FRIDAm (freedom)

Sometimes I paint.  I love it.   But who has time, really?  I usually paint when I'm feeling something so deep that I can't write it down (yet).   I find that the colors,  not necessarily what I use them to shape - are what helps.  Last year I was very sad and I started a winter landscape.   It felt heavy and unbearable.   So much so that I couldn't finish it.   I hate snow.   I hate being cold.   I let it dry and shoved it to the back of the hallway closet - "I cant." Yesterday I dug it out.  I was ready.   I added color.  Icy water.   Northern lights.   A shooting star.   It was finished.   The weight of winter was beginning to lift and the colors in the sky were proof.  I don't hate it anymore.   It's a good story that I haven't finished telling with words.     

Blitzing a BOLTrayal

I’ve started to write about my Chargers story at least once a month since the announcement but I haven’t been able to bring myself to finish it.  I’ve got decades of content but it just doesn’t feel right.  It’s not ~flowing~ from my brain to my fingertips, but writing about it has helped me understand why the Chargers have been such an important part of my life…

Idk what year it was, but I was little.  My parents & I were walking around (not shopping, we were poor) Plaza Bonita on a Sunday.  My mom went into Montgomery Ward & my Dad went into Radio Shack while I watched a game being played in the snow on TV thru a store window.  I’d only seen snow once before & I hated it so I was amazed @ how people could live in such weather.  I was so confused at what they were doing & why but I wanted MORE.  It was FUTBOL AMERICANO, & although I had the attention span of a goldfish I figured out that San Diego had its own team & thus I declared my loyalty to the San Diego Super Chargers.  I, like many of you, remember watching the 1994 AFC Championship game vs Pittsburgh where Seau was ALL over the field, Pupunu cracked open an imaginary pineapple in the end zone & Gibson had that fateful knockdown to get us to the Super Bowl.  That game that Americans fussed about & ate chips at.  THAT GAME FINALLY mattered & I NEEDED a jersey.  But, again, we were kinda poor so my awesome mom, in a pre-Pinterest era,  made my friends & I Charger bolt pins out of blue & yellow felt, so I pinned mine to my royal blue windbreaker & passed them around to my friends @ school & invited them all over for a SUPER BOWL PARTY!  Where we would eat the chips & win the game!  I BELIEVED we would win!  But alas, Stan Humphries & the Chargers got steamrolled by Steve Young & the Niners & I was left with my first blue & gold heartbreak.  I could not understand why they insisted on running it up the middle.  I did not understand the X’s & O’s. 

For about 5 seasons I worked Sundays & was left to watch high(errr…low)lights @ the end of the day, which wasn’t so bad considering this was around the Ryan Leaf debacle.  I did make it up to Carson one summer to watch them practice though, which is weird now, in hindsight.  In 2001 came LT, Doug Flutie & Drew Brees & I FINALLY had enough money to buy myself my first jersey:  a powder blue #21 *strikes LT pose, flips ball*  The following season my cousin Nen won 2 tickets to the Chargers/Chiefs game at school & she was awesome & took me instead of one of her  brothers – who were also Diehards.  I attended my very first home game @ the age of 21, with a 13 year old girl, in the nosebleeds, surrounded by Chiefs fans but WE WON – BY A POINT- in true Charger fashion!  I was hooked.  That day I decided that if I ever made enough money that I’d become a season ticket holder someday. I wore that LT jersey every week – even in the offseason.  I copped a couple pullovers in the offseason on clearance, which I threw into my weekly rotation & wouldn’t you know it?  I was rocking one of those pullovers the day I met LT.  I was interning @ Z90 my senior year of college & one of the DJs was speaking with him in the lobby.  I was on my way out but I stopped dead in my tracks to stare at them & then realized I was being weird & started toward the door again when suddenly Tre (DJ) caught up to me.  Momentarily retarded I asked “is that – is that really LT?” to which he said “Yea!  You wanna meet him?” & before I could reply he was walking me back over to him & my heart was racing & I started sweating.  When I finally got in front of him I couldn’t do anything but shake his hand with my right & cover my face with my left.  I just kept saying “Thank you, omg thank you!” to which LT said “hey nice to meet you Susie, that’s a nice shirt” I bowed & backed away in awe but can you believe it?  This paisa chick from the barrio with her clearance Chargers pullover purchased off my bakery wages had just shook hands with LT & he knew my name!!   I later realized he’d read my name off of my necklace LMAO but hey, how many Chargers have read your name off your jewelry huh?!  Also -  who BOWS?!  LOL!  I was still working Sundays but my Dad gave me a small, old school black & white TV that you could either plug into an outlet or into the cigarette lighter of your car.  So I’d prop the TV up on the bakery counter & listen/watch & try not to cuss between customers at the register.  Soon, my Apa started to share my passion for the Chargers so much that he got the old school Chargers logo (with the horse) tatted on his forearm with my initials -  ‘SD’ bc, he said, “you are the biggest Charger fan I know.” 

When I landed my first job out of school my Apa & I purchased half a season & thus began an epic run of bonding.  My Apa was always down for me.  He was hard on me growing up but he didn’t trip during the games when I got embarrassingly loud, took a zillion pics or chain smoked @ halftime.  I will always cherish those days with my Apa.  Over the next few seasons I kept running into (stalking) Chargers all over the city.  Rodney Harrison @ Foot Locker, Igor Olshansky & Nick Hardwick @ a gas station, Kassim Osgood @ the Tavern (who bought shots for the entire bar when I told him it was my bday), Drew Brees @ Hoover HS, Reche Caldwell & Tim Dwight @ Jamba Juice, Luis Castillo @ IKEA.  Countless more while I hung out at the Bullpen, a bar/grill conveniently located next door to the Cheetah’s near Chargers Park.  We eventually purchased an entire season a few years in a row, despite Brees’ shoulder, Nate’s missed kicks & back to back playoff losses.   My Apa & I were at the old moldy Q when LT broke the TD record, and we leaned over the rails as far as we could to watch the O-Line hoist the greatest running back of the decade into the air while we all chanted “LT! LT! LT! LT!”  We were also there in 2007 when we finally won 2 playoff games back to back & fair weather, bandwagon ass fans were literally popping the tags off the jerseys & hats they’d worn to the game.  Dude, the emotions the following week were crazy!  We were on our way to the AFC Championship & we had a bye & home field advantage & it was like 1994 all over again, but better.  Bc THIS time we were gonna win with authority.  But we lost.  We barely lost.  AGAIN.  By ANOTHER missed kick & I was drunk, and thinking about how I was moving to Hawaii in a few months & I did not know if I would ever have times like these with my old man & this team again.  So I cried.  I cried like a basic drunk girl on her way home from the bar without her phone or a burrito & the next thing I knew some lady was asking me my name & where I was from.  I slurred it & she jotted it down.  The next morning was MLK day & thankfully I didn’t have to be @ work.  My flip phone had like 15 missed calls & another 6 voicemails & as the hangover kicked in, I listened to each one:

** first message sent today @ …*  mija its dad.  Hey, uh, call me back ok?  Bye

*next message sent today @ … * mija, get up, gimme a call ok”

*next message …* heeeyyy girrrll...just calling to make sure you’re okaaayyy, hit me up

*next mess-…* hey Susie, (oh sh** - realizing it was my boss) just checking in, lmk if you’re OK…

*next* DUDE IM IN ORANGE COUNTY ARE YOU FRIGGIN KIDDING ME (LOLS) THIS IS CRAZY (LOLS) ITS IN THE PAPER UP HERE AHAHAHAHAHHA”

*ne-…** mija, its dad again, call me

I called my Apa first.  I grabbed my cigs & put on my house shoes & called him omw outside to smoke.  He said there was a BIG-ASS picture of me crying in the tribune.  I grabbed my wallet & walked to the liquor store around the corner right then, with him on the phone the entire time, talking sh*t about the loss, puffin on my cig, dragging my chanclas across the pavement as fast as I could.  I flicked the butt & turned into the store. 

