Big day

It was a big day. It was a hard day. I can't say much more in this moment than that. Although I think I will post on the private blog later...

I am lucky for the love in my life.

I am lucky for the incredible gift that is my son. In his birth and in his death and in everything inbetween.

I just wish sometimes that it didn't have to be so big.

Time for a nap.

Meme-in

As I've been catching up on blogs, it seems that y'all have had a meme-in. It's been fun reading more about everybody and where you've been and what you'd been doing before we all met up here on this part of the road. So, I'm joining in on the meme-love. Here we go...

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?

I graduated from college. I had just written and produced my first play at school. I was planning a move to Chicago in the fall and the summertime was filled with dating someone new and babysitting an amazing girl, Annais, whose mother was a theatre actress. My cousin, Vassi was babysitting Annais' best friend, Alex and Alex's sister, Sarah and we spent our days together at the Claremont, swimming and playing lots of canasta. Before fall came, my Chicago plans got sidetracked as I got offered my first post-grad paid theatre job in SF. I worked as an assistant producer/office manager for a one-woman show and non-profit arts organization. Just before the year ended, I got an opportunity to go live and work in Ireland. I said goodbye to the theatre gig and jumped on a plane to London, not knowing that this would begin my life-long affair with travel, foreign men, and the gypsy life.

2. What 5 things are on your to-do list for today?

Well, these were 5 things (the day is now over)
- Go to Passport Center to get my name changed
- Call D & JD to reschedule, R to schedule, and A to check-in
- Get a bathing suit (uh, I finally did it) and gifts for my niece, my brother-in-law, and my mother-in-law to bring to Italy
- Do laundry
- Catch up on blogging

(Can you tell I'm done with my 3 jobs right now?!)

3. List some snacks you enjoy.

- All Mariposa goodies!
- Popcorn popped in olive oil
- Soy chai and 18 Rabbits' cheeky cherry chocolate granola bar (my Peet's fix)
- Cheese (too many kinds to name) and wine (ditto)
- Almond butter and creamed honey on whatever gluten-free fixin' I've got in the house
- Red grapes or cherries (no other fruit quite compare)

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?

This a hard one...what wouldn't I do?!?!?

- Buy us a house in Berkeley
- Open up our Italian Wine Bar/Arts Space on the San Francisco Bay
- Open up a Healing Center by the sea (either in Italy, Greece, or No. California Coast) - like a retreat center with art workshops, therapy, writing, music, dance, etc. for people in need of a place to process away from home (and have the guests' visit subsidized so that it would be open to people of all different economic backgrounds)
- Open up a charity in Salvatore's name and donate to several organizations (too many to list)
- Fund all my friends' art projects - films, theatre, music, writing
- Travel and do volunteer work around the world. Pay for my friends and family to travel too!
- This list could take me all night...

5. List the places you have lived.

Oh shit. Are you still with me?

- Redondo Beach, CA
- Oakland, CA
- San Ramon, CA
- New York, NY
- Berkeley, CA
- Santa Cruz, CA
- Dublin, Ireland
- Galway, Ireland
- Chicago, IL
- Rome, Italy
- Bacoli, Italy
- Pozzuoli, Italy
- Brooklyn (Carroll Gardens, r-e-p-r-e-s-e-n-t), NY
- Baia, Italy
- Monte di Procida, Italy
- (and because it all comes full circle), back to Oakland, CA

Oh, by the way, I only moved twice in my childhood (both times before the age of 3)

6. List the jobs you have had.

Oh, fuck...this will be harder than the places I've lived...I'm sure if I didn't lose you at #5, I've lost you now...

- Babysitter
- Art Gallery Assistant
- Office Production Assistant - "Mrs. Doubtfire"
- Bookstore Clerk/Assistant Events Coordinator
- UCSC Records Assistant
- Assistant Producer/Office Manager - "Uncle Gunjiro's Girlfriend" and First Voice
- Waitress/Hostess/Busbitch (I stole that title from G. Thanks, G.)/Cashier - sometimes, all at the same time.
- Actor
- Playwright
- Arts Education Outreach Teacher/Mentor
- Office Temp Worker
- Chicago Symphony Orchestra Tele-fundraiser
- Personal Assistant
- Middle School Substitute Drama teacher
- Assistant to the Artistic Director at Shakespeare at Stinson
- SF Elections Worker (I had to patrol voting precincts and hand-count ballots in a basement for weeks...eek...thank god I got a touring theatre gig to get me out of there!)
- Catering Server
- English Teacher
- SF Shakespeare Camp Voice & Movement Teacher
- Gluten-free Bakery Worker/Bookeeper
- After-school drama teacher

(I wrote assistant WAY too many times!)

7. List the names of people you want to know more about:
I think pretty much all of you have done this, but if there's anyone who's reading this who hasn't, consider yourself tagged.

Back to life

ok, so now i have that soul II soul song in my head....remember that one? back to life, back to reality....

i tried to start a post here in the last few months about 3 times...saved, unfinished drafts with titles such as "joan didion", "making choices" and "returning to life?" with a very poignant question mark. i was having such a hard time explaining what was going on with me, let alone understanding it. basically, i fell into a very deep depression like i had never known. mimmo's always said that the hardest part was not when salvatore was born, when he was in the nicu, when we had the family meeting when they told us that there was no brain activity, when we had to decide to take him off of life support, when we took him off life support, when we had to decide if we were going to cremate him or bury him, when we picked his grave, when we had the funeral, when we buried him....all moments that at those *particular times* seemed the hardest moments. no, mimmo so astutely predicted that our hardest times where actually ahead of us...living...."moving on"...and in our case, finding out more disturbing medical information, things that did not go as they should have and trying to make sense of this life. this life...

so, i fell hard in april. it began with getting these medical records from children's. feeling betrayed and angry and unable to get the details and flashbacks and guilt and grief out of my mind. i felt like i had been kicked down the staircase to the first 3 months after salvatore's death. except this time, i was instead "in the real world"...needing to teach and function and go to my various jobs. like i said, i fell hard. so hard and so deep that i didn't know how to get myself out of it. i was, for the first time, feeling extremely suicidal and in such a "rational" way about it...when i had one day where in 2 hours i actually felt like myself and then saw myself in how i had been feeling that week...the thoughts and actions and feelings...writing suicidal notes and counting ambien pills and really, truly rationalizing the whole thing, i got so scared about who that person was....that's not me....that was deep deep depression and hopelessness and how did i even go there? ironically, (or not so ironically), i was confronted with a co-worker whose mother had just comitted suicide and then another new friend revealing to me that her father had comitted suicide when she was 10. i kept my secret hidden, ashamed. i was also confused about how i could feel so strongly in those moments and then be in another moment, where i felt ok...so, i started talking about it and sought more help. i started medication and actually called in sick 2 days to work. i am continuing writing this right now, a month later, in a very different place. how life changes -- constantly is changing.

