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...'bout that life.

@boutthatlife / boutthatlife.tumblr.com

lover of all things random: tacos, handbags, jeopardy, travel, baking, thrifting, and DIY.
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Sixteen.

CW: preterm labor, miscarriage

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Today, Chunk received a care package in the mail from his grandma, my mama. Noise-canceling ear muffs, clothes, and books. One book, in particular, I read immediately. The book “You’re Here for a Reason,” brought me to tears. Every year, around this time, my emotions are all over the place. It never makes sense or registers, until it does.

Sixteen years ago, tomorrow, I gave birth to my first child, 21.5 weeks early. Sixteen years ago, I lay in a hospital bed, awaiting the arrival of a baby I knew wouldn’t make it. “The baby won’t cry,” the nurse told me. Okay. She explained how she wouldn’t live long after delivery.

Sixteen years ago, after an unsuccessful cerclage and being in the hospital for four days, I was awakened by the sound of nurses and my doctor scurrying around my room, bright lights shining, stirrups in place. It was time. My mom on my left, my then boyfriend on my right. I didn’t know it at the time, but another friend sleeping on the floor.

“Push.”

I only remember a few things: grabbing my mom’s hand, pushing, and a kick as my baby made its way out. Time stood still. Silence.

What did I have?

“A girl.”

I don’t know if it was the same nurse but someone asked if I wanted to see her.

“It’ll be good for you.”

Okay.

They brought me my baby. I wept. My mom wept. Her dad stared. A nun came and talked to me. And then she was gone.

“How do you want to dispose of the fetus?” I’ll never forget those words as long as I live. What? She ran down a few options. I opted for cremation. I filled out some paperwork and named my daughter. Jaida Madison was born March 11, 2002, around 1:13am. Eventually sleep found me. Later that day I was discharged and returned to my apartment. Empty, literally and figuratively.

For sixteen years I have thought about those events, in some way, every single day. I think about her every single day.

For sixteen years I wondered if I’d ever get another chance at motherhood. If my body would hold up its end of the deal. Last year, I got my chance. A chance that didn’t come without its worries. What if I can’t make it to term. What if it’s 2002 all over again. Being positive at a time like that is easier said than done, let me tell you.

“I want you to see the high-risk doctor just as a precaution,” my OB said.

Here we go, I thought. But, my visit turned out to be okay. “I want to see you back next month.” Why, I thought. She’s said herself that me and baby were good. But, I did as I was told. I continued to see my regular OB and the high-risk doctor. Then, it happened. A routine ultrasound, filled with lots of baby highlights turned into silence from the tech. Something was wrong. Breathe. “Okay, you can get dressed, Dr. C will be in soon.”

Dr. C came in and we exchanged pleasantries. My baby looked good. We’d found out the month prior that it was a boy. He was right on schedule. But, I was funneling (dilating) and my doctor wanted to do a cerclage sooner than later, just as a precaution. I immediately burst into tears. I’d been here before. The dilation. The not-quite-at-the-halfway-mark-ness. This wasn’t new and 20-year old me was in that room, sobbing.

“Can I hold your hand,” the nurse asked. Please. Because here I was, alone in a doctor’s office, being told that I needed to check into the hospital that afternoon. My boyfriend across the pond, my mama seven hours away. Just me. Alone. Again. After getting myself together, I drove home, packed a bag, headed to the hospital and checked myself in. Once I was settled, I texted my sisters where I was, let them know I didn’t feel like talking and told them to tell my parents. I immediately got a text back that my mom would be there the next day. “Do you want me to come home,” my boyfriend asked. No. I was going to be fine. I knew it.

And I was. My cerclage was a success. My weekly check-ups yielded great progress. My baby overstayed his welcome and this time, no one had to prepare me for the worst. Time stood still as I waited for the doctor to get him out. “Oh, he’s a big boy.” Then I heard it. The sweetest cry ever. I wept. I’d waited sixteen years to hear that cry.

And that’s why tomorrow will be different from all the other years. Because tomorrow, Lord willing, I will wake up to my beautiful, bright-eyed baby boy who, for the last fifteen weeks, has brought me the greatest joy. This time, I won’t have to wonder if my chance will come.

