It’s how the orange feels when it’s being pressed against the juicer.
I am a small person, with a thin skin, and I don’t like to be pressed.
But is there any other way to make orange juice besides squeezing the orange?
I avoid the hospital, for various reasons. The gowns, the smells, the medication, the monitors, the memories. But, I have stayed there twice, always on purpose. It’s surreal to lay myself down, paralyzed at the waist, and volunteer myself for major surgery from an Almost Stranger who holds a Degree and a scalpel.
I lay there voluntarily, nervous and numb, drugged and emotional, and from my broken skin a baby rises up and I say it is good. I feel crazy for saying it, but I say it every time.
It is good.
Sometimes the things we hate are the things we return to, because we must, because it is worth it. The things which are hard, painful, frightening…they are often the things which give us the most.
It’s amazing what you get when you let life squeeze you.
Facing down the barrel of my third c-section, and frankly not looking forward to the whole process, but fervently looking forward to the end result.
Better than orange juice baby!
I think we are all facing things we don’t particularly enjoy in our life. Let’s hold hands and encourage each other. Let’s look forward to the fruits of our labor. Heheheh.