Etched in Deep...

I really have given up TV for the most part. I still hold a soft spot in my heart for Chuck and Bones. That's it. :) And thanks to Hulu, I can watch them whenever I want. (Oh, and I enjoy the weather before falling asleep. MAN, I'm so old.)

And Bones is particularly fascinating to me, because, regardless of the fictional nature of the show, the SCIENCE is real. Bones tell your life story.

So, as I hobble around miserably sore, aching into my very bones from raking the back yard yesterday and from a chiropractor who was "out of the office" today (BLAH BLAH BLAH!) I know this baby is etching himself in my bones. My very bones.

Just like Henry did. Before him, my bones were those of a woman who'd never had a child. If they found me in a thousand years, nothing but bone, they'd see it instantly, "female, never gave birth". But once he was mine, that changed forever. Then Spencer simply wrote it deeper in, Oliver and his misery of a pregnancy absolutely drove that truth in deeper and then underlined it for good measure. And now, this little dude, spinning, swirling and I swear, using my pelvis as a chin-up bar (he'll be strong, right?) is making sure it's written on my bones in bold font.

I know it doesn't require a birth to be a mother. With a brother who is adopted, I know it's not necessary at all. Women can be mothers in many many ways.  But that doesn't change that birthing children permanently alters a person physically. For example my stretch marks would make you cry. So I won't show you. I did earn them though.

Physically, I'm these wack-a-doos' mother. There is no denying it. I wouldn't want it any other way.

It's written on my bones.

From Nov 2010