Guest Post: The power of CREATION

There are a few things that no matter how captured, the mind cannot even begin to fathom its greatness. One of those is the ability to carry another human being inside of you for a full term. It is a wonder indeed.

 

I must admit the day that I found out I was pregnant I almost temporarily blacked out, almost hitting the floor. In my mind I wasn't ready, I wasn't sure and my life, you see, hadn't worked out the way that I had envisioned. I was pretty much all alone and fearful about this great responsibility. I was numb and just tried to take it one day a time, surprised, anxious but also failing to see the blessing. I remember going to the obstetrician and she had couldn't pick up your heartbeat and indicated that more blood tests had to be done because I may have a blighted ovum, at that point, my heart skipped a beat and I was consumed by this overwhelming sadness because I may have lost you before I even had you.  I tried to disconnect and not feel too attached after all it was a few weeks and maybe it wasn't meant to be.

Blood tests came back and you were growing, happiness consumed me and that’s when I made the announcement, not too sure as to how it would be received, I went in confidently because ultimately you were my creation, my responsibility, my child. The news was so well received and most were happy (barring one confusion), but all rejoiced at the this gift I was presenting them with, the gift of chaos, gift of sleepless nights, the gift of having a little human, a gift of a different personality, different perspective. That my child you may not know, places a great deal of responsibility on your shoulders for you bring something different to this hum drum thing called life. I remember hearing your heartbeat finally, and much to my surprise how you started resembling a human, from this blob, unrecognisable blob, to this human form. When did this all happen so quickly? Oblivious to biology and life, I was expecting something squishy, weird looking with no human anatomy. But yet you were there with a strong heartbeat, alive, sleeping through the prodding and poking oblivious to our invasion in your privacy with strangers in tow. My next visit we discovered what you are, a boy. I saw your penis, in plain view. You hid your face as if you knew we were trying to prod and poke and look at you, but yet my child you let your willy hang freely while coveting your face. How strange you must be, I have a lot to teach you about public nudity!  But I must admit, if anything goes, I believe you are a shy child, enjoying the quietness and solitude of the womb. The next visits that follow, you are in foetal positions, not wanting to be disturbed as I suppose what’s going on is the completion of you.  I guess you want to be a surprise, you want me to be patient, and you want me to wonder anxiously about you. Patience I must admit isn't my strongest suit, more so with you. I wonder what type of personality you have, what riles you, what are you passionate about, what is your purpose, what will you never concede on, what are you and I going to disagree on, what similarities will you have to your father, to me, what will I teach you, what will you teach me? All these questions lead to the impatience of waiting for you, you see, I cannot wait! Beyond the cute little fingers and small feet, your complete reliance on me, I'm impatient on what type of man you will become.

I commit to teach you to the best of my ability and action, that you can stand up and be different from everyone, that you will need to be strong because, you see, when you stand for something you believe in, you may not have an audience, your friends will change and leave you, you will go through dark moments, through happiness, you may want to change the world and fail, but its ok, someone watched you and got inspired. My son, you have purpose, live it, breathe it, stand it. And I hope that your choice in a mother will not disappoint you too much, but I hope that in my humanness you appreciate my faults and now that through it all, I love you with my entire being. A love that I knew I had, just waiting for you. For now, I appreciate your gentle to rather violent kicks and jabs in my belly, how you love when you push against my stomach and I massage your little back, it tells me you live, you’re healthy, you can move. I appreciate how your body grows so quickly bearing heavily on my back, my often graceless waddle as you pinch the nerves making it difficult to walk. I appreciate how you communicate your complete dislike of things by switching off my appetite to certain foods and occasional throw up. I appreciate how I see my body changing, sometimes curious but a sense of pride that I'm part of this miracle. 

Thank you my child, for choosing me, for loving me, for showing me that I can be selfless, and the ability to know that when I choose you I always win.

I have been waiting for you, wondering about you before you came. And here you are, in my favour to bare you. 

Nonkululeko Manyika

Menstruation

Disclaimer: this article is intended for sensitive readers...

I started my menstrual cycle in my last year of primary school when I was 12 years old. My mom, having a health background has always been open to me about sexual education. I did not have to wait for the Life Skill class to learn about gonorrhoea so it was not difficult for me to approach my mother when the first spotting happened. Although it was not a taboo subject in our house, I found that my school mates found it difficult to talk about menstrual periods so we all just hid it from each other. Issues such as menstruation are not freely spoken about within our society, if anything, the narrative around periods is often synonymous to shame and contamination. My mother once told me a story about her first period. Word was that your period meant that you were pregnant. The anxiety that came with thinking she was pregnant led her to hiding her periods from her family for a while up until her sister found out; even then it was to be kept between them. Although sexual education in our schools is progressive in the fact that information is available, not much is done to demystify the narrative around menstrual periods.

I'm 31 years old now and not once in my menstrual cycle have I run out of sanitary towels (otherwise known as pads). Out of the fear of running out, I keep my pads everywhere. In my cupboards, in my bags, in my car – everywhere! Sometimes when some (you know we have to say some right? *side eye) of my male friends come across my pads, one can see the obvious discomfort they feel. This discomfort is often followed by expressions such as “ewwwwwwww” or “what is this doing here, so disgusting!” I never understand what is so disgusting about sanitary towels. I am still waiting to be enlightened.

September was a tough month for me, I was under immense pressure so when my period started I was totally caught off-guard with no pad in sight. I still don’t know how I managed to run out of pads but I could not find even one. None in my cupboards, none in my bags and not even in my car, absolutely nothing! A big deadline was threatening and I knew that if I went out to buy some, my creative juices would not give me a second chance. I was in a predicament and if I needed to get my work done, I had to seize the opportunity that these juices had granted me. I started tabulating various ways I could deal with my flow while I finished my work. My mom’s story came to mind, she used newspapers before her sister enlightened her. Another option was to use toilet paper but I had received more than enough lectures on how I would contract all sorts of diseases if I used toilet paper during my periods. These were desperate times and certain risks needed to be taken. And so, Alas, toilet paper it was. The first day is always my heaviest flow so I was tortured by leakage therefore my visits to the bathroom were quite frequent. I went through that roll in no matter of time. I was in a bad mood and felt tortured.

Although I managed to finish my work, the experience left me a bit irritated. I decided to take a bath before going out to buy some pads. Exhaustion must have got the better of me because I passed out.  All I remember after taking my bath was sitting on my bed to read a chapter from a poetry book and the next thing (four hours later), my eyes opened and I was totally out of it. Forgetting that I was on my periods, I stood up without thought and yep, all I felt was a gush of liquid racing down my thighs. I clinched my thighs as I took the long walk to the bathroom. I ran a bath again and dipped myself and shed some tears (I shed tears quite often). I started thinking about all those women and girls who go through this on a monthly basis; those who do not have access to pads. A friend once brought up a very valid point during a discussion on sanitary towels “we have free condoms in the bathrooms but why do we never see free pads?”

The next day I had a lunch meeting with a very good friend of mine and he picked that something was bothering me. I related this story to him and to my shock; he had a look of disgust on his face pleading to stop telling him as he could not deal with the imagery. Mind you, he has two daughters and when I asked how he would be dealing with daughters should something like this happen to them. He said that is why they have a mother. But what if the mother is not around and his daughter starts her first period? What then? How can we be comfortable with watching horror and action movies where blood gets gushed all over but when it comes to the menstrual blood, blue liquid has to be used just so that people are comfortable?