The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Kind of chatty today, but at least the bleeding's done.

Yesterday, I actually tried to be playful with my daughter. I am usually the one who admonishes happy revellers to calm down before someone gets hurt, so this was new. My aim was to ensure my wee one's needs for tomfoolery were met, since her father had gone to the store and had abandoned his post as 'fun parent', and I was very focused on making sure that she did not get hurt in the process. After a few minutes of giggly tousling, I felt her tiny finger shoot up my left nostril like a dagger, followed by the sickening sensation of warmth and wet along the edges of the nostril, before the slippery snake slither sensation worked its way toward my top lip. Blood: bright red, hot copper, beautiful and alarming.

I've only had one nose bleed in my entire life and it was at least twenty years ago. I don't remember much about it, other than it was allergy season for me, and I was irritated by it because I was on my way to a concert. This time I was shocked, because I had no idea my nose was so delicate that a tiny finger could bring about such carnage. My stomach turned slightly because I've never been that fond of biology and I ran to the bathroom while the wee one sat stunned on the couch. I covered my face in toilet paper and sat down gently on the couch, while she went off in search of her doctor's kit. The fact that she took my pulse and checked my reflexes was cute, but her lack of concern over the sight of her mother's blood was confusing.

I wish I wasn't so squeamish about the sight of it. The colour isn't exactly displeasing, I mean, it's what you want a rose to look like, or the lips of a lover, but the sight of it, the smell of it makes me weak and nauseous. I'm that person who hides her eyes when a medical show comes on. I am the woman who cringes at the sight of an uncooked steak. I don't like the meat of us, the fact that we are all just muscle, bone and fluid. It makes me feel strange, creating an uncomfortable connection between myself and the rump roast at the butcher's. The idea of an ethereal soul inside of this feels clean and untarnished, but the reality of the meat of us sends shivers up my spine. It's different when there is a love connection, sure, but that goes along with the insanity of affection that I wrote about before. I can overlook the gritty humanity of the people I love. I can take their smells, their sounds better than I can those of a stranger. I am often offended by the unfamiliar, unclean scent of a person I find physically repulsive, but I suppose the two things go hand in hand. Thankfully, M. usually smells okay, but there have been moments when his humanity nudged me to the other side of the bed.

I still remember R's smell, so raw and dirty at times that I blame it partially for our eventually parting. He got a lot of nosebleeds, too, usually at the worst of times.There was one incident in particular, when we were visiting my grandparent's place by the river. No one was around, so we got it into our heads to take ourselves to the bedroom (I know, many shades of wrong, but again, young love is stupid). He began to work his tongue down toward the nether region, and I laid back enjoying all of the sensations this brought, until I heard him make a noise which suggested concern. When I looked down, his head popped up and his face was covered in blood. I screamed, he growled, and when we figured out it was him and not me, we turned our attention to the blood all over my grandparent's bed. Not exactly a shining moment in my life, and I will always remember the extreme panic of it. Luckily, R. was able to clean everything up without anyone being the wiser, and we did laugh about it after that, but I was never able to get that image out of my mind and likely never will. I understood that he could not control the problem (it always happened in dry heat), but it isn't a sexy look, the sight of your partner sitting with toilet paper impacted in their nostril, especially when it brings back the fear you had when you thought your vagina exploded.

What I find amazing is that all of your weird phobias about bodily functions seem to disappear with regard to your child. They can do just about anything and you're shielded from the repulsiveness of it. Kitty Kat has had a cut finger from a botched nail trimming that left drops of blood all over the floor when she was crawling and I wasn't sickened by the sight of it at all. I was upset that she was bleeding, but it didn't occur to me to panic. I have heard about this phenomenon of motherhood before, where the mother somehow becomes steel against the things which would have offended her before the arrival of her child, and I didn't believe it until I experienced it. The fact that I can have discussions about her bowel movements with her without gagging is a testament to this. I am certain that this would not work with anyone else.

This is where a nosebleed takes me. Interpret that as you will.