where am i today? i am in my apartment. mimmo is in italy. i will be joining him there in 11 days. one of my best friends is pregnant and her very special son is coming in september...his due date is 3 days before salvatore's due date was and 1 day after his birth. as i am packing to put our things in storage here for the next few months while we are in italy, leila is coming over and we will be going through all of salvatore's things and see what baby malachy/malachi/malakai (i've named him...whatever his name will be, that's who he is to me :-) will be wanting. it feels really right...this new baby that's coming a year later...as if salvatore is his big brother, leila and i talked about, shepherding him on.

it's funny, this life. that same month of september, one year ago, i was very pregnant and leila and j came over to have breakfast and paint my belly cast together. i walked into the room as leila was dabbing away tears and j was handing her a kleenex and i said "what's wrong?,'. "uh, it's just hard," she said. "we've been trying. i just feel frustrated." later, j asked me in a supportive way "how was that for you?," and i said "oh, it's fine," and i hugged lei and looked at her watery eyes and said "oh, m'dear, it hasn't even been that long.," "i know" she said, still wiping away tears. "they come sometimes when you just don't expect them," and true to form...she told me later that the month that they'd stopped trying was the month that they got pregnant.



i must go as she just called and we are going to the temescal street fair...much more to say....and much love to you all with deep gratitude for your messages and understanding. deep gratitude for knowing you all, even in the seeming awfulness of this part of all our journeys. but, i can say in this moment...deep hope for all of us....for all that is to be.

much much love.

I don't know how to do this anymore

Ladies, I have hit a block.

It is so big and here I am trying to break through it.

I feel like I can't write. Feel like I can't do anything but cry. Feel like I can't see a reason to be here anymore, even though Mimmo is here...he's my reason...I can't believe my pessimistic husband ("I'm a realist," he always says) has this iron will to live, to move on, to get through this....and he believes that we will get better...that we have to...that there's too much of life that we need to live. "Dobbiamo lottare," he says ("We have to fight on"). I am tired. I just see a black hole. Pain. Injustice. I don't feel like I fit in anymore with my family, with my friends, with the world.

My co-worker asked me "how was your weekend?" after she told me that she went camping. I was truly happy for her that she had such a good weekend, enjoying the first day of the camping season. But, when she asked me "how was your weekend?," "what did you do?," I just didn't know how to respond. I spent the weekend crying and raging. Mimmo worked and I holed up for the most part in the apartment. It was hot and it felt like summer had come and I just wanted the day to become night. I told D that honestly, I don't even remember what I did this weekend.

I stare at Mimmo when he's sleeping and see Salvatore. I freaked out this morning because I thought he'd stopped breathing.

I have flashbacks everywhere. On the train. On my 10 min. break between classes. In line at Peet's. So many times when I see a baby.

Time is moving and it's now past 6 months...When M & I talked about ttc (he wanted to immediately), I said I wasn't ready and that maybe I would be at 6 months. I still feel scared and although I desperately want a baby, I also want Salvatore. However, in the last couple of weeks, I've been doing the looking at Italian baby names on the net thing. Oh, I also google drama school classmates to torture myself and see what they are doing with their lives while I'm a lost deadbabymamma. One of them just did a panel with Matthew Modine, some are touring with bands, and others are plugging away in New York. I know that I can't compare myself, especially now, but I don't know what to believe in anymore...about who I am, where I'm going, or what I want anymore.

So many tears, I feel numb.

6 months right around the corner

It will be 6 months this Wednesday, March 19th.

6 fucking months. Seems pretty unbelievable.

Where am I now at 6 months? I've just started 2 new jobs. I am teaching English at an EFL school in SF and teaching in an afterschool drama program through a theatre co. I am still working at the bakery through the end of this month. I have been "functioning" pretty well in this new world so far (it's just been 1 week), but I guess it helps being in a brand new environment where no one knows me. The truth of the matter is though, that I don't know me.

Who is this person who wakes up in the morning and goes on with her day? Smiles and laughs even. Slips in a conversation with a customer, when asked, that the reason she wears her wedding ring around her necklace is because she hasn't lost the baby weight yet to fit it on her finger. Forgets that this, of course, means more questions and when the customer asks "How old is your baby?," she responds so calmly, "Oh, we lost him,". Who is this person?

I feel like an alien, studying how to be in the world. Feel like an alien, because I don't know *how* to be in this world. The only time I feel like I'm not an alien is when I am reading the blogs of all you incredible women in deadbaby land. I didn't start this blog thinking that I would find other women like me. I started it because I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer. And, when I started it, I sent an email to dear friends to reach out & share. My first comment was from a woman who randomly found my blog and had lost her first daughter 16 years ago. She went on to have 4 other daughters, she shared.

About a week after my first post, I found the babylossdirectory blog and peered through the incredible number of blogs. So many of us. So many.

6 months I am still swimming through this process. I honestly haven't been one to mark time. I don't often think about Salvatore in terms of how old he would be. He seemed to be everything he was just in those 10 days. But 6 months feels big. Just last week when I was on the bus, a woman sat next to me with her baby who started tugging at me right away. I asked how old he was. 6 months. Issac. A big boy. He's in his "grabbing stage".

This week, I am not looking forward to. I want to do something special on Wednesday for Salvatore and for us. I don't know yet what that is. Tomorrow Mimmo and I have our interview with immigration. You're supposed to bring pictures from your wedding. I will be bringing pictures also of the 3 of us - our family.

Planning for the Unplanned

When I went to Italy in the summer of 2002, something very deep changed inside me. I was always a planner. Not to say that I wasn't spontaneous or I wasn't impractical (I mean, how could one get a degree in theatre arts and not be impractical). But, I was always rooted in "the next step", in my goals and my visions. In college, I would relish every semester in scheduling my classes. Fitting things together perfectly with getting the proper requirements, the right teacher, the right hours, the proximity from one class to another. I went to Chicago with the goal of working in theatre for 2 years. I did just that and left a couple weeks shy of my 2nd anniversary there.

How I ended up in Italy was the most unplanned event of my life up until that point. I came that summer to do an international theatre workshop in Umbria and a week-long residency with a theatre company in Tuscany. I had planned to travel afterwards for a month, first with my cousin, John and then with a friend, Christiana. One weekend of the workshop that we had free, I decided to go visit a friend of mine who was working in Tuscany at a seaside resort. I rallied together 3 other of the actresses to join me on an adventure. San Vincenzo & Ermanno (the place & the friend) ended up being pretty uneventful. We grabbed a wrong train on a sleepy Sunday and ended up in Rome instead of back to Orvieto. So, we decided to stay for a couple of hours and get something to eat in Rome before heading back. That's when it happened.