SMH.  No.  No.  No, this is not happening, no.  Oh, WOW.  Oh no, OH MY GAHHH *unfolds newspaper, jaw drops*  LARGE color picture of my faded ass in a blue wig, crying about the Chargers.  I looked over at the dude behind the counter & he was looking back at me laughing.  I’d seen this dude at least once a week since I was 10, he watched me go from buying candy to buying  lottery scratchers, cigs & booze & now he watched as I stood there, a hot hungover mess, smelling like empty beer cans & cigarette smoke, horrified.  His phone rang & he stopped laughing long enough to speak Farsi into the phone & cash me out for 5 copies of the paper.  I walked home wondering how this happened & then fuzzy bits & pieces came back to me & I recalled the small lady with the note pad & the questions.  OMG THAT’S why she asked me how to spell my last name!  I walked in the house & showed my Mom & even though I could tell she wanted to laugh she said “ayy mija” shook her head & made me bfast.  I went about returning calls, emails & myspace messages the rest of that day.  I went to a friends house that week & she’d set it as her screensaver. The next day at work someone had pinned the pic up in my cubicle.  It was funny, yes. I was super sad though. It’s never been “just a game” to me. 

Living in a different time zone before smart phones were a ‘thing’ made it challenging to watch games but I managed.  We’d still purchased the season & sold some of the tickets but I traveled back to SD for the season opener.  When I eventually moved back I was so happy to be home that one of the first things I did was get the back of my neck tatted with a bolt. My Diehard status was sealed in bloody blue & gold ink.  I had so many great times that season tailgating with my Dad & friends, but I was single & I really wanted to meet a guy who understood (among other things) what it meant to be a True Blue Charger Fan.  Somebody once said if I ever met the right guy that I would probably get married @ The Q.  I will admit that at the time, I didn’t think it was a bad idea!  Haha, classy! 

I met C online.  I was wearing a Charger jersey & an eye black sticker in my profile picture, we met 2 days later & we haven’t separated since.  Our mutual love of the Chargers has always been for better or for worse.  We have matching jerseys, matching tattoos & our anniversary (09/10) usually lands right before the first game of the season.  We used to live in an apartment in Mission Valley & that whole season we rode our bikes to the stadium with cold beer in my backpack & we’d cruise from tailgate to tailgate until Game Time.  So many good times chillin with equally Charger Crazy friends. My family & I may not always be on the same page about things but we could always agree on the Chargers. 

So when Deano basically text the city of San Diego to break up with us, I was kinda stunned.  Which is dumb bc all the signs were there.  For 15 years the city pointed the finger at Deano & Deano called the city names & it got messier & messier.  But I mean, really Deano, a letter?  Not even a press conference to show your stupid face?  No opportunity for a farewell season for the Diego Dedicated?  Junior Seau was probably turning over in his grave. Watching a “FIGHT FOR LA promo on YouTube the other day made me queasy.  I almost threw my phone across the room!    WHY will you ‘FIGHT FOR LA’ but you WONT ‘FIGHT FOR SD?!’  They don’t even want you!!  Clearly, I am still pissed. 

My Chargers story begins like a sad mariachi song.  It runs the gamut from a classic rock & roll hit to a Hawaiian reggae jam & even a wretched Taylor Swift breakup song.  Then the music STOPS.  And in the quiet, I had to figure out if I wanted to keep dancing.  I had to decide if I was still down to ride or if I was going to burn my jerseys.  I am a woman scorned.  But I am also business-minded, & I understand that this is business.  I am not spending any more money on this franchise.  I am not purchasing another jersey, I am not driving to LA to watch them play  or paying $100 to park,  I will not shed any more tears for this team.  I feel like I’m writing a eulogy.  I know, I’m so dramatic, but Chargers football has never been “just a game” to me.  Learning about American football as a young paisa girl helped me assimilate into a culture I wanted so badly to be a part of.  And of course, it being the Bolts, I had to learn about losing.  It taught me to be resourceful on Sundays that I had to work.  It taught me to be a good sport.  These days it motivates my tired ass to socialize.  The Chargers season starts tomorrow.  I haven’t watched a single preseason game but I will be watching tomorrow, & I will continue to watch on Sundays.  I still want them to win, I wont root for any other team.  Raider fans get to root for the Raiders regardless of what toilet bowl they’re swimming in.  I am mad, yes.  I am butt-hurt, yes.  But this is business, and I don’t know anything about being a gajillionaire.  I’m just an old diehard.  I understand some old skool Charger fans live in other states now, & that makes it easier to transition to another team.  Maybe if we lived somewhere that had an NFC team I’d consider switching too, but for now, you won’t catch #teamavila in another team’s jersey.  Call me crazy but I think Deano will eventually sell & another gajillionaire will move the team back to SD.  Maybe I’m delusional but for now, I’m not gonna stop believin.’

Spirits

Sand

My Abuelito Teofilo passed away in 2002.  I don’t REALLY know what year he was born but he was at least 80 when he passed.  I was 20.  I would not consider us as having a super strong bond but it was special in its own right.  I was his first grandkid (that he knew of).  My Apa & I inherited his birthmark on the same spot on our backs.  As a child I did not understand why he always smelled like sawdust & rubbing alcohol but I was happy to run to the corner store for him to pick up a pack of cigarettes if it meant he’d spot me a soda (poured into a plastic bag with a straw).  I didn’t understand why sometimes he would yell & throw things at my Abuelita, Apa, tios & tias but I was happy that he would visit & bring me cajeta & aguacates.   He was a little scary sometimes.  He was loud, was missing teeth & would curse everything & everyone between swigs of a bottle he’d tuck under the skirt of the couch.  As I grew older I realized that he was an alcoholic, a carpenter & an abusive father & husband but I didn’t care; I loved him as he was.  It was easy for me because I never had to bear the brunt of his demons.   For my tenth birthday he crafted a kid-sized vanity fit for a princess.  It was recently passed down to my youngest cousin. 

He grew frail.  I can still picture him now, in a plain white v-neck undershirt, sitting with his legs crossed & his arm behind his head over on the far end of the couch closest to the TV.  Chants of “JE-RRY!  JE-RRY! JE-RRY!” bounced off the cinderblock walls of his house while he’d mumble some obscenity in Spanish at the love triangle on the screen.  He’d always stand up to greet me “como esta mi muchachota?” & I’d always stop him halfway to sit him back down & slip him a $5 bill.  I’d been working for a while so I’d kick him down five bucks every now & then to enable his habit.  Almost everyone else complained about his vice but I knew he wouldn’t quit regardless of whether or not I gave him that $5.  He was always grateful & offered a blessing.  He rarely left the house but when he did he’d be in a leather jacket & a newsboy cap.  He even had a wrinkly old tattoo on his forearm of a shield from when he was in the Mexican Army.  Such an OG.  One day he quit drinking & smoking of his own volition…he died about a week later.  I wore my leather jacket & poured some Sauza out for him that night.  I was mostly sad for my father. 

I feel like he died right when I was beginning to understand him & was starting to get the courage to ask him questions about his life.  I regret not making a stronger effort to get to know him.  I’d heard whispers that he’d had another wife, a secret family from before he’d “taken” my Abuelita when she was only 15.  For all I know he might not have told me anything but at least I could have tried.  A week after his funeral I had a dream that he was at the foot of my bed scolding me & yelling “No sea miedosa!  Le voy a jalar las patas!” which doesn’t really translate to English (“don’t be a scaredy-cat, im gonna yank your feet!”)   - it’s an expression used to convey the idea of  someone coming to haunt you in the middle of the night - to tug on your feet while you sleep.  Told you it doesn’t translate.  -_-   Anyway – he did not visit me in my dreams again. 

