The 's Double Doors Stand Open

I let my eyes wander out to the empty field outside, thinking of the future and the past. I part another chapter of my life to be a mother. Perhaps I am giving up my independence like sacrifices to please an angry god, or rather goddess. The answers are not all there, but at least one part of my world is established, a small but important comfort. I look towards the child one last time as if she were a mirage in a hot desert. She no longer cries in her father’s arms, voice and energy drained from its earlier tantrums into existence.

Staring down at the baby; my baby in his little plastic box, I was overcome by a fear I had never felt before. I would later find out that his box was called and isolate, a special bed for premature babies. His eyes were covered with gauze, he had a tube in his nose that was assisting his breathing, and he was so small. Awestruck, I watched his slight movements. His mouth moved as if he was searching for something. His tiny hands grasped for something to hold on to. I slowly reached my finger to his hand and he clutched it with all of his little might. His grasp sent shock waves of love through my body that I had never experienced in my life. I was a mother.

Three and a half year ago, the car crash inflicted by the influence of alcohol left the driver, Elle White mentally disturbed. The author explains, Elle White suffers nightmares about the incident. She starts to remember memories of her and Karen, when she confesses, “I still have nightmares about the accident. I wake up in the middle of the night screaming about ambulance sirens and screams” (Hollander 1). She is unable to sleep as the accident haunts her. This clearly shows she is mentally stressed as she is unable to forget the traumatic accident. Similarly, she encounters flashbacks of the night of the accident. For instance, “I tilt back in my chair and sob into my hands as it all comes flooding back” (Hollander 2). Her flashbacks do not allow her to move on from the incident taking a toll on her brain. In regards to all these facts, she is dealing with depression as the vivid images enter her mind once again troubling her. Furthermore, she hallucinates about Karen, who is not present. Elle White tries to forget about Karen, however she describes, “Then, suddenly I can hear her soft, caring voice in my ear. “You can remember” she whispers, and there is so much ferocity in her tone I back away” (Hollander 2). This visual representation can be viewed as a reminder of her regret, to listen to Karen’s plead to drive drunk that resulted in losing Karen. This leaves Elle White to be guilty for that accident, deteriorating her mental stability. Therefore, the author adopts the sensitivity of Elle White’s mental condition after living through the

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

“One, Two, THREE!” Lennie and I sprint toward the bus. I don’t think I have ever seen Lennie run so fast. Just as I think we have made it to safety, a gunshot goes off. Right in front of the old bus, I fall to my knees as my vision becomes blurry. Even through all of the noise and commotion, all I can hear is my ears ringing. Most people would be scared or angry that they are dying, but I was happy because Lennie was safe. Surprisingly, the bus driver took Lennie and drove off. The bus before had just seemed like a bus, but now it was like a chariot, because it carried the only thing important to me in it. As the sight of the bus became vague, my eyes slowly shut and my smile slowly

There had been enough time for something to change but almost everything was the exact same. Again Rye found herself travelling on a bus to go search for something, now knowing her brother is in fact dead she wasn 't exactly sure if what she was searching for was real. The only difference was that she now had the weight of two pre-teens. She felt it best for them to be as cautious as she had been while travelling around a decade ago. Each child had their own piece to communicate what their name was without using their words, it’s safer. Sitting on these benches Rye looked at them, the girl was the spitting image of her dead mother long curly dirty blond hair, a button nose, freckles, green eyes, and the perfect height for her age. Her was brother only slightly taller, with a darker skinned tone, and features almost exactly the opposite of his sister. The only feature similar was their hair texture. Rye would never admit this to anyone but there were times like the present that she regrets the events leading up to this very moment. The deja vu of running away except this time with hope.

A tear rolls down her pale face, her green eyes still staring as the car drives away, and when the volunteer of the week hurries the children along and into the house. When the lady asks her to come inside, Emma wipes of her tears before heading back inside, her arms crossed around her body to shield her from the insults the boys give, and the teasing from the girls.

Feelings of desperation and worry flourished my body as I watched my mother with tubes in her mouth getting rushed to the operating room. “Is mommy going to make it out alive?”. “Will I become an orphan?”. These are the exact thoughts that were running through my mind. In life one minute you could be decorating your Christmas tree and the other you're sitting in an uncomfortable chair of the

It wasn’t a typical birth. I wasn’t a typical child. And it wasn’t a typical experience. Every day felt like an endless list of obstacles waiting to pounce on the life that I just wished was normal. From the doctors performing an emergency C-section to retrieve me to being diagnosed as asthmatic, from having eating difficulties to constantly being told I was underweight, I felt like a burden to everyone around me. If I wasn’t at the doctor’s office, waiting for the doctor to repeat over and over again on how I was under the growth charts, then I was probably puking in some car on the way home. If I wasn’t inhaling medicinal mists from a nebulizer every night to pacify my wheezing, I was most likely at the pharmacy, getting my new batch of a

I sat in the common area as the other patients colored and played cards. What they were doing didn’t really matter to me, I just wanted to be alone. I’d always feel like I was drowning, so it came to me as a surprise to me when the nurses told me that if I were breathing, I was winning. At night I’d lay on the blue plastic mattress and miss my room and everything it stood for. The blue lights that are strung along my bed, illuminate my nights. The pictures of the one I love line my walls, they are the barrier that protects me from the rest of the world. The blue plastic mattress draped in thin white sheets stood for the cold empty feeling I couldn’t get rid of. My nights were full of my thoughts bombarding my

Supporting a child is incredibly difficult without a proper environment and sufficient necessary resources. Within the dystopia created, the particular setting raises more than just the ordinarily present issues that come with the idea of a newborn. Of the most fundamental issues, comes the lack of sufficient medical care that is necessary to not only aid in the birth, but also in the

At an early age, we are taught the importance of getting an education and how obtaining a degree open doors. As years pass the value of education increases, what before required a high school diploma now requires two to four years of college. Jobs become more and more demanding.

External doors in Standish play an important role in the security of your home. You will need to be sure that your external is functioning properly and is strong enough to serve as security to protect you and your family and keep everyone in the house safe. External doors should also be strong, not only for security, but to can endure all kinds of weather. They are constantly exposed to rain, wind, and sunlight.

I fainted directly next to the smelly outer walls of the gigantic box. The second I woke up, I felt like I couldn’t breath; and like there was no such thing as oxygen on earth anymore. “The smell, I can’t stay here any longer”, I was thinking, “How could humanity litter so much?” “And what could that smell be?” I stopped thinking, ready to get my trash chore over with.

I will never forget the moment my labor began, the moment that marked that step in my journey into motherhood. I can remember everything about it so clearly. My mom, fiancé, and I woke up early Friday morning to make our way to Western Missouri Medical Center. I stood in front of the mirror looking at my belly knowing it would be my last time standing in that bathroom with my baby inside of me still. It was a bittersweet moment that I cherished as long as I possibly could. I was set to be induced that morning and very excited, yet a little bit nervous. I had no idea what to expect. I’d been waiting a very long 37 weeks to finally meet this precious human that had been growing inside me. I had ideas of what he might look like, and what the experience might be like, however nothing could have prepared me for what was in store over the next few days.