Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul



Labor Pains


So this last week I didn’t have any chance to write because my son is teething.  It’s not getting any better, it’s the same.  He’s cranky, in pain, and clinging onto me all day every day.  Not an optimum situation for someone who needs time to be creative. I guess when other mothers say that things will only get better when his teeth cut through is right.  The problem is they never prepare you for this.

Actually, mothers don’t prepare you for anything!!!  I like to think of myself as someone who can tolerate pain so I was mentally prepared to face labor pains.  I had my birthing plan in place and knew that birthing was a part of nature and mothers, for decades, have been doing it naturally.

Come March 2nd, I’m sitting in my pajamas working on salaries when my water broke.  Splash.  LITERALLY splash!  My husband was away on vacation, my mom was cooking lunch, and I just had to finish the salaries because no-one else can do them.  I sat down for a few minutes just to save the file and handed it over to my sister.  I was then admitted to the hospital when I still remained smiling, excited, and under control.

Yeah right.

The pain was fairly bearable in the beginning.  It was an interesting experience until things started getting serious.  The nurse was nice but she didn’t know what I was going through.  She might have given birth previously but I was the one in labor.  She sees this everyday, this is her job.  But for me it was just OH MY GOD!!

Being in pain, I wanted to talk to the fairly nice nurse and ask her when this will be over.  She said soon and couldn’t really answer.  Come on, who can answer this question?  So then I asked her is this pain normal?  She said, this is moderate pain and giggled.


If this is moderate pain, what is real pain?

Well, It got worse… much worse… really quickly…

I never thought I would but I gave in the the epidural and was still screaming.

Word of advice:  TAKE ALL DRUGS AVAILABLE TO EASE YOUR PAIN!!!  You don’t need to torture yourself, you don’t hate yourself, do you?

So  hours (which seemed like months later), I gave birth to my baby.  I was so happy and relieved the pain stopped.  They say the body gets filled with happiness (hormones and such, I’ve never been into biology much) but I think the body was just in shock.  It really is a miracle you’re alive!

Later on, I’m siting on the hospital bed and my aunt walks in and asks, “how was labor?  Is it what you expected?”  It took ALL my willpower not to say something rude, she was being satirical and she loved it.  It was an inside joke but you know what?  I wasn’t laughing.

A year and a bit later, I understand why mothers don’t tell expectant mothers the truth: if anyone knew the extent of the pain they would never consider having a baby.  Plus, I just LOVE walking in to hospital rooms and ask “how was labor?  Is it what you expected?  HAHAHA join the club.

Today’s (and everyday) specials: pain, lack of time, and no energy.  Oh, and an amazing miracle you know is worth it.

I love you, my boy.  Hope you feel better.

Little Girl


The little girl loves to skip, dance, and run.  You hear her little feet tread so softly on the sand and her little steps are everywhere.  She goes outside to hold her pet duck disregarding the fact that it’s double her size and smells so bad.  She climbs on sofas and jumps from chair to chair just to hear everyone in the house shout “stop!”

She seeks attention all day, everyday.  She holds onto her mother’s hand (and leg, and head, and shoulder) with her sweet soft hands.  A butterfly.  She holds onto her aunt’s hand (and leg, and head, and shoulder) with her sweet soft hands. She does the same to her grandmother, grandfather, and uncles. Her touch, so soft, so sweet, and so manipulative.

She shows compassion to others.  Her love for her family shines through her big eyes… and she smiles. Beams and fills the house with warmth.

She giggles, laughs, and dances like a princess.  She wears her long Elsa dress and knows very well the accessories that go with it.  Knows that it’s supposed to have a long tail and her hair must be braided. She plays the role so well and takes the issue seriously.  It’s Frozen! Her favorite!!

She wants to go outside.  I tell her she needs to change and she does.  Gets her thin legs into her leggings so quickly “Let’s go!” she says enthusiastically.  And we leave.

Sheer innocence while she swings, “higher, higher!” And I push her higher.  She drops her slippers into the sand “My slipper!” So she stops, gets the slipper, and gets back up.

She falls, and tears run down her cheeks.

“There’s blood!”

“It’s just a scrape”

“I need ice!”

Minutes later… “Is it gone?”

“No, it’ll be gone by Friday.”

A few more minutes later… “Is it gone?”

“No it’ll be gone by Friday”

So Thursday, she falls on her lip.

Don’t grow up too fast.  Stop growing and just be.  Be free to play, be free to run, be free to dance.  Be free, little girl, to play with your duck and your toys.  Be free, little girl, to watch TV and listen to stories. Be the little three year old we love and cherish and skip over into our heart and soul.

Dedicated to my little niece: Malak.  You bring happiness wherever you go, sunshine.

Best Friends Forever


She started questioning everything and everyone.  Things she once thought were given truths are now unknown.  Her life was hazy, she didn’t have anyone to turn to and it was one of the most difficult phases in her life.  

She sighed.
She recalled her childhood: things at school were as dramatic as they would be for all students throughout the generations.  Issues and fights over toys and clothes and best friends and so forth.  Best friends.  She went through all grades in her mind and one face kept popping up.  A familiar face from her childhood.  A face she once knew so well they pinkie swore they would never lose touch.

But they did.  A really long time ago.

They never had a falling out, just a drifting apart.  Things like this happen.  Junior high is over and all of a sudden you’re not even talking to your best friend.  You start hanging out in different circles and even though you live a block away, you just never meet up, never bump into each other, and never speak.  As if the sleep-overs never were and the secret signals weren’t a part of your childhood.

She smiled.

I’m sure she remembers our code names.

It took her a few months to gather the courage to contact her childhood friend.  She thought it would have been awkward to just give her a call.  Plus, she doesn’t have her number.  She remembered the kind of friendship they had and the great times they shared.  It’s a good thing they’re friends on Facebook.

She sent a message, “Shortskin, this is Waldo, are you there?”

Time stopped and she was transferred back to the 80’s.

A few minutes passed.  She panicked, I’m sure she’s busy with her life.  What am I doing?  What am I expecting from her?  Beep.

“Shortskin here, what’s up Waldo?”

“Papa’s dead.”

“…I’m coming over”

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