I literally found myself at the top of the Spanish Steps, coming from a roundabout way (the steps were closed because they were filming something) and I had a magnificent view of Rome. I was so giddy, I started laughing at my discovery and said outloud, "Oh my god! I'm moving to Rome!,". The other 3 girls laughed and poked me, jokingly "Yeah, I'm moving to Rome too...," and I said again, still laughing at perhaps the ridiculousness of it and at my revelation, "No, I'm actually having a moment here. I'm moving to Rome!,". When we got back to Orvieto, I called Vega who was a friend of a good friend of mine and was living in Rome. I was planning on seeing her after I finished the residency, but I had to share my revelation with her. She was so encouraging, telling me that there were plenty of opportunities to teach English there and that if I wanted to learn Italian, there were many language schools. I was excited and then, of course, I questioned myself. What was I thinking? I didn't know any Italian. I didn't have any money. I barely had enough money to support my travels. I didn't know anyone. Well, I kinda sorta knew Vega, but not very well and surely, not well enough for her to be my only contact in a foreign city. Right?

Rome began her lesson to me in letting go. From that first moment on the top of the Spanish steps to the next time I went there and Vega picked me up from the train station, I would get strong instincts about things, follow them, and find myself in the "right situation". I very quickly found other actors, directors, screenwriters, agents, & casting directors. My sister's car ended up breaking down in L.A., so she bought mine in CA and I had money to actually get me started. I took a teeny tiny studio on the Tiber River right near Piazza del Popolo and the Spanish Steps and I was often on that floor, giddily thanking the universe/God/whatever angels there must have been, I thought, to be supporting me through every step of this incredible adventure. Sure, there were lots of ups and downs, triumphs and dissapointments, but my time in Rome felt incredibly unplanned, yet scripted. Everything always seemed to work out, even in ways I would have never imagined. And, as much as I fought with it, I was no longer a planner. Rome had taught me time and time again that when I tried to plan something, it was often the "mistake" (i.e. taking the wrong train), the unplanned event that led me where I needed to go.

Many stories and adventures later, I end up meeting Mimmo, end up getting married (that wasn't "supposed to happen"), end up getting pregnant, and we end up coming to California to birth Salvatore. When we got to CA, we did prepare as much as possible with me taking a small business course to learn about opening a small business here if we decided to stay. We took childbirth prep classes, did the hospital tour, read books, and began preparing for Salvatore's coming. We got an apartment, started to nest, and then, yes, the most unplanned event now of my life occured. Only this time, this "mistake" seems to have no rhyme or reason. Everything doesn't work out. All that I've learned so far in my life from experience, seems to have gone out the door. I survived many difficult things in my childhood and perhaps this had made me stronger, but I never thought that I would have to face trials larger than those I faced and conquered from my early years. Nothing, and I mean, NOTHING can prepare you for this and everything feels like it is out of whack and anything I may have believed in is either questioned or shot down. It feels like standing on a battlefield after all the damage had been done and I am left alive, but everything has been destroyed. And, my whole life before seems like a different person, seems like a film, seems like lifetimes ago and I want to understand and yet, I don't know that I ever will.

I guess that's why I need to write. I need to remember who I was. I need to remember who Salvatore was. I need to ask these questions even though I may never receive the answers. I need to try in my own way to make sense of things, even as they feel so senseless. I want to write a new story. I want this story to have many unplanned events, but I want these events to have a happy ending. I know that that may seem delusional after all that has happened, but I don't expect "and they lived happily ever after". I just expect that they don't end in irreperable tragedy. I'm still stuck on this planet it seems, and even though there have been many moments that I don't want to be, I am still here all the same and I need to find a way to make it ok to still be living. The stakes are too high for life not to get better, to have meaning, and to have purpose.

The Kindness of Strangers

My mind has been full of all the "what ifs", lately...

And, when it returns to all the "what hads"...what had happened...all the players...I remember that there were some incredible nurses with Salvatore in the NICU who also held our hands.

Lizzy.

Lizzy seemed young and intense upon first connection. The first time I met her was when they had taken Salvatore off the cooling cap and I was going to be able to hold him for the first time. She was there when I moved my finger and showed her how he was hanging on to it with all his little fingers wrapped around my one..."He was saving that one for you," she said. "I don't understand how he can do this while they're telling me there's no brain activity?," I asked. "You know, there's something called science," she said "and there's something larger than science that we will never understand.,"

I had asked J to get a book to have people write messages to Salvatore when he was in the NICU. When it got returned to me, I saw that many people had written messages to all 3 of us. I came across Lizzy's message. It was written at 4am.

"Just returned to help care for & be privileged in sharing your wonderous little Salvatore. Upon returning I see a phone being held to his precious ear and know without doubt that his soul is connected to his mother & father, with mommy being so strong & loving and daddy, so compassionate and enduring with courage. Within the small amount of time I have been blessed to know you, I feel that you, Mimmo, & you, Lisa, balance and complete each other. Baby Salvatore has an old, wise, & grand soul far beyond our comprehension. He is such a gift filled with sharing and love. He has already, within a few days, taught both of you strength and love more than you've probably ever known. I wish I could take away the pain and hurt you feel. I know in my heart that both of you love Salvatore & are the best parents he could have & will continue to do things with his best interest in your hearts and minds. It is so evident he is loved, wanted, & appreciated. I feel very privileged to know you and Salvatore. Thank you for being so wonderful - BOTH OF YOU! ALL OF YOU! Love, your nurse Lizzy



Another nurse I only met once. I can't remember her name, but I will never forget her. She was on-call the day we were to have our family meeting with the Drs. The day that the Drs. told us that after doing the brain cooling cap therapy and doing the MRI and EKG, that nothing had changed. Mimmo and I came back from the meeting and Salvatore was being serenaded on guitar by our friend, Alice. Alice sang him a beautiful song she had written. After she had left, I noticed that there was this new sound machine on Salvatore's bed. I asked the nurse what it was. She said that she went out on her break and bought it for him, because "I thought, he doesn't need to be hearing all these machines! Little did I know, he was going to get live music!".

Privacy

Some things have gone down and I need to keep writing and reaching out to you all and hearing your comments, but I realize that some of this stuff I need to go private with...

So, if you leave me your email in the comments (and I know you, either from "the club" or otherwise) I can send you a link to the new blog.

I will probably keep posting here as well...but, the post I needed to write today is not going here...

*Salvatore*, la nostra stella*

Se esprimi un desiderio è perché vedi cadere una stella, se vedi cadere una stella e perché stai guardando il cielo
e se guardi il cielo è perché credi ancora in qualcosa. - Bob Marley

If you make a wish, it's because you see a falling star
If you see a falling star it's because you're watching the sky
And if you're watching the sky
it's because you still believe in something. - Bob Marley

Salvatore's first book was not, infact, the Dolphin Book. While we were still living in Italy, and I was about 5 months pregnant, I found a sweet, small book in a museum store called "Stelle". It was a book written by a Neapolitan artist that described the stars to children. I tucked it inside our luggage and one day, at 7 months, while still staying at my mother's house in Berkeley, it popped out. I had never shown it to Mimmo before that night "You must read the Stars book to Salvatore tonight. He needs to hear his papa read him a bedtime story in italiano,".

