Writing Prompt 40: Woman and Child
Reflection
Here in Canada, September 30th is now formally recognised as the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. As this date fell on a Saturday this year, many organisations have chosen to observe today as the day of reflection.
Lying here in my covid bed (it got me in the end), many thoughts have wandered through my head about how to respond to this day respectfully. In the article Beyond wearing orange: How to meaningfully mark National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Global News spoke to five indigenous people for their thoughts. The common thread running through all the interviews is education. Talking to your friends, reading books, blogs, articles by indigenous people, watching films and interviews that highlight their experience.
This is not easy work and many will simply not try for all manner of reasons. For what it’s worth, my thoughts are simple. If we can acknowledge and learn about the traumatic experiences of our fellow humans, then there is a chance that history does not repeat itself. This may seem a naive point of view. I’m okay with that.
So. As always, here’s this week’s photograph of a woman and a child from a postcard I have . Write from wherever the image takes you.
For some further reading: 25 Books by Indigenous Authors of Canada
Alison looked down at her baby, all wrapped up in the swaddling cloth a friend had given her.
She read the instructions once more, watched three YouTube videos and took a deep breath.
"Wrap around your waist, cross over your shoulders, and remember to cradle your baby," she muttered as she struggled with fabric, small arms, legs and a head.
"Baby's head must be supported at all times," said the midwife briskly on her visit, a day after Rose’s birth. "And be careful of the soft spot."
"Is that her brain right there?" Alison felt this was a reasonable question.
The midwife inflated the blood pressure cuff on Alison's arm and didn't respond.
This is going nowhere.
Alison untied the knot and started again, all the while holding onto Rose as best she could.
"Okay. Let's do this." Alison shifted Rose onto one hip. "Over the shoulders first...hold baby while wrapping the ties around your waist and hips. Voila." Alison looked down at the tiny head of Rose wrapped in a colourful fabric that Alson would never have chosen herself.
"It's great," said Caroline, yesterday. "You can do all your chores while keeping baby close."
Alison gingerly released her precious cargo. The baby dropped slightly but went no further. She placed a hand under her - just in case.
"Right, Rose. I think you’re safe. Let’s get the washing out."
Alison bent forward with some difficulty and tugged open the washing machine door. She pulled and dragged the tangle of clothing out into the basket. She looked down. A quick check. A tiny hand movement. Tiny fingers resting against her chest. Almost soundless breathing. Alison stopped for a moment, watching. Rose yawned a tiny yawn, her eyes opened for a second before closing again.
"You sleep when baby sleeps," the midwife had said.
"Fat chance," said Alison out loud while pushing the washing basket across the kitchen floor with her foot.
Story first posted in February 2019 // Photograph from a postcard: Lakota woman & child. The Lakota are matrilineal and children belong to the mother’s clan. Traditionally women controlled the food resources and movable property. Photo circa 1910. nativenorthwest.com
