This Date In Personal History

2014-06-14T12:30:00.000-07:00

On this date June 14, 2000 I gave birth to an angel.

You see, back in October of 1999, I was dating a wonderful man. He and I had known each other since the age of 12 and I suspect I had been attracted to him ever since my senior year of high school. As life would have it, we traveled different paths in our early adulthood. His led him to college, marriage and a divorce. My path led me to a very brief stint in college, only to return home and a few years later...single parenthood.

Mind you, being a parent for me was not on my goals of life. I really never saw myself as a sweet person. In fact, I to a sick and twisted pride in my ability to strike fear in others. I was known for my technique to deliver a living nightmare. (Today I know this to be a coping mechanism. I suffered with mental health issues and one of them is PTSD. For me...acting out was a way to protect myself from danger.)

Well....even the worst person in the world needs love and I was no different. I met a man who professed undying love for me and I believed it. Like most young women, I could not differentiate between the profession of love and the desire for a MOTHER FIGURE. So, after sharing with him that I was pregnant...he seemed very happy. That was until he told his mother.... Well... I was left with a child and a clear understanding of where he stood on the matter.

The benefit of being me was that I was perfectly happy being a single parent. I guess this is in part do to the dysfunctional upbringing I survived. I also happened to adore my sweet, beautiful daughter.

Throughout the next seven years, Mr. Wonderful and I would have encounters. Each time was clear to me that I was very interested in him...he, was always dealing with something; a divorce, living out of state, an ailing grandparent. So, when we finally forged a romantic relationship, I was over the moon. I sincerely had everything I wanted...or so I thought.

As October began, I was working six days a week at the local Parent/Teacher supply store. My parents were preparing to renew their vows and my daughter was in third grade. While she'd met him, they had not been around each other very much. This was my choice as I felt it best that we build our relationship before they bond. That way if it fell apart, she wasn't overly attached. Well, leave it to my mother to mention to third party that she was expecting this man and I to announce our engagement. I am still not sure if this was said out of spite or expectation, but the person she mentioned this to just happened to be a spurned ex. With her TMZ-like news...she almost broke her neck to call him. He, in turned called me and verbally chewed me up for starting this mess. Uh....HELLO! I was at work at the time and I didn't start this mess. Of course, that was besides the point. He made it clear we needed to slow things down. So, as I was at work...I agreed and decided I would deal with this mess later.

The next day, I was off as this was the day of the rehearsal for the vow renewal. I kept my hair appointment, but had determined that I needed to talk to my mother about the mess SHE started. I also planned to not attend the ceremony....I was pissed and wanted nothing to do with her or her HAPPY DAY!

When I arrived at the church, I had all the decorations in my car. I completed my assignment of decorating the church and the parish hall. Then I went to find my parents. I ended up talking to my father. He asked me not abandon them tomorrow. He said he wanted me to do this...not for my mother, but for him. How could I say no to him? He confessed that he didn't want to do this, but it was what she wanted. So, if he could compromise his wishes, so could I.

I didn't get home until well after midnight that Friday. I still felt I needed to talk to Mr. Wonderful face to face. After a brief phone call, he agreed to come over. Now....I don't remember much about the conversation. What I do remember was waking up in my bed as the sun began peeking in....and turning over to see he was still there. All kinds of thoughts ran through my mind! What did we do????

All I knew at this point was I needed to sneak him out of my house before my daughter woke up. So, I woke him and told him to dress very quietly. I crept down the hall to make sure my little one was still knocked out. Winner! She had her foot planted on the wall....snoozing away. So, I shoved him out the door and showered.

As I arrived at the church, I tripped on the steps that led to the vestibule. I didn't fall, but as I regained my balance, I heard 'Malcolm' in my head. What did this name mean to me? Having no time to allow thoughts of folly distract me from my military duties, I continued on with my promise.

