It all began in the early hours of December. A week before Christmas and the chill was unforgiving.
I was engulfed in a thick fluid that provided nutrients and life. I was surrounded by a homely cocoon from a woman, I had yet to know her name. But when I felt her, I knew she felt me. Every bump and every beat, she felt me in there kicking my premature feet. It had gotten roomier in there since my buddy last left me. Left with me another empty sac that was lifeless and without movement. When the doctors check they shook their heads and bowed them in sorrow. They would schedule a procedure to suck out the insides of my mother’s stomach by tomorrow. Said something about an emptiness, that needed attending. In disbelief she held her belly close. She knew she felt something in there, I wasn’t just a ghost. I’m sure that I kicked, and I kicked just to assure her. She knew that something wasn’t right, but she wouldn’t let this appointment spoil her. She wandered around pregnant and found a different doctor, same news they declared with a shake of their head, not a bother to check again. I must’ve been hiding from the life that welcomed me. But I was resilient, and I fought strong, I came out fighting only 4 ounces and 4 pounds. Two months before planned, I made my escape. I must’ve caused something like an earthquake to shake the cocoon out of place.
This is the story of my escape into the world. I may be little, but I’ve always had a big heart and the might to do anything I set my mind to. I’m grateful for my dad who continues to push me to be my best self despite loss and failed attempts at adulthood. I have always used writing as an outlet to help me overcome and heal from the things I couldn’t speak aloud. Over the past few years, I’ve learned to turn my quiet demeanor into a silent manner of words written and expelled. I hope to share my words to inspire, inform and be a helpful bookish hand.