Struggle

Last September, after 5 years of trying to get pregnant (naturally & with medical assistance) I miscarried at about 6 weeks.  This is another story for another time but to nutshell it, I did not take it very well.  I was a hot mess for about a week & then I drowned my sorrows in carbs, white wine spritzers & IPA’s for 3 months to fill the new holes in my heart & womb.  I managed to get my sh** together by New Year & about a week into my annual ritual of temporary sobriety (3-4 month detox from Jan-Easter) I went to dinner with family for another cousin’s bday.  She was born on our Abuelito’s bday, January 8.  That night he visited me in a dream again, nearly 15 years after he passed.  We were in a dark room, I was standing at a distance & he was sitting in a metal chair with a spotlight shining down on him.  In his arms was a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.  He tried to turn the bundle toward me but I couldn’t see her face.  He was speaking to me but I could not hear him, no sounds or voice were audible.  I yelled to him: “EN INGLES O EN ESPANOL?”  (my grandfather did not speak English).  His lips kept moving but again, I could not make anything out.  I yelled in English – “IS THAT MY DEAD BABY OR MY NEXT BABY?!” and again, lips moving but not a peep.  Frustrated, I asked him again with the same results.  I woke up in a fog.  The dream bothered me every.single.day, I questioned what it was he was trying to tell me, what it could all mean & how this would fit my Christian worldview. 

Silence

Last week, while floating in an isolation/sensory deprivation tank (another story, another time), I was drifting somewhere between asleep & awake when I suddenly felt a warmth emanating from my navel.  I can’t even really say for sure if my eyes were open but I visualized an amber light hovering above it.  Weird right?  Yea I thought so too - but I managed to roll with it & found myself flashing back to my “Abuelito:  the baby-wielding mute” dream.  I still couldn’t hear what he was saying but in this version I stopped asking about the baby because I already knew who she was.  A tear or two escaped me, and I found it ironic that it took a pod of salt water for me to come full circle in my grieving process.  I’ve read that “grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves ebbing and flowing.  Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming.  All we can do is learn to swim.” 

Soopernatural

I didn’t go into this situation deliberately seeking this experience, I don’t know how to meditate & I’m certainly not on drugs.  I tread very lightly when it comes to exposing myself to alternative spirituality & other peoples’ energies because it scares me & frankly – I don’t want to ‘feel’ their burdens (demons).  My faith in God is first & foremost based on the Holy Bible, which states that we are not to add to or subtract from the Word of God.  Therefore, I don’t believe that the Bible left out chakras or hallucinations or meditations on accident.  BUT I do believe that our Heavenly Father gave us free will & the Holy Spirit, which, when coupled with other spiritual gifts (perception, servitude, teaching, encouraging, giving, mercy, etc.)  can lead our souls on some pretty crazy journeys, and nothing is impossible with God.  He created the heavens & the earth, He made it rain manna, made a whale spit out Jonah, parted the red sea, kept David safe in a den full of lions, He rose the dead – He sent plenty of people throughout the old & new testament dreams & visions, who’s to say he can’t send us one now?  Also, deprivation tanks have been known to induce hallucinations, sooo there’s that.   In the meantime I’ve filed this experience in the box in my brain where I keep aliens, the Bermuda Triangle & la chupacabra bc I just don’t know & I probably never will. 

Sarahi

I’ve asked God to take this sorrow from me in so many different ways, too many times to count.  I’ve stopped asking for a baby.  I’ve asked Him to make my paths straight, to take away this desire to be a mom & instead help me focus on all the other ways He’s blessed me.  I’ve asked Him to help me be a blessing to other people, and their kids, to help me figure out a way to serve Him by serving others.  To please help me temper this vice so it won’t affect my marriage – this vice I inherited the predisposition for from my Abuelito.  Call it science or subconscious, imagination or coincidence.  Call me batsh** crazy if that helps you make sense of it all – I don’t care.  All I know is late at night, after I’ve said all my prayers, I’ve finally found peace knowing that my badass Abuelito is watching our baby girl until God calls me Home & THAT is the BEST gift I could have EVER received this birthday.  

Phillippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Miranda Rights

Day One of Criminal Justice 101 class, 2004.  Thank you, CourtTV & every single race driven trial for making it so easy to pick an elective.  Thank you,  predominantly white, Christian, upper class private university for pissing me off daily & providing me with an audience rife with superiority complexes.  Two truths & a lie, she said.  I just happened to have a LOT of time to prepare since she started in the back corner of the classroom & I tend to sit by the door (quick escape).  Gaaawwwd why is everyone soooo corny???!!  OK.  I’m ready.  Hmm, that was a good one.  Come on Token Black Guy make it a good one…*sigh* lame.  He must be dating a white girl.  Why am I sweating, I’m not even nervous... dammit this chair is narrow & I am fat.  Eek here we go!  “I am a Comm major.  I have a 5 year old son & I am an only child.” 

*silence*

*eyes darting around*

Token Black Guy:  “THERE IS NO WAY you’re an only child!” 

Everyone else:  “Yeah!  Only child is a lie!”

Me:  “I don’t have kids”  *sits down carefully*

Criminal Justice Professor *jaw on floor*

*silence*

Pinche Checkmate Cabrones.

  

Hasta La Pasta 2016

2016 has been rough.  People died bc they were the wrong color, sexuality, religion, etc. but somehow some of us were more upset about a dead gorilla.  There was worldwide destruction,  protests, & contaminated water (& not just in Flint & North Dakota).  We were bombarded with each others opinions during a hostile election season & we weren’t all as tolerant as we could/should have been.  There were dead pop stars, environmental disasters & wars.  At least one captured drug lord, a pandemic & the TV told us nothing was ever safe.  Not a church, not a movie theatre, or a park, or your office holiday party or the voting booth or your conscience -  nothing. 

Personally, my faith, marriage, health, career & friendships were all tested to varying degrees.  I questioned God’s plans, I challenged my husband’s decisions, I neglected my fitness, I took a risk with my career &I also judged many friends as they shared their opinions of our undocumented/Muslim/LGBTQ/colored neighbors from what I assumed was a pedestal of privilege.  I started out 2016 so hopeful, so committed to exhausting every opportunity that I was presented with; so determined to impose my will on Cesar, on my body, on my friends ballots, even on my God’s divine plans.  And for the most part, I fell flat on my face.  I fell into a sad little hole & at the bottom of that hole I found cookies & beer. 

A couple weeks ago, I saw a picture someone had tagged me in with a group of people & I thought my eyes were closed in it.  But no, my cheeks are just that puffy right now.  I am NOT saying this fishing for compliments – please believe me when I say that I am as vain as I am confident but lets be real, cookies & beer is not undoing any of the emotions 2016 brought with it & now I am just uncomfortable.  Like, if I cant wear leggings somewhere I am not going, lol!   And it’s a damn good thing idgaf what anyone thinks about me bc the other day a girl (who is like 5’9, 110 lbs & doesn’t age) said to me: “you’ve gained weight huh?  I can tell bc your face is SO ROUND!”  (as she gestures a wide pancake shape around her face)… & I couldn’t even clap back because I literally had a friggin bagel in my mouth.  So wtf was I REALLY supposed to say to that?!  LOL so I just nodded & chewed aggressively.  Swear like I was gonna stop eating that bagel.  Trippin. 

All this to say though that I just feel like a lot of BS went down in 2016 & I did not adult properly & deal.  Instead I stewed.  And I ate too many cookies & drank too many beers & I stopped going to the gym.  So I am breaking up with 2016 & all of the depression, disappointment, despair, discrimination & donuts it brought with it!  It had some highlights, don’t get it twisted, I know I am beyond blessed.  But I am human & I cannot front.  Sometimes I am burdened.  I hope this makes sense, please don’t misconstrue the message.  I am just saying, sh** was rough.  And I guess that is the beauty of it.  That if you’re reading this on 12/31/16  you & I are still blessed to have able bodies & sound minds, and God-willing the safety & well being of our loved ones.  We even have this blessing/curse of social media to communicate with/compare ourselves to our family & friends. 