Once the ceremony ended, I immediately exited to the hall where I quickly changed clothes and began doing the dishes. Several guests came in to question why I didn't come out and take pictures. I explained that this dishes needed to be done and I was already dressed for the job. As the last few guests left, my father came in and thanked me for being there for him. I showed him all the food that was left and we set a plan to get it back to their house. I brought in my load of things and scooped my daughter in my car, heading for my own home.

The next week ticked way quickly. I attempted to negotiate my schedule with my employer, to no avail. I found that a previous employer was in need of a new secretary, so I inquired if I might apply. Well, my application was as easy as a phone call. I was hired the next day. I spend no time in transition and by the end of the week, I was proudly saying hello and goodbye to my employment status. I loved my new job.

I also noticed that for the past few days, I had been feeling like I had the flu. Exhausted, sick to my stomach...just yucky. So, I made an appointment with my doctor, who luckily was open on Saturday. After a quick exam, he agreed that I might benefit from some antibiotics. He also reminded me that it was nearly time for my birth control shot. So, as protocol, we did the usual pregnancy test. Meanwhile, we chatted about the changes in my life. At some point, the nurse stuck her head in. This is usually when she comes in and delivers the syringe. I hadn't looked at her, but took note of the doctor asking me what I would do if I were pregnant. I found this laughable, considering that I had been on birth control for years. Moments later, she brought a piece of paper into the doctor. He turned it face down and repeated his question. This time, I was clear. I would likely lose my mind. Then he shared with me the news I least wanted to hear.

I was stunned and needed time to process this. Pregnant????

I ran through my head all the reasons this was NOT a good idea. Then, I called Mr. Wonderful and said we needed to talk. Before I could explain anything, he asked me if I was pregnant. Rather than beat around the bush...I said yes. He said he was on his way. This conversation was rather brief. I said I didn't want this and he went into "fix it" mode. He told me he would contact Planned Parenthood and make an appointment. Then he said he would pay for everything. I didn't say anything...he had already said more than I could ever say.

Of course, I did what many women do. I called my good girlfriend to sound out my thoughts. After 20 minutes of my blathering, she asked me was I listening to myself. You see, I had gone from "I can't do this" to "in order to make this work, I need to...." . So, the next step was to tell the other party. I have never been so afraid in my life. He wasn't one of those people you can talk to about such things. He is a very decisive person and once he states what he wants to do...step out of his way because he is going to have it.

I tried several times to tell him of my new feelings about being pregnant. He, however, couldn't hear me over telling me that he'd made the appointment and would pick me up on Saturday. We could drop my daughter off at my parents and go from there. Of course, with those words, he abruptly ended the call. We didn't speak anymore that week. In the interim, I had to tell my new employer that I was pregnant. This went over better than I had expected, considering my employer....well, he was a priest of an Episcopal church and it doesn't look very good to have your unmarried secretary (the one with one child already) having a second baby out of wedlock. Add to this that the new baby will have a different father. My employer immediately processed my paperwork for my benefits and we set up a schedule that allowed me to get to the OB as needed. Then I confided in him the situation with the father. He was very understanding and told me that it was no one's business what my personal life was. Share what I wanted, but if there were questions, send them to him and he would send them to God.

Saturday came and we went off to the dreaded appointment. Beyond asking me if I was okay, we didn't speak. We sat as they called my number. I left him sitting in the lobby as I was taken in the back and given a urine pregnancy test. I was so early in my pregnancy that it said negative. So, I was given a vaginal exam. It confirmed what I already knew. I was then sent into an office to schedule the "procedure". I finally found my voice to say that it wouldn't be necessary. Shocked, the lady behind the desk said I was probably just scared and confused. I explained that for the first time since I learned I was pregnant I was completely clear in my thoughts and I thanked her, paid for the test and walked out. Now...to tell HIM!

As we left, he asked me again, if I was okay. I nodded, but couldn't talk. He offered to take me to pickup my daughter, but I said I just wanted to get home. He drove and talked, but I wasn't listening. I just give a general nod or sound of agreement here and there.

