Chapter 7

So, being squeezed through a small hole- not fun! I couldn't see anything around me once out and I was being rubbed much harder than if I would if I could have cleaned and dried myself.

I was also very tired and scared! I admit that I gave in to the tears forming in my eyes and bawled. When they laid me in the arms of someone not walking around, I felt much safer.

When I heard the heartbeat of the person holding me to their chest, I instantly felt even better.

I recognized that heartbeat. It had the same rhythm as the drumming that I had heard for months. This was my mom and I knew I was safe.

I heard multiple voices coming from various distances to me. A child's voice got closer to me and I felt large hands on my face and head as well as what I assumed were kisses where the hands had been, judging from the soft smacking sounds.

Just as I was about to cry the child's voice spoke again and I realized that I recognized that voice. It was one I had listened to and looked forward to hearing each day while I was still in my mother's womb.

I really wished I could understand the words the little boy was speaking. He struck me as a kind person since he spent so much time talking to me. He could have just needed someone to talk to, I suppose, but I doubted that that was the reason.

I tried to respond, but my tongue felt weird in my mouth. It wouldn't move like I wanted it to and just sounded like I was making noise without any use of a tongue. I tried a couple of times, but gave up when the people around me were laughing and cooing at me instead of realizing that I was trying to communicate.

I gave up and decided to nap instead.

The next several weeks were repetitive cycles of eating, sleeping, bathing, and getting changed. I was attempting to gain control over my body which obeyed me as well as my tongue; in other words, not well at all! I hated the feel of a wet or messy diaper! Yuck!

It truly felt like I was in another body and my mental commands didn't quite make it to my body. Each day was a constant struggle to make my body obey the commands of my mind.

I noticed that as I grew a little older, I was gradually being left alone for longer periods of time. The past me was thrilled. When I became blind at 6 years old, I felt smothered and was constantly being told what I couldn't do. Admittedly there were probably some things I should not have tried (i.e. driving a car), but I thought that if they truly loved me, they would work to help me have as normal life as possible and let me do as much for myself as I could.

A fear of a repeat of overprotective parents made me question if I could get by well enough that they wouldn't find out I'm blind. Could I pull it off? Should I try? Would I ruin what I seemed to have here? Many questions went through my head as I lay in my crib alone.