Mimmo read to him for the first time. Hearing his deep gentle voice and his asides to Salvatore as he read on "Oh, Salvatore, if you could only see this star right now...How beautiful!," and "Did you know this? Papa didn't know this. This book is very interesting, Salvatore,". That very special night, I got the pleasure of witnessing Mimmo become a papa.

Fast forward to a couple of months later. We are in the NICU at Children's Hospital and Mimmo is reading "Stelle" to Salvatore once more. This time we are all, in fact, it seems in outerspace. Salvatore is hooked up to all these machines, "my rocket boy" as I called him. And, as we read to him, we'd already heard the devastating news from our family meeting. There is no brain activity. And, that will never change. He's breathing only because of the machines. And, even though he could wrap his fingers around my finger, it's just "brain stem function" the Drs., the nurses, & my family tell me. Mimmo and I say that we need time to be with our son. This is our time.

Mimmo gets to the part about the Mayans in the book:

I Maya

Nell'America centrale,
circa mille anni fa,
un antico popolo contemplava il cielo da citta
consruite come veri e propri osservatori astronomici.
I Maya credevano che dopo la morte
tutti sarebbero rinati sotto forma
di stelle!

The Mayans

In Central America,
around 1000 years ago,
an ancient people contemplated the sky from
their city where they'd built real astronomical observatories.
The Mayans believed that after death
everyone would be reborn in the form
of a star!

"And, that's what papa hopes that you will be, Salvatore. A star. Shining brightly. That we can look to at night and you will guide us,"

The next day (or the day after or the day after that...it's all such a blur), Mimmo & I woke up to plan our son's release from the machines. We wanted him to be outdoors, not in that stuffy hospital room anymore. We wanted to say a few words, but we didn't want a priest there. We wanted Alice to play her guitar and sing the beautiful song that she sang to Salvatore when she visited him at the NICU. We wanted Vega to read the part in the Stelle book in Italiano and Leila to read the translation in English. Jen had left her "Life Prayers" book and earmarked a few passages for us. I was so turned off by "God" or religion at this point, but I read one of the dog-eared passages and it seemed something that Salvatore could have said himself:

When I die if you need to weep
Cry for your brother or sister
Walking the street beside you
And when you need me put your arms around anyone
And give them what you need to give me.

I want to leave you something
Something better than words or sounds.

Look for me in the people I've known or loved
And if you cannot give me away
At least let me live in your eyes and not in your mind.

You can love me most by letting hands touch hands
By letting bodies touch bodies
And by letting go of children that need to be free.

Love doesn't die, people do
So when all that's left of me is love
Give me away

-Anonymous

We were planning our son's death. We were planning his release. We were planning a ceremony as we felt it was a rite needed to be marked in the most special and gentle of ways. There was only one quote that seemed to be missing...

When we went to the island of Procida one time, I had picked up a sugar packet from the bar near the port. When I turned it over, there was this quote by Bob Marley. I read it to Mimmo and we both loved it. I had tucked it away in my wallet all this time. A few days before Salvatore was born, my wallet was stolen. Mimmo and I tried with all our might to remember, piece together the quote. "Let's call the bar on Procida," Antonio, Mimmo's brother suggested. So, there we were, calling Italy to try to find a quote by Bob Marley (in Italian!) on a sugar packet to read to our son as we took him off of life support. The bar was closed for the season.

Then, like a lightbulb going off in my head, I was like DUH, the internet. We found the quote. It's strange because with all the googling I did in its many different forms, I could never find this quote in English. I don't know if it's from a song, I don't know if it's something he said in an interview, but it became the last words that we said to Salvatore before we let him go...

Because, besides the fact that he will always be our star, we still (even through all of this) want so much to believe in something.

Grrrrr....

I was going to start a different post here, but I'm so ANGRY.....

GRRRRRRRR

It is month 5 and it felt like when the clock struck midnight, entering into this month, all my anger and rage decided to bubble forth and spew....

I'm mad at people that don't get it.
I'm mad at Mimmo.
I'm mad at God.
I'm mad at myself.

I'm mad that Salvatore is not here.
I'm mad that I was never parented, myself.
I'm mad that Mimmo and I have wanted our whole lives to be a mamma and a papa
and it seems like such a cruel joke.

I'm mad that I'm left standing on this new road
and I don't know where to go.

I'm mad that besides the sheer weight of dealing with life without Salvatore
we also have to deal with money problems, finding work, Mimmo's lengthy
immigration process, living in a society where we are all so insular from one another.

I'm mad that I'm mad.

I'm mad that I have these bad dreams that never seem to give me a break from the reality.
They just seem to (well, at least in THIS moment) make me more MAD.

I'm mad that I will never get to rock Salvatore as I wanted to rock him today.
Turning on the ignition, "Let it Be" came on the radio.
I wanted to be looking in the rear view mirror at my boo,
And, sing out the lyrics to him.
Smile and Dance.
Instead, like the mother of a dead baby,
I just sang and cried.
Wishing he was here.
Mad because he never will be.

I am mad that there are people who are parents
that hurt their children
and get away with it
and their children somehow miraculously grow up
to be okay in the world
and when its their turn to become parents
they aren't given that right

Yes, I'm mad that while I am mourning the death of my son
My father is on television, out there in the world,
He, who brought so much destruction and hurt to his wife and his two daughters
gets to live and thrive in our society?
While my beautiful innocent son died?
Where's the justice in that?

God, I'm mad, that as a little girl
all I did was pray to you to make me good
because I thought I was doing something
bad for all these bad things to be happening to me
I'm mad that I still, at times, think this now
At 33
Even when I know better
Even when I know I did nothing wrong
I still want answers to why we must suffer

I'm mad that there's no answers
and just more questions
I'm mad that I can't wave a magic wand
and make it all go away
for us all.

I'm mad that you're not listening to me.

I'm mad that when we went yesterday
to Salvatore's grave
there was all this new green growth on
his patch of land.
That the landscape had changed so much.
It seemed that Spring had arrived
And, it seemed a cruel reminder
that life goes on...
Even when you don't want it to
because you should be watching your son grow
not the grass on his grave.

I'm mad that I have to write this.

What do you do with your anger?

What do you do when you're mad???


,

September 17, 2008 or How We Spent My 33rd Birthday

The day before my 33rd birthday, I met my friend Kisha for tea. It was long overdue. We had been taking a small business class together that we both ended up dropping - she, because she had just gotten into graduate school and me, because my midwife and my body had both told me that it was time to slow down. We had missed each other, so, after much back and forth with our schedules, we settled down on a cozy teahouse on a sunny Sunday and got to finally sit with each other, sip, and spew.

