It's a Girl!

"Argh," I mumble as I try to readjust my head on my keyboard hoping that the physical connection of my forehead to the keys will somehow channel my thoughts a bit better.  It's now mid-afternoon and I have no desire to sit here hypothesising the 14 million potential branches of story that I can sew.

My mind begins to drift towards thoughts of patios...and alcohol...and friends...

And so, in an effort to salvage what is left of the day, I crack my neck to the left -- then the right, then once more to the left again.  Somehow my shoulders allow for my upper torso to become more erect, which allows for my fingers to assume their position over the keyboard.

For a brief second my mind drifts to thoughts of telepathic typing; but I am snapped out of it by the yearning want to socialize and make something of this day.

I try to ignore various story lines seeping into my consciousness, and instead, take a breath and focus on the task at hand.

Somehow, here in the silence, a story is about to be born.  Mutable screams accompany the labour -- and as the doctor wipes away the mucous and hands her to me I feign a smile of sorts.

For neither one of us asked to be put together; and yet here we are entwined in one another -- an unfortunate bi product of our union and co-existence.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I think to myself that all babies are ugly in the beginning; all skirmish and gunky with scaly skin and disproportionate features.  It's only after a couple of months of feeding them (bleeding nipples and all) that they turn out to be quite adorable.  Enticing even.

And so, knowing that the suckling will only hurt for the short-term I allow my fingers to dance along the keyboard per the babies' instructions.

This infant's demands will eventually lessen over time.

And motherhood, I am told, will become more pleasurable once she gets what she needs and ceases to continually suck what's sacredly mine from my being.