Wednesday, June 16, 2010 10:27 AM
Good night Nene Cecil. Thank you for everything. I have two meetings tomorrow, a criminal case in the afternoon, and a deadline for the Supreme Court. Good night.
Happy Birthday, Son and Inday Leah
From the "Shed A Tear" collection.
My mind is agitated and my heart is healing and then breaking and then healing and then breaking.
Today, nineteen years ago, I was hanging from a trapeze. The obstetrician and nurses were running out of options and before they took out the big gadgets and the last option of rushing me to the operating room, they let me hang from a trapeze, the way the Indians did long ago, so I can deliver my baby. It did not work. My obstetrician told my husband that our son's heart and brain waves were strong and healthy, so they were avoiding an emergency cesarean section. They will use some gadgets and do some bedside procedures and if they don't work, then they have to rush me to the operating room. I have been in labor for 17 hours. My epidural anesthesia has worn off hours ago and I finally prayed that I would not die for I would feel horrible leaving my husband with a newborn. I felt a huge sucking sensation. My obstetrician used the vacuum, the forceps and performed a fourth degree episiotomy that prevented me from sitting down for two months after delivery. My son was born. I was so exhausted I could not even lift my arms to touch him nor turn my head towards to kiss him. My husband said our son was so alert and just looking around. For nineteen years he has put me on the edge. He is the most loving, faithful, loyal and protective young man I know. When he was young, he did not want me to stand in the driveway in the evening because he was worried that people will drive by and hurt me. I listened to him so he would stop worrying. He makes me proud and happy.
Today, he shares his birthday with my sister Leah. True to her word and promise, my sister Leah celebrated Christmas with my sister Mercedes and then her birthday today. I could not call because I could not get an international line. I could not call her because she could not talk to me. She continues to struggle with cancer.
My heart is bursting with pain. Sometimes tears fall like a mountain cataract because I am so angry that the kindest, most altruistic, most intelligent, brilliant and smartest of my siblings has been deprived of her brilliant mind. I am so sad. Dammit. I am sorry for cursing, but my heart aches. My heart cannot contain my love for my sister. It is the same with my other sisters and brothers and my sisterfriend. It is the same for my husband and my children. So here I am. I am so happy that my son and all of us here have come a long way from the growing pains and yet my anguished mind and my breaking heart is blinding me with tears.
No amount of squiggling can relieve that sensation. I suppose I should be honored and grateful for I am awake and can write this... my sister cannot.
I really wish that love had real power...
P.S. When my son was a baby, I used to play Ella Fitzgerald's songbooks and I danced to this song while I carried my son and held his face next to mine.
P.S. When my son was a baby, I used to play Ella Fitzgerald's songbooks and I danced to this song while I carried my son and held his face next to mine.
