Thursday, March 15, 2012

Finding a Piece of Me {A Bigger Picture Moment}

He had fallen asleep.
His 6' 1" frame, curled up under two hospital blankets, sought strength and warmth.
The IV was putting back what the flu had stolen during the night.
As I watched him breath - easily, steadily - I knew we were OK. Beyond OK.
A nasty flu, a little dehydration. Annoying and painful. But no big deal.
The clock said said 2:55, but my body said "later than that".
The halls were filled with subdued conversations, beeping monitors and racing footsteps.
The tension had settled between my shoulder blades.
In the quiet of our dimly lit room, my own breathing slowed.
And I was glad to be alone with my thoughts.
I reached into my purse and found a scrap of paper and a pen.
I started to write.
As the ink met the page, I felt the tension drain from my back.
I wrote out some angry feelings.
I wrote out some questions and worries and {what a surprise} a few more angry feelings.
Nothing to do with being a mom in the ER.
I'm easily at peace with whatever's asked of me as a mom.
Just thoughts from the day.
Whatever thoughts surfaced, I let them out ~ allowed them to take form on the page.
Like I have so many times before.
But for some reason, in that unplanned moment and in that unlikely space....
I felt more strongly connected to writing than I ever have.
In the middle of a very bad day, I felt sure of something.
Something about me. For the very first time.
There's a piece of me that is a writer.
And it feels a bit scary, but somehow better, to put that out there.

The quiet, sleeping company of a child. My child.
The simple act of putting words on a page.

Quiet. Simple. Better.

Simple BPM
This week the Bigger Picture blog link up is
at Hyacynth's Place.


  1. Oh, yes! I know this feeling, but you said it here in such a lovely and urgent way. You *are* a writer. It's so clear in this post.

    (and thank goodness for scraps of paper at hand to scribble it down when it needed to come out)

  2. I agree, you ARE a writer.

    Im glad he's ok! how scary!

  3. Even though it wasn't a huge deal that brought you to the hospital in the bigger scheme, it is unsettling to be there with your child none-the-less. It leaves you feeling vulnerable and at times of vulnerability the extra "stuff" is stripped away. We get in touch with who we really your case, a writer.

  4. I'm so lucky that I have never been to the ER with my children, but have waited in hospital waiting rooms more times than I care to count. Writing is definitely a wonderful thing! (My mom turned to knitting when my brother was in the ICU, but I was never good at that!)

  5. you are a beautiful writer adrienne, gifted i would say!! you express your emotions so clearly, often painfully clear.

    we will ALWAYS be moms!! you have to be one to know what that means!!

  6. I am glad that he's okay... You are a writer and a mom and you do it all beautifully !

  7. Oh Adrienne! There is nothing more all consuming to a mother than a sick or injured child. Even all grown up, I am sure that your son was so grateful to have you by his side. Also, don't these situations seem to be the moments that push us forward into talents that we were tip toeing toward?

    One of my best and oldest friends is starting to really focus on her writing and you might want to go over to her blog and say hello; I think you all would get along. :)

  8. I could feel the power in this moment. You ARE a writer.

    I'm so glad your son's okay!

  9. Powerful post, Adrienne. They're our babies: no matter if they are 6'1"!!!

  10. I love when that happens! Feeling a connection to writing can be so powerful and empowering. I'm so glad you had that. Yes, you are a writer.

  11. Writing therapy -- God's gift to the writer. So glad everything is well with your son, Adrienne. So glad everything is well in your heart and head, too.

  12. You are an amazing writer. I'm glad he is okay.