can’t really remember it. i bet it was fun. for the doctor anyway, not my mom. And i doubt i had any fun, all covered in goo. why the hell did they have to slap me anyway?
Her birth was a moment I had waited for with annoyance for hours with a group of five who couldn’t stand each other. They left me, too young, waiting alone in the floor below the birthing level. It was quiet, that night, and you could hear the muffled sounds of new mothers screaming, could hear the whirring of machines in offices, the sound of a bed being rolled down the hall. Hospitals did not scare me; rather, they calmed me. I sat alone until I was allowed to see this child, the child I had promised I would hate. I fell in love with her that instant, and when her father and I made eye contact, we both burst into tears.
I started off in life with a single dollar, given to me by my uncle when I was born. It was sentimentally taped in my baby book by my mother. The gift was given in a light hearted manner, but also I think honestly with the intent that I not start out in life poor.
Wet, fresh and new, the baby emerges from the womb, soft, screaming. A shrill voice is heard, a sigh of relief from the mother. Then congratulations, the cutting of a cord. Her life will be filled with challenge and joy. Love and pain. Her mother draws shallow, deepening breaths and holds her fatherless daughter for the first time.
love chuldhood. I miss you so much you dont no wat its like when your gonel. I wish u wud come bak my life is empty without u. I love so much, but u cudnt help me. We arent right for eachother. Baby is going away, fading slowly.
Jensen stared hard at the Falls. The cool mist wafting up off of them brought a sense of re-birth to his burnt out soul. The world continues, he thought, as it smoulders through its latest beating.
Thade stepped back, breathing heavily, his body shuddering. On the table, his sister lay limp, but breathing once more. She rose, her face a bloody mess and as her face contorted into a grimace, the fresh, unclosed wounds gushed forth more. She sat, steadying herself with one arm as she gazed around the room.
what a word for mothers day. I guess you can’t help but love whatever you push through the agonizing pain for, going through all of that I would guess a mother would want it all to be worth it. that, I would think, would be where a mother’s love truly begins.
WTF. WHY DO I KEEP GETTING THE WORD BIRTH? Never do I want to birth something. It seems completely and utterly unnatural to me. Things should not stretch the way they do while giving birth. That thing that comes out of you, covered in blood and guts and placenta juice is not a baby (alien, maybe). So, no. Birth will not be happening for me anytime soon.
what a word for mothers day. I guess you can’t help but love whatever you push through the agonizing pain for, going through all of that I would guess a mother would want it all to be worth it. that, I would think, would be where a mother’s love truly begins.
Joy, worry, happiness, terror, agony.
Wanting, yearning, dreaming, envying.
Fearing. Will I make a good parent?
Can I even carry a child?
I want to.
I don’t want to.
I do want to.
I will.
Someday.
Hope.
One thing I don’t get about “birthers” is that there’s an inordinate amount of more important issues to address than what they’re gettin’ at. I’m not intensely political, just think it’s kinda ridiculous. As far as what this word means to me, I know my mother wakes up every March 5th at 2:14. Being an only child has had its good and bad, but reliability like that…doesn’t get old. Love ya Mom. It’s still Mother’s Day where you’re at…so yeah, glad we got to talk.
i thought this said bitch. Maybe I’m just a big asshole and jump to asshole-esque conclusions, but my mind lies more than my eyes to in most occurences
The beginning the start of something beautiful something new something that brings joy. Uncertainty, and new life to those around. It is in a sense everything and nothing because it happens everyday but each is unique and special.
the start of a new life. birth could mean anything. it could be a mistake, a gift, it could bring a family together or rip them apart. it also shows the innocence of the start of life, and how people take away their innocence from all the mistakes you make in your life. the people who make it the furthest remember their innocence and
The birth was painful, but then again what birth wasn’t? She barely remembered it, so far gone was she into that blissful realm of sleep deprivation and exhaustion. 52 hours, 52 hours of pushing and straining, passing out and being forced awake by that little life struggling to get out. All of that gore, strain, strife and effort, all so he could–18 years later–send her an e-card a day late for Mother’s Day. He couldn’t even spring for Hallmark…
He stared down through the microscope at the slide. A grin crossed his face and as much as he could, he could not stifle the maniacal laughter that was brewing within him. It was growing, and faster than he could ever imagine. It was all his doing and he felt like a god. Thoughts of fame and fortune filled his mind just as his crazed laughter was filling the room. However, the laughter slowed, and his grin began to fade. It was growing too fast now. The slide cracked and the glowing orange organism began overflowing not just off the slide, but off of the microscope platform. Soon it was on the table, and the scientist began to back away fearfully. Beads of sweat began gathering on his brow and his hands, now clammy, began to shake. The orange being began to pulsate as it slid off the table onto the floor, towards him, and he began to scream.
