Elizabeth Kerr
Stories (4/0)
The Third Child
I’m afraid to say yes to a third child as my other little ones reach the ages of 3 and 5 at alarming speed. With birthdays looming at the start of spring I stare hollowly at my ovulation calendar. Again and again red dates followed by purple circles stare up at me from a flat screen. No matter how fast I scroll I cant scroll away fast enough at the last black dot. The marker of what should have been the fourth child. Every month I scoff at the ovulation reminder and angrily log my period dates and symptoms while my significant other stares longingly at the dates with purple circles. I wish he could understand this pain inside my soul, and how it webs and flows similarly to the ocean and how it takes pieces of my sanity with every high tide. At low tide I can joke airily with my sister about her future nieces and nephews; I can laugh with my father as he jokes about another prodigy. At low tide I can piece together dream nurseries online and congratulate my friends and family as they post birth announcements on social media. At low tide I am okay enough to imagine life with another physical child. And all too soon the waves start to push ashore again; faster and faster. The crashing upon the shores of my heart cry out to my being of all my black dots could have been.
By Elizabeth Kerr3 years ago in Families
Be MORE
When I was 6 I had dreams to be a doctor. I would gather stuffed animals on my bed and give them checkups. At 13 I was utterly obsessed with medical terminology; it was a new language to me. At 17 I was enrolled in advanced medical courses that would further fuel my love of the medical field. When life happened at 20, I stepped away from my dreams and tried to fit a mold I would never properly fit within. At 24 I stood on the steps of a community college (a far cry from my dreams of pre-med) and I started again with a child on my hip. At 25 I was derailed with the birth of my second child and was angry with myself for my inability to do it all on my own. At 26 I put my head down and refused to look up until it was done, medical terminology became my worst enemy as it sucked my nights away and medical jargon filled my every passing moment. At 27 I am a first-generation student with a degree and two children. I learned more about myself in the last 3 years than I had known my entire life.
By Elizabeth Kerr3 years ago in Motivation
Guilty
The night is over, the sun isn’t awake yet. But you are. You in your over-worn pajamas that somehow bring comfort though the threadbare material holds little warmth to your stretched out over-worn body. You can feel the cold bite of the winter morning both in your toes as you touch the wooden floor boards and in your bones as they creak from overuse. You step into your over-used slippers and shuffle silently into the other room. Careful to remain silent as you pour a cup of yesterday’s coffee and warm it in the microwave. You read the ramblings online of other fellow “night owls” just as the sun begins its crawl upward from the horizon. The sky is a murky lavender that scratches at your inner demons. The house is still silent as you sit clothed in darkness. As the sun pushes away the night’s leftover darkness you file your insecurities away alphabetically: Analytical asshole, Bitch, Cynical, Depressed, Enough? You file and file, tuck and tuck, push and push. Until the dusty library in the corner of your worn-out soul looks as tidy as you try to feel. The librarian is a black silhouette against the scarred walls, he chuckles and holds out a forgotten file. Guilt. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. A hard swallow as you take your day’s assignment and tuck it under a battered arm.
By Elizabeth Kerr3 years ago in Families