Branches

At my work,

in my research,

in my conversations with people I have learned of many women who drank, smoked, snorted, injected while pregnant,

and still birthed children who came out walking, talking, comprehending, relating

perfectly fine.

This used to be a tough pill for me to swallow.

I didn't touch wine, cigarettes, cocaine or heroine, while pregnant. 

I've never touched cocaine or heroine in my life.

How could they?

Why did I?

This journey, my son and I's journey, has been a spiritual journey.

One that has forced me to dig deep.

To look into the "whys" of this universe.

I think often.

I walk often.

To look at the past.

I stare at and pass a lot of gorgeous trees when I takes these walks.

Tree after tree, flashbacks often flood my consciousness.

2010: Lily Blue Ochoa, my daughter, my blue bird was born.

2011: eight months before I became pregnant with Dublin, I wrote and directed a theatre about an autistic boy who used magic to communicate. The performers sang Paul McCartney's Blackbird to accompany the performer playing this boy while performing a magic trick.

2012: Dublin Black Ochoa, my black bird was born. 

I wrote him into my life.

AND THEN...

like a tree, I grew a branch for him.

I keep growing more branches for him. 

I am his tree.

I can feel how strong my roots have become.

My feet more grounded than they ever have been.

I stand for him.

I grow for him.

Some trees have branches that are coated in wine, smell like smoke,

are laced with cocaine, or are poisoned with heroine and these very same trees have healthy and strong branches too.

All of us mothers have strong branches.

We just all have very unique birds sitting upon them, which we wrote into our lives in one way or another.....and if we can, we continue to stand and grow for in one way or another.