You’d think that at the birth of humanity, there would be something a little more special than a tree.
You’d see a world coming to its end, but also its beginning — a whole era of times where we left the universe in the hands of something fallible.
For we are fallible, fallible as the next person beside us. Our capacity to love gives us great measure to do great things, but also to do terrible things. Our capacity to feel makes us something beyond what we should have been, at the very core of our births.
my birth was on june 7 1989. it makes me 21 years old as of now. i’ve had a good run. i’m currently really enthralled and in like with someone who isn’t as open about their feelings as i am. its crazy. if i hadn’t been born i wouldn’t be experiencing these feelings. if i can’t experience these feelings i am not real. how do i prove my existence if my feelings don’t seem to be reciprocated?
I was just a small lad, all’s I could think of was to become an astronaut. Then one day, I was struck my a bus and then a man in a white suit came out to my aid. He just so happened to be from the fbi. I was shocked, yes. But then my dream came true sooon I was on my way
Alright so same word again different sequence perhaps. I recall when my daughters were born, both were different yet they had the same feeling. This utter sledgehammer like pain in my lower back followed by the most bliss i have ever felt. Ah motherhood.
For every culture, there is a core, often spiritual mythology that involves a creation or destruction myth. For a long time, I’ve been wanting to write about a relationship between a man and a woman, a book burner and an alleged witch, who fall in love and ultimately play out this kind of mythology between them. I can’t figure out though which of the two characters
I’m writing for, which one is me. If I in loving consume with fire and destructive impulse, or attempt to preserve and am overcome.
I don’t really think much about being born. I don’t think anyone does. You can’t remember it anyway so why bother. It doesn’t matter. It’s not something you can control, or hold down. Not something you can prevent. Being born is forced on you, by nature and life, and nature and life force shit on you the rest of your life. Birth is the indicator for the
I was born 44 years ago. It’s a blessing to have my mom with me on mother’s day. I realized today that I have not been in the habit of praying for my children. I’ve always been grateful that mom prayed for me, and want to start passing it on.
I’ve done it three times. In the span of 15 years, two boys and then one girl. I’ve done the drug-free route, attempted the epidural and then finally mastered the epidural. Ah, bliss.
you’re one with the world for the first time, crying, “hello world” through tear-jerked eyes, and your mother looks down, crying too, but you’ll never remember this moment that was the beginning of you.
and then I saw things I was never able to see before. I never let myself see before. I was a new creature. I smelled new and my hands grasped for the air around me. I was becoming the new whole, the new piece, the new part of everything.
Tomorrow’s my birthday, 21 years old. I’m a 21 year old young woman but sometimes I’m totally still 15. Can’t tell if it’s good or bad. Wish I would grow up a little more. Wish I was more mature. Oh well… (deep breath) happy birthday to me.
birth is when a human is born and it beginis its life as whatever creature it is. birth is the begining of all things and nothing can exist without birth. birth is also considered “the miracle of life” because people can’t fully understand how it happens and it is the reason lie exists in the first place. what was the first hing that was born? nobody may ever know
-When you die, where is it you go?
To the place you came from before you were born.
-Why did I leave in the first place?
Only you know the answer to that.
-Why did you leave?
So I could die.
the one that lasts the most in this life is given a gift. We are all in this world as a message to found another place for ourselves and for our children. the life art is out there and only we can paint the canvas.
I wanted to be in the room, but was shut out. I didn’t belong there and she didn’t want me to see her that way. Through the windows I couldn’t understand why, even in the pain she looked transcendent…if only I had thought to say “goodbye”.
Giving birth seems really gross. I have never seen it live, but I don’t want to. The concept of birth turns me off from having my own children one day. Ripping open a vagina with blood, tears and raging screaming does not seem pleasant in the least bit.
being born in a hospital being a baby and your mother pushing to get you out and the doctors cleaning you and clothing you and then your mother holding you and pictures being taken and family holding you and smiling and everyone being happy.
can’t really remember it. i bet it was fun. for the doctor anyway, not my mom. And i doubt i had any fun, all covered in goo. why the hell did they have to slap me anyway?
