I sit, crouched in the brush, eyes wide, breathing heavy. I try to slow my breath so they won’t find me. Innnnn, outttttt, shhhhhhh. I am repeating this mantra in my head over and over. I’m kicking myself for wearing a bright red cardigan and my favorite perfume today. They will probably find me. Actually, why was I even here in the first place? Coming into the earnings of my great aunt, who had suddenly died, was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I had imagined exploring the world. Going to places undiscovered. My uncle had advised me to buy a place to live and settle down. But, why? I had never been out of the country before. Let alone, Africa. Ohhh, why did I have to choose Africa?? Paw thumps on the ground bring me out of my thoughts. I lower myself even more, trying to be as close to the ground as possible. Slow, even breathing now I’m trying to plan my escape again. I was with a tour safari group a few hours ago. Until our small jeep was ransacked by a pack of she-lions. Africa was in the worst drought in history and the prey was dying off. These big lions were trying to find anything they could. Our jeep tire had become lodged in a mud plot, a small pond had evaporated. We were absolutely stuck. The four of us in back were instructed to sit tight while the driver got out and tried to free us. He told us we were in Lion-Land. All of the sudden he jumped back in the car and told us to get down! As I was bending over, out of the corner of my eye, I saw five, giant lions surrounding us. One of the gals, I assumed the leader, had jumped up on the driver’s side window and smashed her paw through the glass. The driver tried to dodge her and jump to the passenger side. But all at once, she crashed her entire head through the rest of the breaking glass and pulled the driver out by his neck through the small entrance, encased in her sharp teeth. He didn’t even make a sound. At least it was quick.

Under the brush now, I can see four of the five lions approaching, raising their noses to the air to catch my scent. They were relentless. They wouldn’t stop. I was the only one left. They were about ten paces away from me. I carefully look around again, there was just no where left to go. I had successfully averted them three times now. The leader of their pride I could tell was growing angry. I knew she wouldn’t stop until she had all five of us. One for each of her family with her -they had to survive. I knew behind me was a large, stone wall of sorts. I was in the brush at the base. To my sides, the rock face ran at least thirteen yards in both directions. Too long a distance to dart away, too high to climb. I was doomed. Suddenly I can hear the paws stop. I look forward again, and I can see them all standing in a close group. The alpha turns her head behind her and makes a sound to her partners. They reluctantly disperse back in the direction we all came. Then she turns her eyes straight. Right at me. I try to stifle tears as she starts inching closer, and closer…closer. She has a look, a look that says she’s got me now. I know I shouldn’t run because that would make it all the more exciting for her. I decide to stay there and accept my fate. I lay on the ground and curl up. This time I let my tears fall. I hear her. She’s very near. Small sticks from the brush crack under her tremendous weight. I feel her hot breath on the back of my neck and she starts smacking her teeth. She‘s purring. How insidious.

This is it….

*THUD*

The noise was so startling, I jumped to all fours. The lion lay there, in front of me -still and…dead. Dead? What? My eyes dart around her body in a snap to try and grasp what just happened. I see in her neck a small needle-like stick. I cautiously move just a bit closer to see it clearer, and I immediately back off. Just the smell makes me woozy. Some gravel falls behind me from the top of the rock. I freeze. My eyes wide. I collect that whoever saved my life is probably up there. Who is it? Do I dare turn around? I decide to look, I always have to look. Maybe after-all I will buy a house and settle down when I get home…if I make it home. I’m done with adventure for this lifetime. I take a deep breath and turn around. There, at the top of the rock is a very large man. He has the biggest muscles I have ever seen. He has paint all over in beautiful yet daunting symbols, and he’s completely nude besides a small cloth. He looks at me with wild eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking. I don’t want to find out. I get up and I start running as fast as I can. Anywhere. When I get some distance I decide to glance behind me. Bad idea. The man is right on my tail. How did he get down so fast? I try to pick up my pace, but I’m too tired. I decide to call it quits. I collapse on the ground to accept my fate, once again. He catches up and stops above me. He pulls my shoulders and makes me sit up. His eyes are the most stunning brown I have every seen. So much story in them. I search his face for any emotion of what he might be thinking but there’s none, he’s a statue. And just like that he picks me up and slings me over his shoulders. I make a huge fuss, kicking and screaming. He has a hard time holding me, so he drops me hard on the ground. Ouch. He shakes his head at me, I knew that was the universal sign for “knock it off.” I wouldn’t, though. He slings me up again and I repeat my fit. This time I feel his hand and a tremendous pressure on my neck. Things start fading to black and sleep is coming fast.…where are you taking me? Ohhh why’d I have to choose Africa?

