Jarin Schexnider
Vancouver, BC
You Can Sleep While I drive
In May of 2020, I became a new mother. For July Project I wanted to give myself time to reflect on that fact. Here are some of those reflections.
Tara joked that it’s still March in late July.
I’ll have to explain to him someday—how that’s funny.April March May March June March.
Which is funny, he’ll see.
Days may well push past each other
rushing or is it hushing.
It’s some
well
thing
how words
pushing past each other
how waiting or is it wanting
to be first in line first comes to mind.
As soon as the world changes
it’s hard to remember what came before.
These the very worlds I’ll have to explain someday.
Holding fast
the things I am not.
I am not the me before that long drive in September fourteen years ago.
before that late morning in July eight years ago.
before that long night in May zero years ago.
It’s funny that we think time is anything at all.
Reaching slow
the things I am.
I am a heart right here comprised
(which I mean to say in a clinical sort of way)
of beats each a moment of time
unconditional
(which I mean to say in a love sort of way).
Time is moments that remain as moments—
the time I watched the rain and it fell.
Relative to those I don’t recall though they have made me—
when I don’t watch the rain, it still falls.
And March marches on.
The beginning has begun
he is already who he will become.
How can I explain?
A heavy load
this long road of letting go.
my hands
never reminded me of
my mother’s
until you saw them
A signed agreement
Highly scheduled sex
A fragile secret
Sharp, all-encompassing anxiety
Nausea
Fear of losing you
An aversion to all breakfast foods except avocado on toast
A mullet I instantly and shatteringly regretted
Napping through entire TV show seasons
A grisly episode in the public washroom at the film festival.
An announcement – a new way of being seen
A pinched nerve and a numb left leg
An over active thyroid gland
Not so all-encompassing anxiety
Sciatica
RH incompatibility shots
Leg hair that altogether stopped growing for six months
Fear of hurting you
Asthma
Bi-weekly blood work
A sudden and unbearable allergy to my cat
Low hemoglobin
My father’s casual comparison to my late mother’s pregnancy – a single dose
A pandemic
Legs swelling
Bleeding gums
Isolation
Iron transfusion number 1
Avoidance of buttons, doorknobs, groceries, strangers and friends alike
Hemorrhoids
Group B strep (found not in my throat)
Stretch marks and an unrecognizable belly button
Iron transfusion number 2
A truly ridiculous amount of walks
And sex.
A day of funny little contractions
Potato chip jigsaw puzzle, cherry ice cream, dancing in the living room
A day of not so funny little contractions
Counting, breathing, focus in your father’s eyes
A bath I didn’t want and a popsicle I didn’t finish
A night of howling enduring bearing contractions.
Holding you – a stranger
Trembling
Fear
Warmth
Silence
Stitches in my vagina
A prolapsing bladder
Drenched in night sweats.
A new home
A new you
A new life.