Idk what 2017 is bringing.  But I know that I am not going to continue to reopen wounds,  I am going to let go & let God. I am not going to be so consumed with the pain that I do not see the gain.  I will recognize that the burden is the blessing, and I will remind myself that His mercies are new EVERY DAY, that He will turn my mourning into dancing.  I pray that the coming year brings you the basics, the beautiful, the blessings & beyond.  One love – S

#TLDR #harambeforever 

salt & blood

There we were, about to undergo our first IUI, (intrauterine insemination).  My body had finally done what it was supposed to do & I was inseminated.  I had many nightmares during my two week wait, and after each one I’d peed on a stick – negative.  Too soon to tell but it helped ease the anxiety.  Another dream promised a son.  When the official test date finally came it was still negative.  I was disappointed but I was OK.  “God’s got me” I said.  I’d just landed a new & important position at a very large bank & I knew it would be difficult for me to focus/”kill it” career-wise if I was pregnant.  I chalked it up to God’s plan & moved on.  Except, my period never came.  5 more negative pregnancy tests & 3 days later I called the Dr.  I went in for a blood test then headed to the gym after.  Not 2 steps inside the gym I had results – It was POSITIVE.  Omg.  Whuuuut.  No, I’m reading this wrong.  Call nurse.  Pace back & forth.  Leave gym.  Nurse calls back – yes, positive!  Numbers a little low but still normal, continue retesting every other day for the rest of the week.  TEARS.  JOY.  RELIEF.  EXCITEMENT.  ANXIETY.  *squeals*  C was astounded.  It’s not that we didn’t believe that God would fulfill His promise, we were just so used to hearing Him say “WAIT” that we were almost afraid to get excited.  Dude, I was giving my amazing, deserving husband the greatest bday present EVER – my heart of hearts whispered “a son.”  The days went on & I felt great.  My boobs weren’t sore, no nausea & my smile was goofy as ever.  We discussed plans to convert the man cave into a nursery, my walk in closet into OUR walk in closet. 

We were headed to the river with friends on Friday, C’s 32^nd bday & I would have to tell them since they would suspect when they saw me beer-less.  We stopped at the lab @ 7AM, my #s hadn’t QUITE doubled but the nurse said it was OK & to just retest Friday to be safe.  I had to pee a lot on the way to Parker.  Right around Holtville C started talking about plans for the backyard.  Saying he would build a playground & put a sandbox in for Boogs & Bams to dig up with the baby.  I didn’t want to overwhelm him by talking about the baby nonstop (I’d secretly started pinning baby shower themes & maternity outfits) but when I heard him start to make plans & sound excited my heart was just SO full.  My lab results came in, HCG level 67!  Woohoo, it had TRIPLED since Monday!  We’d just passed Glamis when the nurse called.  The way she said “heeey…” made me instinctively hold my breath.  She said our baby wasn’t going to make it.  She said I was going to miscarry.  The normal HCG range for 5 weeks is 200-7000, I was at 67.  I don’t know what I said back to her.  I hung up the phone & sobbed through the rest of California & all through Arizona.  I cried my full face of makeup off, which if you know me, is A LOT of product to cry through.  Between wails I explained to C what she said.  I was devastated.  Gutted.  Frightened.  Would it hurt?  She mentioned it could be ectopic – would this mean I could ruin my one good tube?!  Heavenly Father WHY?!  I wanna go home.  I want my Mom & I wanna go home & I wanna be near a hospital.  But I need to be with my husband, and he is here.  I tried to bargain, tried to find a way to get out of it but there was no point.  He needed me as much as I needed him & we were 30 mins away from an emergency room.  The nurse said it could take weeks.  I had to continue with the blood draws to monitor my levels.  The weekend at the river consisted of me trying to put on a brave face as to not make anybody uncomfortable as everyone was there to party & it had been planned for months.  When nobody was looking I would sneak away & crawl under the covers & read scriptures while I did my best to keep my wailing quiet.  I hated that this awful news had tainted C & I’s “happy place” – the place we plan to retire.  I did my best to  have a good time but neither of us really wanted to be there & although we have very awesome, understanding friends, I just needed to be myself.  I was starting my new job on Monday, how was I supposed to bring my ‘A’ Game LIKE THIS?!  We drove home in about 4 hours of mostly silence.  He kept his hands on my leg, my neck, my face, my head, my hand.  I read Psalms.  “Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.”  When we got home I went into “go” mode.  I cleaned, unpacked, got ready for Mega Monday & then my sweet mother stopped by to drop off mole.  The food of the Aztec Gods.  I figured now was as good a time as any & I told her that I got pregnant but it did not appear that I would stay pregnant.  She got out of her van & she prayed for me, in the street, in front on my house.  This woman, who lost 3 babies, all my younger siblings was about to go through it AGAIN with her grandbaby.  I could not even speak.  I was exhausted & sorry & done. 

That afternoon I bawled in the shower.  I came out into the living room looking like the Llorona & I researched ‘what to expect when you’re expecting…’ a miscarriage.  I tend to read a lot to try to prepare myself for a lot of different situations but I did not know how to read my way out of grieving.  I told C that I was going to lay down for a bit.  I read Job (pronounced like “Joe” with a ‘B’ on the end).  The Bible says Job had it pretty bad then God rewarded & restored him.  I chose to read about Job bc I knew that despite his suffering he never ONCE cursed God.  I have a tendency to shake my fist at God & I wanted to ensure that I did not grow angry or bitter, or drink my way through grief they way I did when I found out I was infertile.  After about an hour C came into our bedroom & laid with me.  He held my face in his hands & let me cry, he asked me what I learned reading Job & reassured me that he understood what I was feeling & that he was upset too.  He said he knew I needed to be by myself to find peace & trying to hold it together in front of 9 other people all weekend had depleted me emotionally.  He said that I was enough for him & that he loved me just as I am.  He said I would go to my new job the next day & kill it, like I always did & that he believed in me. 

The next morning I woke up with the puffiest eyes I’ve ever had.  No all nighter, no 3 day bender, no loss had ever caused me so many tears.  I drew my eyeliner a bit thicker to distract my new boss & colleagues from the swelling & since they’d never met me with my typical hooded eyes they’d be none the wiser.  Monday & Tuesday I again wept during my nightly shower.

My mom visited every other day for a week & every time she came she instinctively  brought me something I needed:  comfort food.  Mole, albondigas, rice & beans, cake, salad (cuz you know, ya gotta balance it out).  Obvie I ate my feelings.  She let me spew hours of emotions on her between bites & she gave me sound advice & every night she hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, told me she loved me & said “don’t give up on your dreams mija y que Dios te bendiga.” 

On Wednesday morning the bleeding began & I was frightened at how much of it was coming out.  That night C took me out to dinner to the same spot that we had our first date.  When I asked why he said “Because we can” & as I stared at my menu I thought about all of our friends who were tucking their babies in & wondered if any of them would trade places with us.  There are benefits to not having a baby but do the pros outweigh the cons?  I chose to not torture myself with hypothetical questions, ordered a double IPA & decided to live in the moment. 

I passed the baby the next morning.  I had a strong cramp while brushing my teeth & I ran to the toilet & sat there pushing & praying for 20 mins.  I prayed for strength, courage & power bc I did not have time to deal, I had to go to work & I did not have the luxury to cry.  I opened the bathroom door & had a clear line of vision to C who was sitting on the couch looking directly at me with his eyebrows raised, forehead wrinkled & mouth grimaced.  “I am pretty sure I just passed the baby” I said as I choked back tears “& I don’t have time to deal!”  His expression fell as he turned his face away.  He flinched.  C, My Rock was shifting & I had to gut this one out for the both of us.  When Friday came I’d decided that I would hike on Saturday.  Hiking makes me happy.  Hiking allows me to be by myself, listen to music, challenge myself physically, be in nature & pray when I reach the summit.  It took me twice as long to get to the top.  I had to stop several times on the way up.  My salty tears mixed with my salty sweat the whole way up.  I was completely used up.  I made it home just in time to get a good scolding from C.  On Sunday I was physically exhausted, my womb was sore & swollen & every pang reminded me of my baby.  After the Chargers lost (AGAIN) I went from room to room trying to figure out what to do with myself to snap out of this deep blue abyss. C said I was acting weird.  I dug out my paint supplies & my last canvas.  I’d been saving it for when I thought of something really cool to paint but this was now the equivalent of smashing open the glass that encases the fire hydrant during a blaze.  I had no words to write yet but I had color, and that release was enough to get me to Monday. 

