I Want To Be A Writer When I Grow Up

So, I thought I would start a blog to display some of my personal writings. I would love feed back on any or all of it! I welcome constructive criticism, or words of encouragement!

Saturday, August 14, 2010


Here is a prompt I wrote a story about once. The story isn't finished, but I thought it was kinda fun: You and your spouse welcome a beautiful baby into your lives and, after going round and round on names, you choose one that's very unusual. Write a scene where you announce the name to your family. Include their reaction and your explanation for choosing such an odd name.

Most names have been ruined for me. I am a teacher. And I have taught for 10 years. I have seen many unusual names like KeVaughn, Unique, and even, Marajuana. Finding a name that hasn’t been ruined for me has become somewhat of a challenge, but here’s my story:
It was a beautiful Sabbath day, and I was sitting uncomfortably in the wooden pews at church. The hard back benches were agonizing at the best of times, but at 9 months pregnant they seemed almost insufferable. Focusing on the speaker seemed impossible, as I wiggled trying to find a comfortable position.
My youngest daughter leaned her head against my round abdomen. The baby inside kicked at her sister, and Katia stifled a silent giggle. My husband shot us a warning glance to be reverent. I put my arm around my sweet baby girl, who was no longer a baby. “When did she turn 9?” I thought.
Kiara, my 10 year old daughter, was resting her head on her father’s shoulder. She had stayed up late the night before and was fighting to stay awake during the sacrament meeting. I was content with my small family of 4. Scott was a fabulous father to our two beautiful daughters. I loved having children old enough to talk too, sing with and share adventures with. I also questioned my sanity as to having children at my age. Was I crazy?
Abruptly, the routine birth pains began. I silently began timing the contractions. “One Thousand One, One Thousand Two, One Thousand Three…” I had already gone into false labor twice before. I was prepared this time to count and wait it out. But then another cramp began and I knew the pain was too close together.
“It’s time” I whispered in my husband’s ear, while the speaker droned on about the plan of salvation.
“Are you sure?” Scott asked quietly, shooting me a nervous glance.
“Of course, I’m sure!” I snapped, a bit irritated at his lack of faith in my diagnosis. I clumsily plodded out toward the parking lot leaving my husband to find a friend to take our children for the rest of the day!
I continued counting my labor pains as I waited impatiently for Scott to show up. “The Bishop’s wife has our daughters,” he explained as he got behind the wheel to the Hyundai, which would be too small for our family of 5 in a few short hours. We had purchased the car to save gas a year ago when we believed we were done having children. Surprise!
Although the hospital was only 6.3 miles away, it seemed to take us an hour to get there. We hit every red light, and got behind every aging person going 25 miles under the speed limit. Didn’t they know I was about to have a baby? I wanted to scream at all the drivers on the road, including my husband, that I was in agony and frightened of the birthing process.
Although I had given birth twice before, I had completely forgotten the experience. I felt like a novice rugby player about to be pummeled by the opposing team. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t remember. I just wanted my doctor.
Arriving at the hospital, we walked (actually Scott walked, I hobbled) through the double doors. The receptionist noticed my condition (the huge bump in my belly cued her in) and waved us through to the third floor.
After a quick examination, from a nurse with REALLY frigid hands, I was admitted into a delivery room. The room was bathed in soft light. And the bed was as comfortable as a hospital bed could be. My husband pulled a stool up near my head so he could hold my hand and coach me. (I think it’s funny that men are coaches at something they will never experience personally.)
I was dilated to a five. The attendant only had to poke me three times before the IV stuck in the right place. By then, I didn’t care about the contractions, I was too focused on the needle. Scott kept trying to soothe my distress, by reminding me to breathe and count. (At least he remembered something from our Lamaze classes 11 years ago.) I had had natural child births with both Kiara and Katia. But this one, I was required to have an IV. By now, I was missing the warm showers that I had taken while in labor with Kiara.
Time is different when you are in the throes of childbirth. It seemed like I laid on the birthing bed for over 3 days, but Scott said it was only an hour.
“She’s crowning,” the doctor claimed proudly, as if he had done all the exertion!
A moment later, my husband exclaimed that she was “Beautiful!” The nurse practitioner, who aided in the delivery, quickly wrapped her in a white blanket and handed me the precious bundle. Tears came and I saw Scott wipe tears from his eyes also. She was beautiful! The Spirit of God was definitely present at this momentous moment. “I love you, little one.” I whispered as I handed the little girl to her father.
“What are we naming her?” Scott asked. We knew we had to use a name that started with the letter ‘K’, but we hadn’t found one we liked yet.
“I have no idea.” I said lamely.
“Did you see the name of the nurse practioner?” he quizzed.
“Well, it started with a K. It was different. What do you think?”
What did I think? I thought I was tired. I thought I wanted to go to sleep and wake up skinny. I thought I wanted some chocolate. But instead I inquired of my husband the nurse’s name.
“Karabasque,” he said simply.
I looked at how lovingly my husband held our newborn daughter. I smiled, “O.K., her name is Karabasque. I hope our family likes it.”
“They will love Karabasque!” Scott confidently announced. But will they love the name? I silently wondered.
“You’re kidding! Right?” Mom exclaimed when she heard the name.

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