Hello, fellow abyss dwellers! I’m writing to tell you, I finished a collection about the grief that has burdened the women in my family for generations. This collection is about sadness, but also about joy. Without one, we cannot have the other. Many of the poems in this collection revolve around my daughter, starting with “The Birth.”
My daughter was supposed to be a vbac. For those of you who don’t know, that’s a “vaginal birth after cesarean.” My first child was born eighteen months before, which is the minimum time between births in order to try for a vbac. I always knew there was a posibility of an emergency c-section. What I didn’t know is my baby was 11 pounds and 6 ounces. They did, indeed, have to do emergency surgery. My uterus was seconds away from bursting and I was in so much pain I barely remember a thing. Other than hearing how big she was and my response, which was simply, “you’re lying.” That’s a BIG baby. She shattered the hospital record for biggest baby by a full pound.
People often ask me “are you okay” when they hear how large she was. The answer to that question is complicated. My body has been through it. But, I survived. Not only did I survive, I insisted on being transported to the NICU she was transferred to the second I was legally allowed to leave. Then, I stood up and started walking a mere 16 hours after being sewn up. For five days, I advocated for my daughter. I fought the nurses who refused to feed her the breastmilk I provided. I stayed in the NICU as much as I was able to. I watched her oxygen levels on the machines and I begged the nurses to let me stay with her until she was released.
I often doubt myself. But when I do, I remember the five days after my daughter was cut from my abdomen and I think about how hard I fought for her and I realize I can do absolutely anything if I set my mind to it.
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This untitled collection’s release date is TBA. Subscribe for updates on this project, my upcoming book “Of Verbena and Vitriol,” and new poems every weekend!
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