Time means nothing. Nothing at all. Eighty seven hours so far? Is that what they said talking about me like I’m not here in this body. It’s the body and the baby they focus on. I’m in here if you want to know is she Latina ask me bitches I’m right here! Talking behind my head here comes one. Pain it comes from far away, a distance away. From some other place then it is here now ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Remembered not to hold my breath that time. Make the noise. Helps, not sure how. Sacred ohm sounding, but doula didn’t get it when I told her. Minute and a half? Means nothing. Time stretches and contracts like me stretches contracts dilates, not like me. Never felt it like this before. Feel it undulating with me during, when. Pushing through me like a wave in a tube. How many centimeters. Just a bit left they said. Stuck. Watching me watching them sharpening the knives. Give her one more hour then cut her open, get it done. Walk more. Rock. Birth ball. Dance shuffle side to side. Again same hallway again. Walk. Come on. Anesthesiologist checking in. Standing by. Wants to go to lunch probably. Plotting. Here comes one, distant traveler, coming closer, time unduuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuulaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatiooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum.
Oh. Never ends. I live here now. The after, it went more quickly than they say. I am fine between. Ready. Should have ignored midwife. Get in the bath she said, slow it down so you can rest. Rest my ass. Pretending to sleep so he could sleep. I need him later. Rest, you’ll never rest again. Pain worse lying down. Pacing in patterns. I don’t remember the first day much. Now. All that is. Everything and nothing. Time shortened and lengthened together. When the pain comes time comes with it, squeezing. A peristaltic now. They told me not to eat. Don’t vomit when we slice into you. Sneaking food. Can’t do it for this long just on fumes. Inhumane. Do they remember my humanity. I am a human body and no more. I was in here too. Before. Then there’s that one at her computer. Recording angel obstetric nurse who never had a baby. The miracle of life, the beauty of birth, shut the fuck up. Coming now. She’ll see it on her monitor. Hasn’t looked at me in hours. Like a visit from purity of and God and pain and pain. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
Oh Christ I am running out of time. I need help. help me. help me. Grandma come. I need you. Show up. Everybody out grandma come. Hello. Hand on my face. smile. She looks. And then she is with. Mamama. Mamama here. Hello. Hello. Help me Mamama. She stands aside and a veiled woman. Older. Mamama touches my hair, holding me calm. The veiled woman her hands inside me swirling in patterns, pushing, moving, gentle. What. They look at each other. Nod. Mamama. Oh she is holding me I’m in her arms so little and she loves me. She loves me. I was special to her. I didn’t know. I didn’t know her. She loves me. Look she says with her eyes. Look and I’m holding him, my beauty love. I’m holding him. She’s gone so fast and he’ll be here now. He’s coming now. She has me, we’ll be ok. Thank you. Thank you.
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