Her birth was a moment I had waited for with annoyance for hours with a group of five who couldn’t stand each other. They left me, too young, waiting alone in the floor below the birthing level. It was quiet, that night, and you could hear the muffled sounds of new mothers screaming, could hear the whirring of machines in offices, the sound of a bed being rolled down the hall. Hospitals did not scare me; rather, they calmed me. I sat alone until I was allowed to see this child, the child I had promised I would hate. I fell in love with her that instant, and when her father and I made eye contact, we both burst into tears.
I started off in life with a single dollar, given to me by my uncle when I was born. It was sentimentally taped in my baby book by my mother. The gift was given in a light hearted manner, but also I think honestly with the intent that I not start out in life poor.
Wet, fresh and new, the baby emerges from the womb, soft, screaming. A shrill voice is heard, a sigh of relief from the mother. Then congratulations, the cutting of a cord. Her life will be filled with challenge and joy. Love and pain. Her mother draws shallow, deepening breaths and holds her fatherless daughter for the first time.
love chuldhood. I miss you so much you dont no wat its like when your gonel. I wish u wud come bak my life is empty without u. I love so much, but u cudnt help me. We arent right for eachother. Baby is going away, fading slowly.
Jensen stared hard at the Falls. The cool mist wafting up off of them brought a sense of re-birth to his burnt out soul. The world continues, he thought, as it smoulders through its latest beating.
Thade stepped back, breathing heavily, his body shuddering. On the table, his sister lay limp, but breathing once more. She rose, her face a bloody mess and as her face contorted into a grimace, the fresh, unclosed wounds gushed forth more. She sat, steadying herself with one arm as she gazed around the room.
what a word for mothers day. I guess you can’t help but love whatever you push through the agonizing pain for, going through all of that I would guess a mother would want it all to be worth it. that, I would think, would be where a mother’s love truly begins.
WTF. WHY DO I KEEP GETTING THE WORD BIRTH? Never do I want to birth something. It seems completely and utterly unnatural to me. Things should not stretch the way they do while giving birth. That thing that comes out of you, covered in blood and guts and placenta juice is not a baby (alien, maybe). So, no. Birth will not be happening for me anytime soon.
what a word for mothers day. I guess you can’t help but love whatever you push through the agonizing pain for, going through all of that I would guess a mother would want it all to be worth it. that, I would think, would be where a mother’s love truly begins.
Joy, worry, happiness, terror, agony.
Wanting, yearning, dreaming, envying.
Fearing. Will I make a good parent?
Can I even carry a child?
I want to.
I don’t want to.
I do want to.
I will.
Someday.
Hope.
One thing I don’t get about “birthers” is that there’s an inordinate amount of more important issues to address than what they’re gettin’ at. I’m not intensely political, just think it’s kinda ridiculous. As far as what this word means to me, I know my mother wakes up every March 5th at 2:14. Being an only child has had its good and bad, but reliability like that…doesn’t get old. Love ya Mom. It’s still Mother’s Day where you’re at…so yeah, glad we got to talk.
i thought this said bitch. Maybe I’m just a big asshole and jump to asshole-esque conclusions, but my mind lies more than my eyes to in most occurences
The beginning the start of something beautiful something new something that brings joy. Uncertainty, and new life to those around. It is in a sense everything and nothing because it happens everyday but each is unique and special.
the start of a new life. birth could mean anything. it could be a mistake, a gift, it could bring a family together or rip them apart. it also shows the innocence of the start of life, and how people take away their innocence from all the mistakes you make in your life. the people who make it the furthest remember their innocence and
The birth was painful, but then again what birth wasn’t? She barely remembered it, so far gone was she into that blissful realm of sleep deprivation and exhaustion. 52 hours, 52 hours of pushing and straining, passing out and being forced awake by that little life struggling to get out. All of that gore, strain, strife and effort, all so he could–18 years later–send her an e-card a day late for Mother’s Day. He couldn’t even spring for Hallmark…
He stared down through the microscope at the slide. A grin crossed his face and as much as he could, he could not stifle the maniacal laughter that was brewing within him. It was growing, and faster than he could ever imagine. It was all his doing and he felt like a god. Thoughts of fame and fortune filled his mind just as his crazed laughter was filling the room. However, the laughter slowed, and his grin began to fade. It was growing too fast now. The slide cracked and the glowing orange organism began overflowing not just off the slide, but off of the microscope platform. Soon it was on the table, and the scientist began to back away fearfully. Beads of sweat began gathering on his brow and his hands, now clammy, began to shake. The orange being began to pulsate as it slid off the table onto the floor, towards him, and he began to scream.
You’d think that at the birth of humanity, there would be something a little more special than a tree.
You’d see a world coming to its end, but also its beginning — a whole era of times where we left the universe in the hands of something fallible.
