The Handmaid's Tale - Original Content

Exploring Point of View in The Handmaid's Tale: Birth Day

"Push, push, push," they all chant, crowded around me, making it look like a cheesy witch ritual you would see in a bad Halloween movie. Of course all movies like that are probably burned and thrown out in a ditch pressed up against radioactive waste and dog excrement. Or maybe they are in a highly locked government storage room along with makeup, books, newspapers and other illegal items that are held captive for the sole purpose of becoming a memoir of past times. Perhaps.

"Relax. Pant. Push, push, push," they repeat, but the pain is unbearable. My breathing is faster than a runner's after closely winning tbe Iron Man triathlon. And my heart is about to jump off my body like a 6 year old who just learned to ride a bike. It all hurts too much. It feels as if every one of my cells was taken apart and put back together. A weird feeling I would guess, but definitely agonizing. I've discovered muscles and areas in my body that I didn't know could hurt so much and tested their competence.

But it's all worth it. All of it. Every one of my screams, contractions and howls of pain is worth it. Because I was finally able to create the gift of life. I've created an entire new organism with its own little personality, eyes, hair and nose. Everything is new and tiny and beautiful.

Life often gives you lemons and an expectation, but it always comes back to take your lemonade. My mind wanders off to the impending doom that will transcend after my physical pain leaves. But I stop before it can get too far.

It's not the time for that. I need to focus and help my little girl. Her little girl.

I know she is almost out, yet I am so tired. I want to sleep. But I know it's impossible. So I push harder for her and I hear a sigh surround me.

Oh God.

She's finally out and taken for inspection.

How is she? Is she okay? Is she healthy? Is she alive?

I want to scream all of this, but my mouth doesn't cooperate. I am fatigued. I want to sleep for days and not be interrupted once. But my excitement is greater.

My eyes look for her around the room and end up finding her cradled in the arms of the woman in blue. Surrounded actually, by an entire horde of more chattering and giggly housewives. I know the handmaids are trying to stand in the way and save me the pain, but its futile. The bullet has already been shot and has penetrated straight into my constricted chest. The warm, thick and red blood spreads from the newly made hole and drips unto the floor, mixing with the evidence of my creation. It's one and the same.

The bullet would probably never be able to be extracted. The heart is a dangerous place. Not many can operate there. One wrong move and you are dead. Therefore, the bullet must stay. It is now deeply ingrained inside of my being and will be a part of me for the rest of eternity. A gunpowder filled heart. I must deal with it however I can because too much fight could also kill me. It was never asked of me, just expected. Even if I wanted very much to get rid of it, it would never go away. The only way is death.

Isn't it curious that the thing that threatens me into compliance is also my only salvation? Death is termination. Death is peace.

It's not fair.

I thought finally becoming pregnant would be the answer, but seeing her against a stranger's bosom and knowing she'll never be a stranger to her hurts too much. Life will never be fair.

Tears escape my lids and sobs wrack my body. It's hopeless, yet my reaction is predictable. What else can I do? I have done my task, but they have taken more of me with them.

I thought fertility was the key.

I thought I'd be saved if I followed instructions.

I've been good. I've done what others have asked and what's expected of me.

Then why does it hurt so much?

Life often gives you lemons and an expectation, but it always comes back to take your lemonade.

Life is evil. Life is unfair. Life is not kind. It only gives if there is receiving in the future. Unfortunately I was given a beautiful gift.