The nurse confirmed with my last lab that I had indeed miscarried the previous Thursday.  I was still feeling some bloating & discomfort to which the nurse responded firmly with “NO HIKING OR HEAVY LIFTING FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK.”  With each day that passed the bleeding tapered & so did the hysterics.  I’d have one good day, one bad day & so on & so forth.  Friends would text to catch up or make plans but I did not have it in me to socialize – I was barely adulting.  I finally came to bed midweek & announced that I’d made it though my shower without crying & was beginning to come to terms with God’s plans for us.  I still struggle very deeply for several reasons. 1) C & I have been trying to have a baby for nearly 5 years & we have never come so close 2) we believe life begins @ conception & therefore I believe my little 5 week old nugget had a soul.  S/he had all the beginning layers that would form his/her organs & therefore I … 3) I questioned every single thing I did the previous 5 weeks that could have caused this loss:  did I overeat, lift too heavy, sit down too abruptly, stress too hard, exercise too much, was it that glass of wine with anniversary dinner?  Am I just too old?  Am I just undeserving?  I could go on forever. 

Ultimately though, I know in my heart that I have a loving & forgiving heavenly Father that 1) hears our prayers & petitions 2) is holding our baby in His arms until we meet again in Heaven & 3) no, there is nothing I could have done differently, 15-20% of known pregnancies end up in miscarriage.  It’s hard to absolve oneself of responsibility though when your first duty as a mom is to protect your baby & the word “miscarriage” in & of itself almost places blame on the mom.  For MIS-CARRYING.  Carrying incorrectly.  As if we truly had control. 

Anyway, I know I am not alone in this & my miscarriage is not unique.  My mind understands & reasons, my heart & soul aches for my baby.  I am now a mom, I just don’t have my baby with me.  I know that my loss does not equate with other women’s losses who have had multiple miscarriages, many much further along or who have had to bury their babies young & old but something inside me is prodding at me to share my mess(age) with you & so here I am, spilling bloody, heavy guts. 

In this crazy world we live in, filled with hate, racism, election coverage, protests, murder, killer clowns, where people are ill & don’t have access to food/water/shelter – in this real life world my loss is but a speck in the universe – but when I cry out to God I know He hears me.  He hears everyone who cries out to Him in their suffering, their loss, frustration, fear, weakness, illness, poverty, hunger, anxiety, need.  And I KNOW He’s GOT ME & I am doing my best to live & walk in that knowledge.  And He hears you.  He hears us even when our grief is so great that we cannot form words, only groaning amidst tears.  I want to apologize to you for not being “present” lately & possibly in the near future as I take time to heal.  I am sorry if I bail on you last minute – I am simply using up all of my energy to power through my day to day & sometimes being a good friend is the last thing on that day’s list.  I am doing my best to not withdraw completely, although I want to – because I know that’s not what God intended for us – we are meant to be in fellowship & I am doing my best to socialize & not drink too much & not feel too much in front of anyone.  It’s not pride.  It’s effort. 

I know some of you have wanted to ask how I am doing but have not found a way to ask without hesitating out of fear for making it awkward or upsetting me – thank you for asking, I wholeheartedly appreciate it.  Some of you might be wondering why I didn’t tell you.  The truth is, I just couldn’t.  I wasn’t ready.  I know you understand where I am coming from, some of you firsthand.  When I realized that I could not get pregnant naturally my silver lining was that at least I would not have to go through a miscarriage as I did not find myself to be strong enough to cope.  But the Lord has strengthened me & brought me to & through this in the same way that He brought Job through great loss, Jonah out of the whale – though desert, blood, blubber, mistakes,  & prayer I will overcome & in His name I will be restored – mind, body, heart & soul.  If you ever find yourself in a hole/whale/desert you cannot climb your way out of, trust Him, He is good, all the time & He’s got plans to prosper you & He’s GOT you.  

The Llorona & Hannah

Backstory

I am an only child.  I am not the “typical” only child because my parents never intended for me to be an “only” so they made sure I knew how to share.  I will spare you the details but my Ama had a lot of miscarriages.  As a kid I got lonely, despite having a gazillion cousins.  Once I was a teen though I was grateful to have my own room & I got pretty used to not *really* having to share.  As a young adult I decided that I would marry in my early to mid twenties & pop out as many kids as possible because:  Mexican.  I wanted 3 boys & 1 girl:  Abraham, Isaac, Jacob & Angelina – yes like Jolie (facepalm).   Fast forward to New Years Eve 1998-99.  I was getting ready to go to a party but I didn’t feel very well.  I kept getting ready though because it was NYE dammit & I had a party to get to.  I walked downstairs & attempted to use the restroom one last time before I hopped in my hooptie to leave but the pain was intensifying.  Damn those 2 Jack in the Box tacos I had for lunch!  Being the stubborn teenager I was I got in my car anyway, stuck the key in the ignition but could not move to reach around for my seat belt.  I yelled for my parents & the next 24-48 hours were mostly a blur.  There was a lot of probing.  Lots of bright lights.  Lots of morphine.  I was freezing.  I don’t know how many different times & ways I told the doctor I was a virgin & that I was not having a miscarriage, that it was the tacos.  I do recall dropping an F Bomb in front of my very conservative mother which prompted her to tell the doctor that I wasn’t lying & that she didn’t have to “leave the room” for me to tell the truth.  I knew it was getting bad though because in between my trips to space I’d focus in & see the strong & stoic “Ama” I was used to seeing suddenly crying uncontrollably over me & praying.  I wasn’t afraid.  I knew I wasn’t dying but I still told God that if I was then I was ready.  When I came to I remember asking for more drugs & being told that I had an ovarian cyst rupture & hemorrhage but that all my parts were intact & that I could still have children.  Thank God!  I thought.  What man would want a girl who can’t have kids?! 
In college a lot of Life happened & my priorities shifted.  My dreams of getting married & starting a family were shattered by a Jarhead & the War on Terror.  I drowned my sorrows in Long Island Iced Teas & put my faith in Marlboro Lights, dead-end relationships & lots of dancing.  I was at a different club every weekend, sometimes on top of a speaker.  I did NOT want kids, kids were gross & they ruined your life.  They impaired my ability to get up & go as I pleased.  I was glad that I could just stay as drunk as I wanted & not deal.  I took my Pill every day & yet I still managed to have a couple “scares.”  I would not quit drinking those months when the wait was a little long, instead I would continue to live fast & boast that I was “Nobody’s mother & Nobody’s wife.”  But when “Nobody” was looking I would sob because deep down I knew that THIS was NOT what I really wanted for myself, THIS was NOT The Plan.  I told myself that if I did not have kids by the time I was 30 I just wasn’t going to do it though.  I was getting more set in my ways & the longer I waited the more selfish I got.  Fuck slowing down. 

More Life happened & C & I were getting pretty serious.  We moved in together kinda quickly & it prompted me to write up questionnaires of sorts to ask each other every night & they helped get to know each other better.  The only condition was to be 100% honest.  One buzzy night I mustered up the nerve to ask him if he would still be with me if we found out that I couldn’t have kids.  He said yes but asked why.  I just said “I don’t know, I had issues as a kid & I think that it could be a possibility & I don’t want you to resent me someday if it ends up being that I can’t”.  He just said he didn’t care & we went to sleep.  I “officially” came off birth control in 2012, although we’d already been in between methods the prior year.   We didn’t REALLY discuss the possibility of getting pregnant, we just kinda figured we would not NOT “try” & see how it went.   I didn’t really think this scenario through.  Every month that passed brought another imagined symptom.  I COMPLETELY obsessed:  Am I ovulating?  Are my boobs hurting?  I think my boobs like, HURT.  I am like, a DAY late.  OMG what if this is it?!?  Oh Gawd.  Wait!  It’s cool now I can totally have a baby shower & a theme. And like, a baby.  Bc “babies” are accessories right?  You know, like purses.  Your outfit (“family”) is not COMPLETE without one, right? Amirite? Omg this baby is gonna be chubby with Asian eyes, cutest ever.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.  I cant drink.  So many sad emojis. 
Is this Real Life?