I told her that I was turning 33 the next day.

"Wow, 33, huh?! Girl, you are going into your Jesus year!,"

I'd never heard about this, but K went on to explain how 33 is the year when Jesus died. How 33 was the "bearing your cross" type of year. How Jesus did basically most of whatever it was he did in his last year (oh, & let's not forget - was crucified, ha ha). I didn't like the sound of this. Surely, she got it all wrong on me though. 33 was supposed to be my year of being a glowin' first-time mamma.

I wasn't having any of this Jesus year crap. So, that morning I was projecting the easiest, most peaceful birthday ever. Mimmo and I headed down the coast on Highway One to Half Moon Bay for the day.

It wasn't sunny on the coast ride down, but it was beautiful. We stopped along the side of the road where the artists were setting up easels. When we pulled into Half Moon Bay, I could not wait to introduce Mimmo to my favorite Sushi restaurant in the world. The waitress was one I had never had before. An older Japanese woman who was quite the eccentric. After everything she said, she would have to add "because she's pregnant"...like "yes, this, this, & this are cooked," then she'd wink at Mimmo "because she's pregnant". She told Mimmo that he should have me sitting on the outside "because she's pregnant". I wasn't just pregnant. I was a whale at this point.

We walked around the main street and were treated like locals. "When's that baby coming?," total strangers would ask me on the street, in the restaurant, in the shops. "Any moment now," I would smile. "You have to come back after he's born so we can all see him!," said one of the shopkeepers. "Oh, we will!,". At one point, a young Vietnamese women, who was also pregnant ("la tua compagna," Mimmo would point out whenever he'd see another pregnant women) stopped me so excitedly. "When's your baby coming?," she asked. "Soon," I said. "Me too," she said. "I'm so scared.," "Why?," I asked. "The pain!," she said, like DUH. "Oh, it's going to be alright," I told her. I touched her belly and she touched mine.

I didn't want a birthday present this year. I wanted to get something for Salvatore. We stopped inside a store that sold mostly sea-themed gifts. It was there that I found Salvatore's book. A beautifully written and illustrated lullaby by John Denver that told the story of a Dolphin's birth. I starting crying as I read it, it was so beautiful. "And, you're coming so soon, boo,". We made our way to the beach, parked the car, and Mimmo started heading down the sand dunes while I answered my cell. It was my cousin, Vassi, wishing me a Happy Birthday. While we were talking, I made my way from the car to the top of the sand dunes. "Oh, my god, Vass!,"


There were birds everywhere. They covered the beach and covered the sky. People were gathered, taking pictures, laughing. I had never seen so many birds in my whole life. "Can you receive pictures on your cell?," I asked Vassi. "Yes. Send them to me! I want to see," she pleaded from Brooklyn. I burrowed myself in the sand, like a sea lion preparing to give birth, and snapped away. These pictures don't even do justice.

Mimmo and I sat and just took it all in. The sun was getting ready to set and I wanted to go to a special place I had found one time with J. It was called Redondo Beach, which I found amusing the first time I had passed the sign. Redondo Beach was the place in Southern California where I was born and spent my first 6 months of life. My mom spoke often of how that summer before I was born, she went to the beach everyday "That's why you love the ocean so much," she mused.

Mimmo and I hiked down, not an easy feat with Salvatore in tow in my tummy. I remember a part that was so windy, narrow, & steep, I hugged every part of the earth to make my way down. It was well-worth the journey, though! When we did arrive on sand, we found ourselves a lovely, secluded spot to watch the sunset. We read Salvatore the dolphin book together and listened to the accompanying cd, Mimmo with one earphone, I with the other. We both teared up.

The next day, I sent an email to all our closest friends and family from our day. I joked that I was sharing the last photos of my very pregnant belly and Salvatore's parents before he came into the world.

Later that night, I went into labor. Salvatore was born 2 days after my 33rd birthday.

Constant Motion

Rough night last night.

I found a blog that is dedicated to Miscarriage, Stillbirth, & Infant Loss

http://babylossdirectory.blogspot.com/

A wonderful resource, but it was just heartbreaking to see the huge number of blogs out there of women who are mourning their babies. It should in some way I guess, make me feel comforted by the fact that I'm not alone. But, it doesn't at all. Instead, it makes me sad and angry that so many people have to go through this. And, to look at this blog directory and see this HUGE list of blogs...split up by catergories:

Personal Blogs: Miscarriage and Other Losses up to 20 wks
Personal Blogs: Stillbirth and Other Losses 20 wks to term
Personal Blogs: Medical Termination
Personal Blogs: Loss at Birth and Beyond
Personal Blogs: Multiple Losses

Multiple losses. Oy. Yes, I read a women's blog who had suffered multiple miscarriages, then the death of her baby son, Thomas (sounded like a similar story to Salvatore's), failed infertility treatments, and most recently she got pregnant with twins and lost them at 12 weeks. And, she is an amazing writer and obviously, human being, to still be showing up in life and trying to heal. I'm pissed off that any human being should have to go through all that.

Before this happened, I didn't even know that infant death really existed. I knew of people who had lost their baby to some type of birth defects. But, I had such a healthy pregnancy. Besides the first trimester, when I did have a bit of spotting and the Italian doc put me on progesterone and sentenced me to bed rest. That was my one and only scare. The rest of my pregnancy was pretty smooth sailing. I never even suffered from morning sickness (a.k.a. "all day sickness" as I've heard). I was mostly just exhausted. Then into my second trimester is when I got heartburn so often. My mother in-law was like "You're so lucky. Heartburn is nothing. Imagine vomiting ALL the time". She told me that when she was pregnant with Mimmo she couldn't eat or even pass by the butcher's shop without throwing up and the only thing she could keep down was LEMON. Yes, she just ate lemons. And, Mimmo popped out at over 9 lbs.

Salvatore was a constant kicker. He was always in motion. When I'd ask him politely to take it down a notch, buddy so I could go to sleep, Mimmo would put his hand on my tummy and say "Salvatore, give Mamma a rest, ok?,". When we got the ultrasound after arriving in California, he was flopping about so much that the ultrasound tech, who I could tell was a bit frustrated because she was trying to get accurate measurements, said "He's an active one, eh?," "Yes, he is.," I said, already feeling a bit like an apologetic mom when her overactive kid is touching everything in the store. Because Mimmo was one of those boys who was always running around, getting scraped up from this and that (he still somehow manages to do this somehow) and causing (according to his mamma) nothing but trouble, we joked that of course I would have Mimmo's son. Me, the girl who was such a "scaredy cat" and always careful and conscientious as a child marries the bad boy, the "sgrinato" as they called him to then produce our shining bubba, Salvatore, already gleaning himself as a soccer player by practicing those kicks constantly in his mamma's tummy.