For we are fallible, fallible as the next person beside us. Our capacity to love gives us great measure to do great things, but also to do terrible things. Our capacity to feel makes us something beyond what we should have been, at the very core of our births.
my birth was on june 7 1989. it makes me 21 years old as of now. i’ve had a good run. i’m currently really enthralled and in like with someone who isn’t as open about their feelings as i am. its crazy. if i hadn’t been born i wouldn’t be experiencing these feelings. if i can’t experience these feelings i am not real. how do i prove my existence if my feelings don’t seem to be reciprocated?
The very thing that brought me into existence. A meaning of life to the inquisitive, and pessimistic. A miracle to mankind.
I was just a small lad, all’s I could think of was to become an astronaut. Then one day, I was struck my a bus and then a man in a white suit came out to my aid. He just so happened to be from the fbi. I was shocked, yes. But then my dream came true sooon I was on my way
Alright so same word again different sequence perhaps. I recall when my daughters were born, both were different yet they had the same feeling. This utter sledgehammer like pain in my lower back followed by the most bliss i have ever felt. Ah motherhood.
For every culture, there is a core, often spiritual mythology that involves a creation or destruction myth. For a long time, I’ve been wanting to write about a relationship between a man and a woman, a book burner and an alleged witch, who fall in love and ultimately play out this kind of mythology between them. I can’t figure out though which of the two characters
I’m writing for, which one is me. If I in loving consume with fire and destructive impulse, or attempt to preserve and am overcome.
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
birth
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birth
My brother’s birth was my first memory as a child. He was born, we met, he became my best friend. Then they took him back.
I don’t really think much about being born. I don’t think anyone does. You can’t remember it anyway so why bother. It doesn’t matter. It’s not something you can control, or hold down. Not something you can prevent. Being born is forced on you, by nature and life, and nature and life force shit on you the rest of your life. Birth is the indicator for the
I was born 44 years ago. It’s a blessing to have my mom with me on mother’s day. I realized today that I have not been in the habit of praying for my children. I’ve always been grateful that mom prayed for me, and want to start passing it on.
I’ve done it three times. In the span of 15 years, two boys and then one girl. I’ve done the drug-free route, attempted the epidural and then finally mastered the epidural. Ah, bliss.
you’re one with the world for the first time, crying, “hello world” through tear-jerked eyes, and your mother looks down, crying too, but you’ll never remember this moment that was the beginning of you.
chile, santiago. it is one of the best feelings a mother can have, at least that’s what they say, beautiful moment, emotive, love, blood,
woman. birthday. february 4th. balloons. cake. hospital. clean. baby. pillows. soft. screaming. sleeping. earth.
and then I saw things I was never able to see before. I never let myself see before. I was a new creature. I smelled new and my hands grasped for the air around me. I was becoming the new whole, the new piece, the new part of everything.
Tomorrow’s my birthday, 21 years old. I’m a 21 year old young woman but sometimes I’m totally still 15. Can’t tell if it’s good or bad. Wish I would grow up a little more. Wish I was more mature. Oh well… (deep breath) happy birthday to me.
birth is when a human is born and it beginis its life as whatever creature it is. birth is the begining of all things and nothing can exist without birth. birth is also considered “the miracle of life” because people can’t fully understand how it happens and it is the reason lie exists in the first place. what was the first hing that was born? nobody may ever know
-When you die, where is it you go?
To the place you came from before you were born.
-Why did I leave in the first place?
Only you know the answer to that.
-Why did you leave?
So I could die.
the one that lasts the most in this life is given a gift. We are all in this world as a message to found another place for ourselves and for our children. the life art is out there and only we can paint the canvas.
I wanted to be in the room, but was shut out. I didn’t belong there and she didn’t want me to see her that way. Through the windows I couldn’t understand why, even in the pain she looked transcendent…if only I had thought to say “goodbye”.
Giving birth seems really gross. I have never seen it live, but I don’t want to. The concept of birth turns me off from having my own children one day. Ripping open a vagina with blood, tears and raging screaming does not seem pleasant in the least bit.
being born in a hospital being a baby and your mother pushing to get you out and the doctors cleaning you and clothing you and then your mother holding you and pictures being taken and family holding you and smiling and everyone being happy.
babies
screaming
pain
epidural
drugs
doctors
nurse
blood
poo
agony
pain
suffering
spread legs
pushh
breathing technique
happiest moments
boy
girl
twins
husband being happy. cut the cord. wash baby. hold baby. eyes opening. shots. screams. milk. blankets. baby blankets.