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reblogged

“I didn’t get accepted into any of the universities that I wanted, and I ended up going to a lesser quality school. I hated being there. On the first day, I thought about buying a plane ticket and going home. I felt like I had nothing in common with the people around me. I felt like they belonged and I didn’t. My plan was just to survive– get through six lectures a day, keep to myself, and get back to my dorm room as soon as possible. I didn’t even talk to my own roommate. I’m ashamed of it now. I was so rude and self-centered, and it ended up making me lonely and miserable. I felt depressed. I was barely sleeping. Then one night I overheard my roommate talking on the phone with her mother. And I could tell she was having family problems. After she hung up, we stayed up all night talking. I told her that I was having a hard time too. She became my best friend after that night. We’d have dinner together. Whenever I left the room, she’d ask me where I was going. It felt so good to have someone worry about me. It’s been an important six months for me. I’ve realized how much I need other people. By not valuing the people around me, I was only hurting myself.” (Mumbai, India)

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LMFAO THE JOB INTERVIEW WAS A SCAM PLS KILL ME

I been getting a lot of job interviews and find out they were a scam or basically a pyramid scheme use Glassdoor to look up companies before you interview for them

^^^^ Glassdoor is clutch RB to help someone else out

It really is I have cancelled so many interviews after going on Glassdoor and reading how trash a company is or it being just a straight up scam

Just an add on: if anyone tells you to do an interview over google hangout and they only text you the interview questions instead of view chat… RUN ISSA SCAM! If you can’t find a company website at all (in this day and age)… RUN ISSA SCAM! If you can’t find a location of a office building of the company. If they have to ask for your information a ton of times, and if they send you a check super fast and you know you didn’t do anything to get you paid yet… RUNNNNN. Be careful on your new job hurt! There are people out there willing to take advantage of you knowing you are trying to find work, they will have a special VIP place in HELL to FUCKING BURN! But still be careful!

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odinsblog

Kinda seems like a one sided conversation, doesn’t it? I’m tired of “conversations on race” whenever another innocent, unarmed black person is executed by the police. They’re as perfunctory as they are repetitive.

We need justice, not another hollow conversation that doesn’t change anything and does nothing to prevent the next shooting.

(original image credit: Clay Bennett)

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This is important.

It’s not a “loophole” it’s explicit within the text of the amendment

“Loophole” lmfao like it’s a fucking accident, like it wasn’t purposefully structured to reclaim and expand a source of free labor

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stele3

We never outlawed slavery in America. We simply transferred ownership of slaves from individual landowners to the government and large corporations.

Other fun facts about prison labor corporations:

-Federal and state-run prisons usually pay their slaves minimum wage; some states, however, like Colorado, pay $2/hour.

-Private prisons pay $.17-.50/hour. The highest paying private prison is in Tennessee, which pays $.50/hour for “highly-skilled labor.”

-You think that hasn’t affected wages in the US? You think that hasn’t removed manufacturing jobs from the economy?

-Companies that contract with private prisons for their slave labor include: IBM, Boeing, Motorola, Microsoft, AT&T, Wireless, Texas Instrument, Dell, Compaq, Honeywell, Hewlett-Packard, Nortel, Lucent Technologies, 3Com, Intel, Northern Telecom, TWA, Nordstrom’s, Revlon, Macy’s, Pierre Cardin, Target Stores. Many, many products that say “Made in USA” were made in prison.

-Private prisons often have quotas with the states, wherein the states contractually guarantee that they will provide a certain number of prisoners to fill the beds of a private prison, and if they don’t then they owe the private prison millions of dollars. I’m not making this up. It happened in Colorado after they legalized weed.

-States have a financial incentive to lock up their citizens.

-All of the above corporations have a financial incentive to see citizens get locked up.

-This is why Jeff Sessions is going after weed. The prison industrial complex needs slaves.

-To the shock of absolutely no one, private prisons have even more disparate racial demographics than federal/state prisons.

-Where do you think they send undocumented immigrants who have been rounded up? That’s right, private prisons. That’s why so many of them are in the South. So they take immigrants who are earning some kind of comparable wage and paying income tax to the government, and put them in prison where the wages are absurdly depressed and the prison pays virtually nothing in taxes.

-Oh yeah: private prisons pay virtually nothing in taxes. Because they technically manage real estate (prison as housing), they get all sorts of tax breaks and subsidies.

Tl;dr the prison industrial complex removes jobs from the economy, depresses wages, cheats the tax system, and ENSLAVES PEOPLE, usually people of color.

Sources:

Pretty much just watch the 13th

And read The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander!

The subversive meaning behind “job creation”.

don’t forget the origins of the police [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

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iu

*wants to read* *doesnt read*

*wants to draw* *doesnt draw*

*wants to study a language* *doesnt study the language*

*wants to watch new movies* *doesnt watch new movies*

*wants to do stuff i like and enjoy* *doesnt*

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momqueer

this is called depression

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THIS IS INCREDIBLE #SupportBlackArtists #BlackArtMatters #Representation

“fuck it, I’ll do it.” -Black women

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