into an angry mound, which he then delves deep inside of in an effort to expel what lies beneath. There seems to be a nurse in me still, who left school behind to follow my heart and a man, a pilot, that I knew at the time, could be more than my career would ever allow for; and one of us had to be at home.

I sift your blond hair tenderly through my fingers as I guide your head toward my gaze and gently through fear while the medications have left you feeling small and bewildered. Motherhood gives you unintended wings that surpass everything in that solemn moment of fear and above its flame we soar, we fly, and no matter from how high or how hard you fall...I will always try to catch you.

[Jenni Marie]

That took my breath away. Motherhood changes everything.

[Kristine_ES]

and that is a mom.  i believe the wings are intended, however. mom's find the strength to do all the things you felt in this.  this was beautiful, brittany. 

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

I am finding it hard to breathe after reading this.  In all the years I've been a mother, I think I've always tried to say what you said in your last line, but failed miserably.

[Jenny Darlington]

Wow, beautifully written. My little man is 13 months old, and I identified with this so much - the pain and fear for them, wanting to keep them perfect and unharmed forever. Well done!

[Ron. Lavalette]

I, too, Faved it.  How could one not? Jesus.

[Angela]

Your reflection here is exceptional.  You just told the story with lovely restraint and deep feeling, and there was none of that sentimental stuff that puts me off so quickly.  I think your final sentence made the personal nature of this piece universal.  Hard to write about motherhood.  Very hard.  I have never tried it because I am unsure of my ability to strike such a careful balance.

[Robert Morschel]

Motherhood, beautifully depicted.

[Gita]

Ihave no words for how good this is. Just fave, fave, fave.

[Joey Delgado]

Lovely. I read line #6 over and over again just to keep the emotional connection I had with this six going. There is something superhuman about mothers, and the last line brings that point home.

[Teresa]

I was terrified for the first few sentences (the mother in me especially) that this was seizure related, that your calm was some form of unavoidable resignation.  News of the bug bite was welcome, not that someone digging around in a fresh wound is pleasant.

 

The clock detail was genius.  What time do we die?  What time is it on Mars or at the edge of the Milky Way?  Beautiful.  There are mothers, then there is motherhood.  We have all met the former, the careless incubators.  Motherhood is a fierce protective animal, capable of just about anything.  It's a spirit that enters only the bravest strongest vessels.  This is beautifully written.