Bubbly laugh

Lovely curls

Bright eyes

Courage to kill Orcs

Mommy’s heart clasped

Wrapped all the way around

my finger

So big now

Knowing just how to love me

A baby not long ago

Settling in my arms

Goofy smiles

Rolls and rolls

My little man

My sidekick

My sunshine

My happy

Coming to three

Change of status

Goodbye curls

Growing up

How my heart aches

Missing my baby

Sever the ties

Excruciating

You saved me

So I start letting you go...

What is a heart that none can mend

Leaving him there for the days work

I stir longingly at home with this ache

Wishing the day would end

He writes he feels the same

His heart breaks when he can’t hear my voice

But the morning dew still sits on the daisies

Time apart is cruel game

We wander far alone

But still somehow feel each others warmth

Going about our day’s bewilderment

Having the warmth, not touching the heart is sadness in our bones

Finally the sun starts to get drowsy

I hear the engine roar as he drives in

I paint my smile to make him happy

It’s been a long haul, I don’t want him feeling lousy

He comes in through the door

He can tell the day I’ve had

I can tell the work was hard

We need not say anymore

He envelopes me in the most amazing grasp

It’s hard to paint a smile when I feel happy

I breathe and pull in closer

At last our hearts we clasp

My favorite time of day is in the morning.

The young morning, when the dawn is bouncing off the one I love. His skin is so beautiful in those moments, right before the illustrious light of the sun peaks. His being beams with an immensely pure glow. My heart aches; I never want it to end. I gaze at him. I breathe him in. The Early Light of the morning is slowly fading....

Please don’t end. Stay.

His eyes blink open. He sleepily grins.

“What are you staring at?”

Identity is lost, somewhere forgotten.

Picking up the strings of yesterday, while grasping the seconds that pass too quickly as today disappears.

Nothing feels the same. Everyone is always yelling, there’s so many tears. So many smiles to force.

Seeking to find oneself again is a task that even the strongest man would find difficult.

Crawling up that mountain with eyes squinted. Rocks falling all around. Scraping knees on the loose dirt while trying to keep balance. The wind howls and it starts to rain.

The dirt washes away to mud and the wading begins.

Falling down, over and over. Nearly drowning as the bottom is reached again and it’s flooding now.

Don’t give up.

Brace.

Keep crawling. Keep crawling until the halfway point is reached. Maybe go beyond.

Someday I’ll find my identity.

Congratulations! Everyone says it as you’re whisked out of the delivery room, up to the recovery floor. You try to give somewhat of a smile as all the sweet eyes of the nurses and people you pass offer theirs. 
What an experience you just had. Never mind how your child came. Cesarean, vaginal, natural, drugged.. it’s all birth, and it can all be traumatic. 
They get you settled into your room and you put your baby’s skin to yours and breathe her in. You feel the whimpers start to come, and your body shakes as you remember what you just went through. Deep breaths.
Housekeeping comes to take your tray you barely picked off of, after not eating for a full 36hrs. You’re not hungry. You’re sore and exhausted and you just want to sleep. 
Closing your eyes now all you can see is your delivery all over again. Silent tears fall and you grimace at the gore you’re witnessing behind your eyelids. How did you just do that? Sleep overrules, and you drift off...


Discharge time. Everyone is “okay” and you head home. Finally sinking into your comfy bed and able to sleep wrapped in your favorite blanket. Baby is close to your chest and you enjoy the heaviness of her there.
24hrs later, you’re expected to get out of bed and go to the pediatrician with your baby. You muster the strength to rise in your soreness and shower. Maybe you’ll feel more human. You contemplate not going, but remember how fast they are to alert CPS of a missed appointment of this sort. You sigh. You decide to wear slippers. Baby goes into her sleeper and you’re off.