My period ALWAYS came.  Two weeks late, on time & everything in between.  And let me tell you that bitch came with a vengeance.  She wanted to make it clear we were NOT fertilized or forming a microscopic human THIS month.  I’d get sad for a bit.  Like “oh bummer, no tiny cholas or Hulks this month” but I always got over it between weeks 1 & 3.  Weeks one through three I would Google “French baby girl names” & practice “Luke” in cursive. 
Me (on phone):  “Dude I’m TOTALLY gonna get a stroller that looks like a ‘64 Impala  Yea hot pink, obvie.  But the baby shower is gonna be TRES Francais.  You know, because Paris.  And comme ce dis “CLASSY” au Francais?  Otherwise its gonna be a co-ed shower on football Sunday.  Yes Chargers, OBVIE.  Blue & Gold.  Yaaaasss girl.  Taco guy.  Yaaaasss the men will totally play the baby shower games.” 

*queue screeching brakes sound* 

Other couples just KEPT getting pregnant.  We didn’t worry too much though bc we weren’t 100% focused on having a baby, we were 75% focused on buying a house & 25% focused on having a baby.  But after about a year & half 25% focus would have still prompted a “scare” & we did not have one.  We went to the doctor.  I quit drinking.   Took prenatal vitamins.  I ate right, exercised.  I bought ovulation packs in bulk.  I propped my legs up against the wall.  I drank Robitussin & Chinese herbs & Mexican herbs.  I went to a Botanica & ran past a taxidermy monkey & a La Santa Muerte statue crossing myself & praying I’d find the tea my friend’s Mom’s Tia’s Comadre got pregnant on quickly before the Curandero Brujo behind the counter offered me a Limpia.  “No gracias, just the tesito today.” Then I went to acupuncture.  Nothing.  Then C had had enough.  And honestly so had I.  When we finally bought a house we were faced with a different set of challenges but you know, we still tried, we just didn’t worry about it….

Bargaining

When I say WE I mean C.  Let’s keep it real, something was WRONG.  I mean come ON chicks get pregnant on accident when they are faded and here I am damn near standing on my head & doing cartwheels & nothing is happening!

 *queue insecurities*

I shouldn’t have drank or ho’d around so much in college.  I mean, I’m pretty sure its broken.  Oh I know!  I am just gonna keep doing what I am doing but I am ALSO gonna volunteer with Kids Ministry.  Nooo I know God doesn’t care but you know, what if HE DOES?!?!?!?  Dude, if I could just make up for 2003-2008.  SO MUCH damage. 

And THAT friends is how I GROSSLY misunderstood Grace.  If you’ve never heard anyone explain it before, Grace is unmerited favor, from God.  No matter what you’ve done or how long you did it.  If we repent & have Jesus in our hearts it is by Grace, through faith that we are saved (Ephesians 2:8)  – not because we volunteer or tithe or Adult or WHATEVER. Christ got what we all proverbially deserved on the cross & there is nothing we can do to make up for it or to undo our sin because Jesus’ blood washed us all from it & we don’t have to.  Its FREE 99.  And it is hard for a little immigrant Paisa girl to understand how to accept God’s FAVOR without earning it.  In between all of this I heard my first sermon on Hannah.  The Bible says Hannah desperately wanted a baby but that the Lord had shut her womb.  The sermon was too relevant & unfortunately for me I was sitting in the middle of the 3^rd row from the front & I am certain my Pastor watched me bawl the entire message.  Also this ruined my perfect eyeliner, which just added insult to injury.  Yay for sunglasses.  More on Hannah later. 

Bummed

More time passed and it was time to go back to the doctor.  Neither of us are aging in reverse, although we like to pretend.  After more blood work & tests they determined that C was not the issue.  Dr.  A asked way too many questions.  “Doc, could you NOT… you know, like talk & sprobe?”  I heard a high pitched noise in my head after the words “cyst” & “endometriosis” & held back tears as internally I screamed:  “WHY ISN'T ANYTHING EVER EASY FOR US?!?!??!!!??!?!?” Fine.  Yes I will go get the tube test Doc, sure thing. 

DUDE.  I did not know that there was a way to recreate the pain I felt on NYE 1998 until the day I did this GD test.  Understand that although I have a very bad mouth - I try my damndest not to take the Lords name in vain but I just cant even with the intensity of this test.  This shit hurt so bad that I could not control my screams or my tears.  The nurse apologized profusely & held my hand while I apologized back for “being so dramatic.”   Now I knew why I had to sign that pinche waiver.  I looked at the doctor & he seemed….idk sad maybe?  Idk I doubt he was sad bc he is a professional but his face definitely changed.  He pulled the monitor closer to the 3 of us & explained that my left fallopian tube was totally blocked.  Well shit.  I had the afternoon off work so I went home to take Aleve & cry in private but that didn’t last long because I had not one, but TWO baby showers to plan (which I was happy about bc selfishly it did not give me the luxury to overthink things).   Dr. A called within the hour to say she couldn’t help me anymore & to schedule an appointment with a specialist ASAP.  To which C replied “you know what would help you feel better?  A puppy”  
*queue Boogie* 

Specialist Doc did not give me an opportunity to address my diagnosis of Endometriosis & the ovarian cyst without also steering me to the immediate solution of In Vitro Fertilization.  She was arrogant & dismissive and made me feel like a putz for not jumping on the IVF bandwagon.  To clarify, In Vitro Fertilization is when you extract mom’s eggs & fertilize them with the dad’s best available sperm & then reinsert the bun back into her oven.  This is pretty standard, expensive, and in my opinion, invasive. 

Me:  “But I really just want to know what to do about this cyst so it doesn’t rupture & cost me an ovary”

Specialist:   “yes, well, if it grows you’ll definitely KNOW, but in the meantime you should just consider In Vitro.”    

M:  “No but isn’t there a surgery that will clear out the blockage in my tube & remove my cyst?”

S:  “You’re not a good candidate, the cyst is too small to remove without damaging the surrounding eggs & fallopian tubes are too delicate to clean out.  If we cleaned it out it would remain rigid & it would not help move things along, I recommend you try in vitro fertilization” 

Me:  “No but I’m not “there” yet I’m just trying to see about healing my situation first“

Specialist:  “Why not?! Getting pregnant is the BEST solution for endo & you have a very good chance that In Vitro will work”

M:  “What about insemination? What about the tube that isn’t blocked, am I not ovulating on the proper side?”

S:  “Your odds are not that good.  Think of it as a game of poker.  With poker, there are chips….”

*insert pissed off emojis*    Bitch!  Staaaaap comparing C & I’s commingled DNA to poker chips, these are lives not odds!!!

We’d just picked up our Boogie baby a week before my consult with the Specialist.   I left the Specialists’ office defeated and void of all prayer or hope.  I still had to stop at Gymboree to pick up another baby shower gift though, and manage not to lose my shit with every tiny outfit I bought for someone else’s baby.  When I got home C asked how it went & all I could do was pour a GIANT glass of wine & cuddle with the puppy.  All I managed to communicate was that it was bad & that apparently the only real hope I had to be a mom was via IVF.  That night, instead of our usual bedtime prayers & fart jokes C held me while I wept.  That night, I cried for all the times I hadn’t cried in the previous four years & then the next day I got up & went to work like I did every day before that – because life.  And because you can’t deposit excuses.  