Salvatore and I were always on the go from day one. Even when he decided to start growing in my womb (unbeknowst to me), we were on a transatlantic flight from San Francisco to Naples. While we were in Italy, we moved house once. I was working all over Naples teaching in different schools and homes. We drove, took trains & busses. We went to visit Nora in Rome a couple of times and also went to a yoga retreat in Umbria in a gorgeous ancient villa. I distinctly remember this being the first time that I felt his movements. I was in some yoga pose and it literally felt like he did a backflip. "You like yoga, huh?," This was before I knew he was my Salvatore, and not my Sofia as I thought.

We even took a few rides out on the sailboat together. Yes, Salvatore visited the island of Procida several times. We walked around Lake Averno and swam near Aquamorta. We took a transatlantic flight from Rome to Canada, this time at 6 months and luckily with the best legroom in the economy seating house (we were next to the emergency exit). Then Canada to San Francisco and yay, we'd arrived in California! We spent a blissful day on the bay with our friends and family, Mimmo & I getting married for the 3rd time and Salvatore, this time showing up for the ceremony and festivities.

3 months before his birth, we were still all over the place. Housesitting here and there. Salvatore & I also went down to L.A. to audition for that karaoke show (what was it called? The one with Joey Fatone? Is it even still on?) and we made it to the final cut. When the casting lady asked me on tape what I did for a living, I said proudly that I was preparing to be mamma to future world champ soccer player, Salvatore Russo who was always, even in THIS moment practicing those kicks, mammamia. We went to San Francisco twice a week to take our small business course and then in August, a month before he was to come out into the world, Salvatore decided that he wanted to teach Shakespeare. So, we did that for a couple of weeks with SF Shakes, teaching Voice & Movement to kids 7-13 and directing them in "Comedy of Errors". I couldn't exactly have the kids "feel my diaphram", let alone see it when we did breathing exercises, but we did our best and Salvatore really enjoyed teaching stage combat. That was his highlight. When we finished SF Shakes, we had finally found a home (one up to Salvatore's standards. It only took us oh, a month and a half!) and I started nesting. When we had our baby shower, everybody was so impressed by Salvatore's style. "What a stylish baby!," Green was his favorite color.

Salvatore, Mimmo, & I took hypnobirthing classes together and childbirth prep classes. We took the Alta Bates Hospital tour and were impressed. We read books, articles, watched birthing videos and scoured the internet for even more info. Everytime we went in for a check-up and listened to the heartbeat, Toby, my midwife would say "Strong!,". "Yep, he's ready to come out soon," she said towards the end, when it seemed that his heartbeat was already louder than mine. Salvatore was already in position, head down, about a month before he was born. I had a hard time walking from all that weight and pelvic pressure and thought, oh great, OF COURSE you'd have to have a big head now too, wouldn't you (no fault of mine or Mimmo's of course :-) Family & friend began speculating that he'd come out early and women would say "Aren't you soo ready for him to be OUT at this point. Uh, I remember feeling like I just wanted him/her out of my body already,". I didn't feel that way. I enjoyed having Salvatore inside me. I, of course, wanted to see him, but I also...I don't know... wanted him to come out when he was ready. I also felt like I wanted to have things more prepared. We'd just moved, afterall, & I was still sorting out everything. I did wash all his clothes and blankets and got them set up in his mini-dresser. We got the co-sleeper that Mac & Laura lent us and set it up next to the bed. Mimmo put together the IKEA changing table and it fit perfectly in the bathroom. My Thea Ioanna had lent us one of those swings and a very cool baby bassinet. And, we got his green Peg Perego car seat all hooked up. Ok, it was feeling a little bit more real. I was feeling, I guess a bit more prepared (but, it'd still be ok if he decided to come later and give me even more time). Nothing, of course, would have prepared me for what happened. Which is another story for another time.

I'm glad I have these memories though, boo, of you being inside me. 9 months, after all is a pretty long time we shared together. More than the 10 days when you were out in the world.

I miss you, bubba. So so much.

Mon. Nov. 12th at 4 in the Morning

Fading soon into sleep
I took an ambien
I felt tonight how you are with me
How you will always be with me
This is where we never see...
These moments...
The pictures from our lifetime
And, yet, this is life...
The unknown
The pursuit of our true self...
our true path

You taught me so much
about love, my sweet boy...
And continue to teach me about life
in your death
You, my beautiful sun/soul/shining star
Shall we meet tonight in our dreams?
Shall we sail upon the sea or the silver moon?
Will you pick me up - let me ride on your wings?
You were 2 - body & spirit
You were...

That night when I began to let you go
It was like giving birth again
I had to breathe deep
Open myself
Drink water
Let go...
I let go of you even as I held you in my arms

You died in my arms, oh my sweet boy

And I still have the line upon my belly...
even almost 2 months after you left my womb
Even 6 weeks after your death
The line still lives
Reminds me that here we were,
We shared my body
And, I loved having you inside me

In all this sorrow
You brought me so much joy,
My love,
My sweet, sweet dove

That day in Half Moon Bay
Thea J said, those birds,
they were already coming for you

They don't tell you in those
childbirth classes...
They don't tell you
That your baby could die

That you could do everything
"Right"
That with each contraction,
You could say
"I love you, Salvatore"
To get through the pain
To push real hard
And, that he would flop out,
Limp

No heartbeat for 9 minutes.

Cafe Mariposa a.k.a. My Cocoon

About a week after we buried Salvatore, Mimmo and I took off to Mendocino. We didn't know where we were going. I remember waking up that particular morning and, not able to bear being in our apartment a minute longer, said "Let's get the hell OUT of here!," We took off in the car. We were on 80 and I spoke to Leila briefly on the phone. "I don't know where we're going. Only that I can't be here and we're in the car and we're heading north. I'm sooo angry, Lei!"

So we headed up to Sonoma, cut through the Russian River, made our way to the mouth of the Pacific Ocean and continued heading up beautiful Highway One. We cursed and we cried. We argued and we stopped along the road to sit, to scream, and to hold each other.

We were driving through this one section of forest. So beautiful and so green. Yet, all this greenery, all this beauty, all this "getting away" still could not heal this gigantic hole that was in our hearts. "It's so beautiful," I tried. "Yes, it is," Mimmo said, "But, he should be here. He should be here, seeing this with us,". Mimmo was angry in this moment. I was sorrowful. We held these two sides of grief, not knowing that this was the path we would be travelling together for quite some time. I tried to hold on, as I continue to try, to find some sense of the positive in the situation. So, as we passed through this symphony of great, grand trees, Mimmo's word echoed in my mind. I wanted to believe that Salvatore WAS with us in this moment. That he was seeing all this with us. I thought, well, I'm a lucky girl because I can feel all this love that's being directed towards us in this moment. We have so many people who are holding us in their thoughts and in their love. And, I looked at Mimmo, grabbed his hand and said "I love you,". Yes, we were in this horrible ride together, but we were, "a punto," as Mimmo would say, in it, together, at least.