Every bump in the road is like hell to your body. Jerking you this way and that as you tense so it won’t hurt as bad.
Arrival at the doctor is met with a sparkling smile and a load of paperwork. You balance your fussy baby in one arm and manage to fill it all out. She’s hungry and you want your bed back now. Your headache comes again and you lean against the wall and close your eyes for a second. Everything hurts... 
They call the baby’s name and you’re put in room 3. After they weigh and measure and make the baby mad, you’re ushered to sit in a hard, plastic chair and wait for the pediatrician. Your stitches hurt. No matter which way you shuffle, the burning doesn’t leave.
You adjust your bra and cloth pads, and your cracked and bleeding nipples stick to the fabric. She has a lip tie. Breastfeeding never comes easy for you. You want to cry as she start to suck on her hands. She’s hungry. How do you feed her here with all the work you have to do to get her to latch properly? 
You manage. Pretty much the same way you’ve been ‘managing’ all day. 
The pediatrician comes in, and of course! the baby is perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. You knew that. You get up to dress the baby and the pain of standing is almost too much. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realize your hair is an absolute mess, and you’re so pail. Dizzy too. Bed sounds nice. They schedule another appointment for two weeks later and wave bye. You remember you have to schedule your postpartum check with you midwife too. Sigh.


Back home, snuggled with your bug, your mind is whirling with thoughts and emotions. Sifting through your experience in labor and trying to figure out why so much is expected out of a fresh mommy, who just brought a life into the world. No celebration for her. Puppies usually aren’t legally allowed to leave their moms until they’re eight weeks old. If you work, you’d only have five and a half weeks left with your baby full-time. Six weeks. That’s it. No time for healing. Of any sort. How are we NOT supposed to get depressed?
A lot of us have support. MOST of us don’t.
We need to change.
This needs a revamp....


Congratulations! Everyone says it as you’re whisked out of the delivery room, up to the recovery floor. You try to give somewhat of a smile as all the sweet eyes of the nurses and people you pass offer theirs.
They get you settled into your room and you put your baby’s skin to yours and breathe her in. You feel the whimpers start to come, and your body shakes as you remember what you just went through. Deep breaths.


Yeah, deep breaths, mama... so much is expected of you.
T-24hrs.....


No one was there when I climbed out of my sludge. When I found myself lying helplessly in the midst of it, dead, not breathing.

I touched my skin and it was cold. There was no spark here. I knew had to fight to bring me back to life. I had to fight for me.

I reminisced how I was so very alone when I collected the colors of my war paint from each failure and heartbreak and pain. So many dead ends. So many missed targets. I had to find my spark, I had to find my heartbeat so I could return to the death and bring me back.

All I could see was me lying there, helplessly, in that abyss of darkness.

Through powerlessness, I learned perseverance. I gathered my own arrows, and chose to stop dying over and over when I missed my target -until my brain learned the right way to think. I taught my mouth the correct language to speak.

Words of death only bring death.

Words of life only bring life.

And slowly but surely, that life, that sun, creeps in through the cracks of the trees when the morning is finally dawning. You feel the warm of the spotty light on your skin. It resonates through your pores into your inner being. The being that is so dark. That’s only used to the night. Over time when the sun is rising higher and higher, that being is smaller and smaller, and you have the strength to rise. The sludge disappears into a beautiful bed of daisies. You sit up. The rays shine on your cheeks, and you greet yourself with a gentle smile and reach out. That touch, that connection is nothing you’ve felt before. You know now, you are truly alive. You did it. You won. You don’t have to fight anymore. You wash your paint -but the stains remain. The scars of tremendous wars fought in the past.

...and you realize with tears streaming down your face..

You’re finally free. You found your spark, your heartbeat.

Who was the rescuer?

Who brought me out? Who saved me? Who fought for me with all their might?

The rescuer?

This rescuer...

...was me.