We met with our Pastor the following week & discussed where insemination & IVF stood Biblically.  We prayed.  I cried.  My pastor extroverted all over the place.  I knew where I stood, C agreed & we drove home in silence. 

Then came the awful realization that my parents would not have grandkid.  My parents, who tried so hard to have a big family & only ended up with a crazy quasi-chola nerd that they technically still feed once a week were stuck with just me.  Sorry Apa, this is where your last name ends.  It bothers me though when his friends & family say “Children's children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children” (Proverbs 17:6).  Yes, its in the Bible.  Yes, it is true.  But also, kiiiinda condescending when taken out of context.  Like when people interpret this into meaning “if you are a Godly parent, you’ll have grandchildren to show for it”  or my FAVORITE:  “the BEST Moms get promoted to GRANDMAs” …  um.  No.  Sorry but not always. 

Hating

Fast forward some time & another puppy & in came the sin & the doubt.  Look – I am OBVIOUSLY no where near perfect.  I am pretty awful @ being a Christian and as of late have been in pain & well past the average amount of cranky once a month for a few days.  However, when I found out that God was not about to make my little fairytale come true I lost my shit. 

I felt like The Llorona.  La Llorona is a story about a lady who lost her mind over a man & drowned her kids, then drowned herself.  She spends the rest of her nights haunting a river in Mexico yelling “aayyyy mis hijos” (ay, my kids).  I just skipped the murder & suicide part & went straight to mourning like “aaayy mis hijos!!” LOL I hope you can tell that I’m kidding, but really this is how I picture myself when I think about how crazy my emotions can get. 

Every now and then there came a month when the struggle was SO real that I was certain I was drowning in a river of blood, shame, tears & self pity.  The only way I knew to undo the knot in my throat was to pour beer all over it and that is exactly what I did.   For about a year I ate & drank everything in my path in hopes of numbing away the inadequacy.  Cookies & beer I always say, and we all know I don’t really NEED a reason to drink beer or eat cookies, the difference was that I also stopped going to the gym.  I was fucking unraveling.  I didn’t want to see anybody.  I gained 15 lbs & I did not GAF.  Until I had to put on pants.  “aaaay mis pantaloooones!” 

Then there were those months that I’d committed to staying sober but instead a knot of worthlessness in my throat would still (sometimes unexpectedly) develop into anger & prompt me to compare myself to everyone else & ask why?   Why not me God?  We were both hot messes in college.  Shit, she was a ho AFTER college,  Which one of us is more deserving?  I’d be a good mom too… 

Man, those judgy pants sure slid on easier than my real pants. 

Yeah, I know I am wrong but let’s just acknowledge that it is hard when you see people who you think are less deserving than you succeed at something you haven’t been able to do.  Grace never seems fair until we need some of it for ourselves.  It also sucks when your friends all start talking mom stuff and you're just standing there waiting for an opening to talk about SOMETHING ELSE.  I mean don't you work?  Travel?   Puppies?  Adulting?  Election year?  And they complain & complain  and I just have to do my best to be a good friend & not let my own crap get in the way.  To clarify, I am not jealous of these girls OR their babies.  I am genuinely happy for all of them & I love their kiddos, but some days I'm just mad & I wish we would talk about something that didn’t constantly remind me of my brokenness.  Some days I say I'm going to the gym so I can cry in the parking lot of said gym in peace.  But then I remember that ain't nobody got time for self pity and grief and tears so I suck it up and work it out because I CAN control how hard I run and how much I lift.  Plus this way C doesn't see me cry or question why he's not enough or why I'm not satisfied with what I have.  And I don't have to look him in the eye & apologize for being insane when really I just want to grieve without judgements or words or anything but tears and groaning.   And I thank God for C and this able body that I can pound this treadmill with and slam these weights with because this is the only thing I can do to keep from going batshit crazy on days like this. 

And then comes the day when I catch you staring.  Yeah you.  You who knows my business.  And not bc I’m fly (although I am) but bc you feel sorry for me.  With all due respect, stop.  That is the nicest way I can say it.  If I have to say it again there will be cussing in Spanish.  YES, I may have some tough days where I wished it was me.  Where I pray that if I suddenly died I hoped C would remarry someone who can give him babies; Days where I lift my eyes to the sky & say “God just come get me.  I'm done learning all the lessons you have for me on this earth.  I'm ready really ready God I'm done.”  No I don't want your pity or your sympathy, this shit is not cancer.  I am fine.  Days when I'm sweating and simultaneously crying as if I were menopausal and I'm laughing like a maniac and I'm pining for a baby but THOSE days come to an end.  Usually around the 28^th-31^st day of every cycle.  And they are replaced with days when instead I am thankful.  I am thankful that it hurts.  Every day.  Physically  & emotionally.  And every stab, burning twist is a real & constant reminder of the shit I cant do.   I am grateful that I am here, and that this is the ONLY thing my body cant do.  I do not need your pity.  Stop looking at me like that.  I am made in the Lord’s image (Genesis 1:27).  I am fearfully & wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).  My God’s GOT ME.  But seriously why the hell isn't grief LINEAR?!?!?!  Nope, I am fine. I am going to be fine. 

HEaling

Yes my God.  My Heavenly Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Jesus, Jehova, Yah-Weh, He heals me.  And the mania ceases. 

There is triumph.   There is victory.  But this story doesn't end with a picture of a sonogram announcing a miracle.  

Remember Hannah?  Hannah was married to Elkanah.  In the old days it was cool to have as many wives as you could support.  Elkanah was also married to Peninah.  The Bible speaks of what Hannah could not produce:  Peninah had children but Hannah had none.  Although Hannah had no children Elkanah LOVED her more.  But yet the Bible still speaks of what Hannah could not produce.  What if she was really pretty, or smart, or considerate, a great cook, what if she had ABS??!  Well, the only thing I can come up with is that the Bible wants to point out that the enemy wants us to identify Hannah with what she has the INABILITY to produce.  He wants us to identify ourselves with something negative & camp there. 

In the Bible it says that God shut Hannah’s womb – which makes me ask why?  Why would God just deprive her of the petitions of her heart?  Have you ever had the tools to attain something but you still cant get there?  Does it drive you crazy?  I sometimes catch myself thinking:  “this is the ONE thing a woman is SUPPOSED to be ABLE to do…”  where is the lesson in this?  Uuuggghhh then I just end up cross-eyed because GOD’S time is not MY time. 

What I haven’t told you yet is that Elkanah’s other wife (the one with kids) likes to  provoke Hannah.  “Look what I can do, check out all my kids” but what’s crazy is that Elkanah loves HANNAH so much that he gives her a DOUBLE portion (of food) & so Peninah hates on her even though she has MULTIPLE of what Hannah prays incessantly for (a son).  Hannah prays so hard at one point that a priest thinks she is faded, but Peninah is the one hating on Hannah.  Why?  Idk does Hannah have God’s favor?  Idk this is a weird one for me to try to explain, especially when I ask myself HOW Hannah has gained Gods favor?  Hannah has God’s favor because Hannah has FAITH.  She knows that God will turn her mourning into dancing (Psalm 30:11).  And just like that I realized that grief is not linear & inner strength is an illusion.  I cannot muscle through everything.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

Now I am just being honest.  Bc of the baby showers I was planning & the subsequent emotions I was avoiding I did not properly grieve.  And I knew it.  I did not acknowledge Jesus bringing me to it & through it I only knew I was mad & sad but I did not have time for either.  Once though, I did manage to ask C if HE was OK with all of this & do you know what he told me?????

HE SAID:  “Babe.  I married YOU.  I did not marry you bc you could have my kids, I married you bc of YOU,  bc I love YOU.  So no, I don’t care that we cant have kids.  Would it be nice?  Sure.  But it does not affect US.” 

THIS.  THIS from a Mexican man.  Do you know how many macho MEXICAN men will LEAVE you for not being able to bear them a SON?!  Never mind a seed altogether?!  How amazing is C?  Mega hulkSMASH amazing!