Somehow, in this short journey, I discovered another positive thing that would lead me home. Somewhere in Mendocino, I read an article that mentioned Cafe Mariposa, which was a gluten-free bakery in Oakland. When we got home, I got on-line and googled them. No way! They were located right down the street from us on 55th and Telegraph. I made my way down there and found this hidden treasure, because Cafe Mariposa was not an easy find! They were located in an Art Deco building off of Telegraph, but the actual site was towards the back of the building, next to a Volvo car repair shop and another hidden treasure called The Wine Mine. There were little orange butterflies stamped into the concrete that led me up to the door. I stepped in and was transported to gluten-free heaven.

Cafe Mariposa had fresh-baked gluten-free muffins, cookies, coffeecake, pumpkin bread, biscotti & brownies. My jaw dropped. "Really?! All gluten-free?" "Yep, all gluten-free," responded the owner, Patti. "Oh, my god. I don't know where to start. I want to eat your entire store,".

Cafe Mariposa from that day became my one and only stop shop. I wasn't getting out in the world much, but when I did leave our apartment, I was probably at Cafe Mariposa. I met friends here, a healer here, brought my mom and my sister here, and spent much time alone. When Mimmo left for Italy, I came often by myself, got my regular "morning muffin", a nourishing carrot/apple/raisin muffin that made me feel well cared for and healthy (even if it's probably not ALL that healthy) and wrote in my journal. I would go there after therapy. I would go there to read "Creative Acts of Healing (after a baby dies)" that Tsilli sent me. I would go there after I had waddled my way around Lake Temescal with my cane. Cafe Mariposa was an all-embracing mamma that held me and rocked me, rewarded me, and nourished me with all kinds of gluten-free LOVE. I was lucky to have found one place that provided me much comfort in my very uncomfortable new world.

In January, when I began my job searching, I came across a craigslist ad for help in a gluten-free bakery. I clicked on it and, indeed, Cafe Mariposa, was hiring. The posting was a bit old though, as Mimmo and I had just gotten back from Hawaii and it had been posted while we were away. I enlisted Leila to come with me that Saturday while she was in town to get some yummies and the scoop on the job situation. It was the new year and my first Saturday there and Cafe Mariposa was PACKED. There was a man working the counter who seemed pretty overwhelmed and one of the bakers who was taking the multitude of espresso drink orders. Not a good time to talk, I thought, but I started with

"Wow, you guys are *really busy*,".
"Yeah," he said.
"I saw an ad in craigslist and wanted to know are you still hiring?"
"Oh, actually we *just* hired someone," he said.
"Oh," well it was worth a shot.
"But, you should talk to Patti, 'cuz you never know...we might need extra help on the weekends"

Patti came in during the rush with her two young daughters and the overwhelmed man (who ended up being her husband) pointed me out and we chatted for a bit. She reiterated what Jason had told me, but encouraged me to drop off a resume if I liked, "Cuz, you never know," she said.

I ended up going for a job interview that week that seemed a shoo-in. The owner liked me, it was through a friend of a friend, all things seemed a-go, and then much to my suprise, she ended up picking the other candidate. I started combing through craigslist and sending out my resume in mass. I decided, in my pro-active mode, to drop off a resume at Cafe Mariposa, even though....

When I came in, I spoke with Patti. We ended up talking about all sorts of things. I told her about Hawaii. And, how we had wanted to open up a business in the neighborhood. I told her about Salvatore and these past few months and that I was just easing myself back into the work force. Patti was compassionate and connected. She listened, asked questions, and even gave me some business advice. She told me, a bit apologetically, that they did just hire someone. I watched the new girl being trained in the background as she spoke. But, there was a possibility that they'd need someone to do bookkeeping once a week. "Would you be interested?," she asked. I told her that I needed something more than a day a week, but that if I found another part-time job, that I might be open to that.

The next week, I dropped Mimmo off in Alameda and stopped off at Cafe Mariposa on my way back home. As I was ordering my morning muffin, I saw Patti's head pop-up through the window and soon after she, and a curly-haired young woman named Dana, approached me like giggling girlfriends. They explained that Aviva, who normally worked in the Cafe had just broke her wrist and sprained the other one in a snowboarding accident and that she was going to, obviously, be unable to work in the cafe. Would I be interested? I had some interviews lined up during the week. They were for part-time jobs. Hmmm, the pay wasn't going to be enough to sustain me, "but, good people and lots of free and discounted gluten-free food," added Patti & Dana, enthusiatically. The job seemed pretty open as they weren't sure when Aviva would be back. And, how could I not want to work at Cafe Mariposa, really?! So, I said yes.

I've been at Cafe Mariposa for a little over a month now. It's been the one steady in the neverending stream of changes and transitions that have followed me in the past month. It's gotten me to be out there in the world, dealing with customers, and forging new relationships with some very kind and extraordinary people I work with. It's also given me gluten-free pizza, bread, cookies, & coconut lemon squares on Monday, Friday, and Saturday. And, I get to see the look on the face of a new customer, who just like me, comes in with awed eyes and dropped jaw.

"Really?! Everything's gluten-free?,"
"It's ALL gluten-free," I say with a smile.
"Oh my god. I think I'm going to cry,"
"Yeah, I know how you feel."

Comments, Curves, & Cafe Mariposa

Ok, I did it. Got the first post out and today is a new day. I felt quite compelled last night to just start writing, already, damn it. But, was also scared of what I was saying, how it would be perceived, putting out there truthfully where I'm at, etc. I wanted to thank you guys who left comments and who have sent me e-mails. I know that leaving comments on blogs is not the style for all (me included, at times), but I did want to encourage you to leave them if you feel compelled. Some of the e-mails that I've received are quite touching and I feel like whatever the hell I'm trying to do here is heal in some way and that, perhaps, for others who read this and write their own thoughts as well, it will be healing for us all. Again, no pressure. But, I just wanted to say that I'm putting this out there, so feel free to put yourself out there as well, if you like. I know I'm not the only one going through it right now.

Moving on to the the 2nd C of the day...

Curves.

Yes, I've joined Curves.

One of my New Year's resolutions was to try and get my body back in shape. I'm still a little less than 20 lbs. over my pre-pregnancy weight, and depression, coupled with a life-long sweet tooth, has made it challenging to try and shed these extra pounds. So, my plan of attack in the New Year was to try all the gyms that offered free week or day passes to at least begin to get some exercise while I'm pretty much broke with a capital B (I meant to write). Curves was the first of the lot. For those of you who don't know, it's a 30-minute circuit training that's just for the ladies. They have mad 80's beats going on which I adore. Yes, it does have a bit of an 80's aerobic feel to it mixed with an Oprah Winfrey attitude. There are Oprah-ish affirmations everywhere, daily "word scrambles" on the board to unscramble while you work out. But, I'm digging Curves. It's just about what I need right now in an exercise program and another world to dip in and visit every once in a while. And, believe me, it is another world.