When we walked in my back door, I told him I needed to say something and I needed him to listen. Once I was done talking he could talk or leave. I explained to him that I was having this baby. I hoped he would be happy, but could accept that he may never want anything to do with either one of us. I wasn't going to ask him for anything and had no expectations of anything from him. All I knew is that I loved this baby and all that would be and he could do as he liked. He puffed up and let me have it....verbally. I cut him off and said I didn't need this and he needed to leave, which he did.

I went to pick my daughter up. I told my parents why I needed her to stay...that they were about to be grandparents again. My dad asked if I was happy. When I said yes, he said that he was happy for me.

Mr. Wonderful and I only saw each other 3 times between then and June 14, 2000. One time at the doctors office, where I had my first ultrasound. Once at my office...where things got very heated and the custodian told him that he needed to leave. Then a final time on Valentine's Day. He said he wanted to see me. We had spoken on the phone at least once a week, but each call was ugly. He made his position clear and felt the need to share how I had taken control of his life. He would support this child, but I was a non-factor. As the subject of items I needed came up, he said to give him a list and he would get the items because we needed two of everything; one for his house and one for mine. The last time he saw me....I was robust with a full belly...it was crystal clear to him that this baby was coming, like it or not.

While the anger toward me subsided, the coldness and the business like treatment did not. He wanted me to not eat pork, as he'd been raised a certain way and expected me to honor that way of life. He also wanted me to give the baby his last name. I was having none of this, as I planned to give this baby the same last name as my daughter. We also argued over names. He wanted to name the child....well, I lamented to the middle name, but I knew the first name. I had known it since that fateful day tripping up the steps... Malcolm.

Three weeks before I was scheduled to have a C-Section, my OB informed me that I needed to go on bed rest. I suffer from migraines and since there was nothing that we could do to prevent them, I needed to minimize my stress level. I had also had several panic attacks. I was seeing a psychiatrist for this, but he too, was limited in what could be done. So, I left my job on maternity leave. I had 8 weeks...three to deliver and five to recover. I was ready...except, the parishioners at the church called me none stop. The bulletins had been printed for a month ahead of time. Any non-published news was to be conveyed during the announcements in service. I left explicit instructions for everything. What I didn't count on was the level of hand holding they still needed. I would have to come to the church 3 times in the week after my leave began to show them how to do something or locate something that they seemed unable to find.

On June 11th, I refused to answer the phone. I enjoyed my day. I did have a minor level of cramping, but nothing out of the ordinary. Monday was more of the same. Tuesday was also routine. I spent the day watching television. I closed the night with a chat with my girlfriend and a discussion about plans to watch Richard Roundtree in Shaft before heading to sleep. It was as I hung up that I noticed that I hadn't felt any movement in awhile. I chalked it up to him being sleep. I still felt concerned, so I gave him the usual battery charger....orange juice. Nothing. All at once I got scared. I called the medical answer line. They suggested that I lie on my left side and do a kick count. I never did lie down. I called my doctor, who said I should come into the hospital to get checked out....just in case.

All of a sudden, everything sped up. I found myself rushing to the hospital with my daughter in tow. If it was nothing, we'd grab a late night snack and head home. If I had to stay, my mother would come pick up my daughter.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was ordered into a wheelchair and taken up to labor and delivery. I was given a gown and hooked up to the portable fetal heart rate machine. Silence. So, the nurse used the Doppler to try to locate the heart rate. Silence. She apologized for the difficulty, telling me that she had been having trouble with that monitor all night. Then a second nurse came in and used the same machine. Silence.
After a few minutes, the two nurses returned with a doctor. He bluntly stated, "there is no easy way to tell you...your baby is dead." I screamed! I stopped almost immediately when I realized my daughter was standing right there. I reached for the phone to call Mr. Wonderful. The nurse offered to help, but I wanted....needed to make this call myself. The moment I heard his voice... The nurse told him he needed to come to the hospital. She also called my mother to come and get my daughter.