In the middle of Hannah’s story Elkanah asks her “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?"  Now Elkanah did not understand Hannah’s heart when he asked her this but stay with me bc you may also be asking yourself why I am whining about not having a baby when I am still so blessed beyond measure.  So here it is:  I am grieving the idea of being a mom.  My husband is ENOUGH.  He is MORE than enough, he's amazing.  The last thing I want is to make him feel like shit about us not being parents bc he never resents me or makes me feel awful for not bearing his children.  Sometimes I just can't cry in front of him though.  Not like this.  Not until I overcome.  In the process of me overcoming I questioned God’s ability to heal.  And I picked the right person to ask.

Me:  Babe.  So I would only ever admit this to you bc I know you wont judge me for it… but even though I believe God has the ABILITY to heal me, I don’t think He WILL.  How do you even come to terms with your hip (my husband has an old injury that left him with a bad hip & severe pain) when you see an able bodied person wasting their blessings?”  *tears, snot*  “This isn’t fair.  He doesn’t pick & choose does He?  Idk man, are we not worthy, would we have been monsters if we managed to have it all?

C:  C’mon babe.  Your spiritual gift is Faith, don’t say that. 

Me:  Well then that ought to give you an idea of where I’m at right now. Like, why not US you know?  Is there some great big lesson in all of this, are we supposed to like be examples somehow bc idk how pitching a fit & shaking my fist at God is any kind of Biblical example of Faith.  I mean seeeriously, we are forever swimming upstream. 

C:  Remember when I was upset about money & our careers, and layoffs & trying to invest in our future but not having a gun, or a boat, or a house?  Do you remember what you asked me? 

Me:  I said  “well, how do you measure success? Bc if success is tied up in material things or the security of a fat 401k then you’re missing the point.  Look how far we’ve come.  We will not take any of that with us.  Stop comparing the opportunities that we’ve had to those of others.  Our God provides.  Our marriage is strong.  Our bellies are full & we have a roof over our heads.  That’s success.”

C:  Exactly.  So how did you expect God to heal us?  With a miracle?  By giving us what we want when we want  it?”

S:  *tears*  I guess sometimes he heals us physically & sometimes he heals our hearts…

Deliverance

The Proverb I quoted earlier about grandchildren being crowns does not only apply to biological children, nor does it infer that grandchildren are prizes, or PROOF that you’ve parented in a Godly way.  It can also be applied to Spiritual Children  (i.e. my Godson, my nieces, nephews, younger cousins, mentees, anyone really who has ever come to me for spiritual guidance or life advice).  Do you think those count as “crowns to the aged?”  Well, I hope so.  My parents did their best to set a good, Godly, real life example to me & everyone who has ever stepped foot in their house out of love & reverence for our Lord Jesus – regardless of the promise of crowns.  And then I suddenly realized my parents did not give a flying **** if I couldn’t bear children.  They just want me to be happy.  And if I could find happiness without a baby they would be down to never have to babysit.  I’m pretty sure my Apa is looking at RV’s online & plotting a cross country road trip right now… LOL!

THIS isn't over.  My story will inspire without a cute announcement or a glitzy baby shower or a name & a birth method someone will inevitably judge.   But it will shine and laugh in the face of conformity and prevail.  In those months when the pain is too much I know He is holding me up and showing me that in Him, I am free from my past & there no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).  That there is nothing in my past that I am “paying for” & that I am Redeemed, daily.  He makes me see & understand that I am not here bc of the circumstances around me but bc I’m standing on Gods promise.  That His delays are not denials.  That I should not allow myself to get discouraged – regardless of what society or culture or the media tells me how it's “supposed” to be, I will not doubt & allow the enemy in because FAITH not tears please God.  I am now in the process of telling myself that not only is He able, I know He WILL. 

I told my new doctor that I am not “one of those women that hangs their hat on being a mother.”  I said this because she was also being pushy about IVF & I did not feel like being vulnerable or explaining myself.  I figured that she would respect that more than me maybe saying that I was afraid or that although I want to partake in creation that I am hurting & I just needed her to just let me be.  If I’d have told her I was a vegan Jehova’s Witness hipster she probably wouldn’t have questioned me but I was too tired to come up with that one on the spot.  Regardless, I will not allow the devil to take my spirit from me while I’m waiting on the promise, I will keep praising God, despite having been in church many times where I have not audibly worshipped the Lord.  Because sometimes the overwhelming spirit of God makes it so I cannot speak without tears flowing & I keep praise in my heart.   

SELFish

Now, I should probably tell you that although I am labeled a “Christian”  I suck at it.  This is not excuse time, this is reality time.  I do my best to lead like Jesus every day but I inevitably fall short every single day.  This piece has foul language, perhaps some risqué topics, and may even seem straight up irreverent to some of you.  All I can say is I am sorry.  This is just where I am.  I will continue to work on it.  I want to make excuses but in reality I should be making every effort to be like Jesus & sometimes I just kinda half-ass it.  It’s not OK.  I am aware & I am working on it.  I am coming to the realization that trying to be more like Jesus is not about being a better person, its about being held accountable to God (Romans 3:19). 

With that said, I am also working on trying not to wear myself too thin by overbooking my schedule & overcommitting to people, causes & events to try to make up for my self-worth.  Usually, overscheduling allows me to procrastinate feeling anything.  Because I’m “too busy!”  And God forbid people think I’m lazy.  It’s almost like I’m saying “hey just bc I’m not a mom doesn’t mean I don’t have a million things to do.” 

Today we are right in the middle of a lot of uncertainty & decision making with regards to becoming parents.  We have a few more doctor appointments but have not ruled out the possibility of adoption.  We honestly do not know what God has planned for us but we know we are down for whatever.  We are down for a non-Mexican, disabled, older child if that is what God wants for  us.  I am scared & idk how I’m gonna manage but I trust that if He brings me to it, He will bring me through it.    

Back to Hannah - Hannah wanted a son so bad that she prayed to the point where she could not eat, sleep, function.  She told the Lord that if He gave her a son she would dedicate his life back to Him.  “And the Lord REMEMBERED her, after some time she gave birth to a son & she named him Samuel, “Because I asked the Lord for him” (1 Samuel 1:19-20).  She breastfed him & as soon as she weaned him she went back to the temple, dedicated his life to the Lord & left him there to worship all the days of his life.  You know what’s crazy about this story?  First, I am supposed to have a brother named Samuel.  He is in Heaven, serving the Lord.  But think about that for a sec.  What if you prayed & prayed for say, a house & in the process you promised God that if He would just “give” you a house (I say “give” in “quotations” bc it bothers me when people approach God like a magical Genie) that you would turn it into a church.  And then you get keys.  Would yoooou reeeeeaalllly turn your pad (man cave included) into a church?  Where people come seeking solace at all hours of the day & night?  How gangster is Hannah?  She gave her son back to God.  Her SON.  Then what happened?   God gave her SIX more.  Yeah, forreals.  Seven kids! 

Rest. 

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him (Psalm 62:5).  I feel like a cheeseball saying this but He might not come when you want him to, but He’s always on time. I do not know how much longer we are going to be down to go through this process or how weak or strong we will be throughout but I do know that He loves us.  He loves us so much that His Glory will eclipse our afflictions.  I have no idea what we are going to be living the next few months but I do know that however this story ends it is already part of my testimony, that it is God’s will, that I will submit to it & surrender to it & that it is WELL WITH MY SOUL. 

Thanks for reading.  I hope that despite our differences you found a lesson in this piece that you found relatable & are able to apply somehow to your own life.  

Happy Mother's Day...  

One Love, blessUP 

Sources: 
-The Holy Bible, NIV, via the YouVersion app
-1 Samuel 1:1-28 re:  The Birth of Samuel
-Youtube Sermon by Pastor Larry Weathers:  October 3, 2009 Greater Morningstar Apostolic Church in Maryland
-Never Marry a Mexican, Sandra Cisneros