You go around in a circle 2x (makes 30 min.) and for the tougher ones, sometimes 3 or 4 times. Being the overachiever that I am, I did it 3x the first go. Then I felt the burn the next day. Remembering how being an overachiever for me also means sometimes, early burn-out, I have decided to take it slow and just do the recommended 30min. workout 3x week. Last week there was another overachiever making the rounds and Sarah, the owner, was trying to talk her into taking it down a notch, as she was breathing so heavy and not able to talk normally. The girl was determined though. Sarah explained that you don't want your heartrate to go up too high, because then you're not burning fat. I usually come in, do my workout quietly, and leave just as quietly, but I wanted to ask her some questions about this, so I opened my mouth. Opening my mouth, as I'm learning, is opening up to the world again.

She started asking me all kinds of questions about my workout before. I told her how I had done pilates, yoga, ran (off & on), walked, swam...

"When?," she asked.
"On and off, over the last 5 years, I 'd say,".
"Well, what about more recently before you came to Curves?,"
"Um, well, I was pregnant before. So, well, I did do some yoga, walking. More toward the end I wasn't doing so much,"
"Congratulations!," the overachiever responded, "That's exciting,"

I smiled slightly, not feeling like I wanted to explain and just got to the next "station" to do bicep curls. She continued.

"Well, your upper body strength must be really strong now. Carrying the baby and all.," she continued, waiting for more than the half-smile I offered before.

I took a breath and said "Um, well, actually, I um, lost my son shortly after childbirth...,"
"Oh...I'm so sorry...God, I'm so nosy...,"
"No," I said, "I mean.." I just shrugged my shoulders.
"That's go to be the hardest thing," she said.
"Yeah. Well, that's why this has been good for me. You know, physically, but also psychologically. To get back in my body..."
I was trying to be the model mamma who lost her baby and not the freak that I felt like whenever this comes up.
'I'm sorry," she said, again.
"Thank you"

As soon as I finished my workout, I said goodbye to her and Sarah and got out of there as quick as I could. I started bawling as soon as I hit the parking lot.

The next day I received a card in the mail from Curves. I figured it was more promotional junk. Instead was a card. On the outside it said:

"She surrounded herself with people who said "You Can".

Inside was a personal note from the owner saying how she was touched
by hearing me tell someone how I had lost my son after childbirth and
how she wanted to say that they care about me. "We love you," she
said.

I *heart* Curves.

Ok, I was going to get to my next favorite place, Cafe Mariposa, but I've literally got to get myself there now (I'm late for work!). So more on the third C later...

For, now, you can take a look at my heaven...

http://mariposabaking.com

How many times?

Here, we go.

Another damn blog.

I tried many different titles with "time", but they were all taken:

itstime.blogspot.com
itsabouttime.blogspot.com
whattimeisit.blogspot.com

So, I thought to try the beginning to one of my favorite quotes:

"Time is a tease. Time is a tease because everything happens in its own time" - Andre Breton

Ain't that the f$%&!@#kin' truth.

So, here I am and what time is it? It's time to start writing my way through this process. It's not gonna be pretty and it's not gonna be perfect. I don't know how witty I can make this or even interesting. I can only say that it's truth I'm seeking and I need to tell it like it is. I simply can't get through this time without expressing myself any longer because I feel I'm about ready to burst.

So, let's start now. Let's start on time.

It's been 5 months since Salvatore's birthday. Almost 5 months since he passed away. There's nothing I can say (not yet, anyway) to explain or understand how I've even gotten to today.

Today I received an email from my old boss in Italy. The subject read: back when? He basically asked me when I was coming back to Naples. I responded as follows:

Hi Carlos,

This is my new e-mail. Just got your message. I am in America. Our
son, Salvatore was born in Sept. and suffered complications at birth
and died 10 days later. I am still recuperating here and don't know
yet when/if we'll be returning to Italy. Am trying to take care and
get through this difficult time.

I will be in contact if/when I return.

Best,
Angelisa

He responded by telling me how sorry he was to hear this news and also shared with me how last year he was operated on for a brain tumor. We've never met, Carlos & I, because he's in Milan and I was contracted to work in Naples. Our relationship was strictly telephone, text messages & e-mail kinda deal. And, here we were again, but this time sharing very intimate details of our life through e-mail. He went on to tell me how "Our Lady" had been beside him throughout, how he's "sure God will give you the grace to bear this burden and that He will give you all the happiness you deserve,". And he shared with me that last week his father "dropped dead from a heart attack. He was 81 and in excellent health,". I wrote him back to thank him for his kind e-mail and express how sorry I was to hear about his father. I have no room in my life anymore for platitudes, so that's about all I could write. I told him I'd be in contact if/when I returned to Italy and sent him some pictures of Salvatore.





I decided to finally respond to another email that was sent by my other old bosses in Pozzuoli, Stephania and Antonella. They had sent an email to my old address asking me how I was, if I was still in America and that they wanted to hear my news. I just hadn't been able to gather myself up properly to respond to them before. How does one deliver the news that their baby has died? There's really no protocol, I'm learning. Since, I had just responded to Carlos' email, I figured it was as good of time as any. I basically copied my e-mail to Carlos, except I sent it in Italian. I also decided to send a couple of pictures to them of Salvatore. While I was doing this, my cell phone rang. I didn't respond as I didn't recognize the number. After I sent off the e-mail, I checked my message.

"Hi Angelisa, this is Rachel calling - Rachel who did your belly cast - and I'm calling to ask you a question. I'm just wondering how you're doing. I'm sure you have your hands full with motherhood, but I'm actually just about to launch my website for my little side business and I have a photo of you that I would love to use on my site and would just like your permission to be able to use it....,"

At this point, I just wanted to shake my hands up to the sky and say "Could you gimme a break, please?!,"

But, I figured, well I've just sent off these 2 e-mails. I'm on a roll here it seems. So, I called Rachel back. I told her how we lost Salvatore. I also told her how grateful I was that I did the belly casting as I have this special memento of his life and our shared life together. She was kind, and, as is normal, at a loss for words. I told her that I would be willing to let her use the photos. She was hesitant and told me that she'd send them to me and that only if I felt comfortable and was 100% okay with it, she would post them on her site. She sent them to me and I had to smile. I was so big at the time and about ready to pop. Even after all that's happened. I can still remember a happy moment.

That was a happy moment.


I told her I would be happy and honored to have the photo on her website.