He arrived soon after my mother left. He was quiet at first, then began asking why we weren't doing something to deliver the baby. I said that they were doing all that needed to be done. At about 8 am, the nurse came in to tell me that they would be sending me for some test before I would be given medication to start my labor. This was NOT the plan. I cannot deliver vaginally. She stressed that they must try to deliver the baby this way. I said I would not consent. I called my psychiatrist to have him explain that this was not an option. I don't know what he said, but it worked. They backed off and told me that my OB would be in to talk to me about my options.

The hospital staff sent in a counselor with SHARE, which is a support group for parents who have fetal and infant loss. They explained that we would not get a birth certificate, but would receive a Certificate of Being. We would also receive his pictures and the swaddling blanket, along with some other keepsakes and a memory book. Then they asked us all the pertinent information. Mothers name. Fathers name. Baby's name...Malcolm Amir ____________. I wanted to give him his sister's last name, but his father asked me to please grant this wish. With that, he was given his father's last name: minus the addendum that identified him as a member of the faith that his father subscribed to. He was angry about this, but I was unwilling to budge on this point.

After detailed ultrasound, I returned to my room to see my OB. At this point, she was 5 months along in her pregnancy. She was so devastated that it was hard for her to speak. She agreed that we would follow the plan to deliver Malcolm by C-Section. She needed to see a few patients at her office, but would return and would would begin at 5:30 pm. Mr. Wonderful and I slept as we could. He went to the office briefly, but was back well before the delivery. At 6:14 pm, Malcolm Amir was born to the most silent room I had ever been in. Within minutes, Mr. Wonderful was told he could go see him. I was being sewn up.

When I returned to my room, Mr. Wonderful and I were given a few minutes with our son. His dad held him and admired his son through glistening eyes. He handed him to me, but I could only hold him for a moment. He felt light. As though he were only a feather of the Angel Wings he'd become. They took him away for an autopsy and his dad made arrangements with a funeral home for a private service for him.

I spent four days in the hospital, recovering. My doctor wasn't ready for me to leave, but I needed to get home. I needed to go to the service for my son. She told me if I didn't feel ready, I could call her and she would re-admit me. I spent the night on my parents sofa. The next day, Mr. Wonderful took me to my house to dress for the funeral. It was a simple graveside service, but there were a lot of people there. Our son went home with his dad's family and co-workers there to say goodbye. I returned home with his dad at my side to care for me.

We were far from healed and certainly not better, but we both supported one another. We lost ours son on this day, 14 years ago, but we found ourselves. I miss you my son, but I thank you for the 36 weeks we had together and I love you.

Welcome To My World...

2014-06-14T00:59:00.000-07:00

Since this is my premiere post, I thought I would take a moment to set the tone for what I hope will be a wonderful journey. I’m not sure about you…but for me, I am a DREAMER! I am notorious for contemplating the grandest of ideas. I also admit to the world that I have a die hard work ethic. By that I mean I wish it would die….HARD. I suspect I was planned by God to be an Executive for an amazing company. Unfortunately, I haven’t encountered a company that could afford to hire me and offer the benefits I require….so for now, I work for one of the WORST Bosses in the planet. I kid you not….SHE hired me on a Monday and fired me on a FRIDAY! Then realizing she still needed someone to do the job, called me the following Sunday to BEG me to come back! Well, I suspect that my need to eat and feed my family is what drove my motivation to say yes. Now….here is the kicker…we do this same stupid dance every week!!!

Call me crazy…but at the end of the day, I must admit…..I love my job. I am learning to love my boss too. When I think about it…she’s really not a bad person to work for. She’s got a GREAT heart! She LOVES her clients and their families. On more than one occasion, she has cried as a client has left her business to pursue other endeavors. Add to the fact, that she spoils everyone she comes in contact with…whether it’s her cooking, crocheting or offering advice….she is like a mother hen to all who come in contact with her. So, I suspect….I will continue to do this employment dance with her.

(In case you’ve written me off as a lunatic….please note….I work for myself, so I guess all the previous thoughts make sense….sort of….)

The Parenting Diaries

This Date In Personal History

Welcome To My World...