Birth Stories

NEW LIFE - Daughter May 14th, 2003 6 lbs 4 oz

Fatima Aisha

I remember waiting for each and every prenatal visit, eagerly.
I loved going to the doctors to have them measure and feel and tell
me how much I've gained and how well me and baby were doing. I
especially loved hearing her little heart beat.

Everynight I'd wonder how beautiful and smart my daughter would be.
Also worried I wouldn't live up to being a good mother. Or a better
mother.

My due date was May 7th, 2003. That day had passed and I was getting
impatient. I wanted to meet my Princess. So, I had a check-up scheduled
for a possible induced labor. Which I was dreading and fearing.
Funny how nature takes its course when it feels like it because it felt
like beating the Doc's to it.

May 14th, early morning...oh, I'd say around 5AM I started having pains.
My (then) husband was sound asleep. Swear to goodness- a battle could
be passing right over him and he wouldn't wake. So I decided to wait
as long as I could for him to wake himself.

I sat in bed for a little. Excited but SCARED! Then I went into the
living room and sat on the couch for a little bit. Biting my lower lip
every miniscule contraction. As I sat on the couch my kitty Lilo came
over and sat on my lap. Or, more on top of baby. I think she was able
to feel that I was in pain. So I stroked her fur and enjoyed her comfort.
Not too long after I decided to wake him.
He was up in a jiffy and getting ready.

My appointment that day was at 11am. I kept telling him I wanted to wait
until the appointment but I was also scared that the baby would plop
out any second. So at 9AM we caught a cab and headed towards the hospital.
God, that was a long day.

They had me sit in bed with all them wires and thingys strapped to my belly
and arm. What killed me the most was when they told me I couldn't eat
anything.

Sure enough, the contractions were getting stronger. Me- more scared.
Whenever the contractions got stronger I thought, "Ok, this is painful.
I think I'm ready to start pushing. They're painful enough, they can't
get any worse."

Boy, was I wrong.

Uuugh! What made me really start panicking was when they inserted that
long hook and burst my water for me. When I felt the trickle and flow
I started crying and shaking and felt so cold. And I couldn't stop trembling.
My whole body trembled.

When it got time to push, I can't remember too clearly but I know I was crying
out loud and squeezing the sweat and blood outta' my (then) husbands hand.
He stood there next to me, wide eyed and silent. Woulda' laughed but
I was in too much pain.

This nurse with a deep, heavy African accent was there, "Breathe, Iris,
Breathe!"
1 2 3 PUSH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 10!

I wasn't breathing right so they put the oxygen mask on me.
It made it worse, so I thought. I couldn't breathe at all with that
thing on my face. They put something in my IV, instead of the epidural.
WELL, I still felt ALL the pain but I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I just kept telling myself, "No more kids. Let this be over. I promise
no more kids, just please hurry this up!"

I pushed for maybe a good 30 minutes, I'd say. Then, her head was out.
They yelled at me to stop pushing while they checked her and everything.
I waited.

5PM- Last push!!!! And there she was. Covered but yet so beautiful. My baby,
I finally saw and met my baby. They took her to the table and cleaned her
up. As soon as she was out, I forced my eyes open and kept them on her.
I felt EXHAUSTED!!! I kept asking if she was ok. Why hadn't they handed
her to me immediately? I was worried because I hadn't heard her cry.
But when her tiny, sweet voice let everyone know she was finally in this
world I started to cry. I was so happy.

I held her in my arms and it was just so precious. SO beautiful.
Her pink face and head full of hair. God! She was beautiful. And still is.
I didn't want them to take her away. I wanted to hold her and never let
go. And it felt like eternity when they would take her away for testing or
baths or whatnot. I couldn't sleep, waiting for her to come back.
She's the light of my life. And very smart and very beautiful.
I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her. She keeps me sane.
She keeps me loved.
---------------------------------------------------------------
New Life - Son March 24th, 2006 6 lbs 7 oz

Hayden Alexander

"Second time around, it's easier and faster." Faster, yes. Easier...
I wouldn't say so. I'd even say it was more painful.
That boy was two days late but when he was ready to come out,
he sure let me know.

March 23rd, late morning I started with the pains. I went to work with
my mom and my daughter. My mom was a Nanny and she would bring my
daughter with her to play with the younger child, who had become
like a brother to Fatima.

I walked around. Sat around. Walked some more. I was avoiding going to
the hospital too early to just sit in a bed again. The pain
eased up everytime I walked. And late afternoon I thought it was false
labor because I was hardly hurting anymore.

But when I got home, later that night it got worse. Each and every contraction
was immense. Breaks in between were short. Pain durations were getting longer.
Biting down on my lower lip wasn't helping.

My mom would keep telling me to breathe. I tried but I felt like I was
about to explode. SO, around 10PM we called our dear friend, Bonnie,
and she came over to pick me up and take me to the hospital.
It's funny though, because on the way to the hospital I wasn't hurting
much.

Got to the hospital, got strapped and IVed, checked and hooked again.
My prenatal doctor was there and he was the BEST!

I watched King of The Hill while gripping the side bars on the bed
for every contraction. I'm sure I could've yanked them right off. Around
11AM he checked my progress and told us, Bonnie stayed with me, that
within 3 hours the baby would be ready to come out.

We waited those three hours watching back to back King of the Hill.
I wanted to call my baby's father so bad to be there by my side. SO
he would be able to see his first baby born. But I restrained myself
because I felt like he didn't deserve to be there after what he did.

Doctors came back 3 hours later and checked me. I couldn't stand it
anymore and started pushing. DR started gathering all the supplies
and instruments and gloves and smock. He kept telling me to "Hold on!
Hold on!" All I could think was, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, 'HOLD ON'
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET THIS BABY OUT OF MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I had even made a promise to myself to never, ever EVER get pregnant
again!

The pain was killer. Dieing probably felt sweet compared to it.
Didn't take too many pushes and in no time at all, around 1:30AM, my
Prince was born.

He looked purple. And he was silent. I waited. And waited. He cried out
and I lay my head back on the pillow. When they handed him to me he felt
so warm.

I knew he was a strong boy. I knew he would be fine. I rested. And I waited.
From the moment he was born I could feel his masculinity. I knew he
would be GREAT and strong and kind hearted. He is wonderful!
And he takes care of his two girls very well.
He keeps us safe.

R.I.P. Tristan Rain

Monday, June 9th, 2008 Baby Tristan Rain was lost.
I started bleeding HEAVILY late morning, so after I had spoken to the doctor over the phone I decided to go to the ER. And with much proding from Chris.
On my birthday I had already gone to the ER for medical attention and for the same reasons only for "them", the PRO'S, to tell me it was a Threatened Miscarriage. Not to mention a whole days worth wasted - ON MY BIRTHDAY!

But with blood clots the size of a kumquat (and growing) I thought it was more of an urgent matter this time. I arrived at the hospital....oh, I'd say around 2pm. I know they discharged me sometime not too long after 10pm.


As I sat in the waiting room I feaed standing up for whatever reason- going to the bathroom, getting a snack at the vending machine or a cup of coffee. At first I didn't take note of it but as I noticed the pattern I tried keeping myself entertained texting as much as possible. Anxious and nervous because I was running out of underwear to change into. I had packed 3 pairs of underwear and brought my whole package of pads. What I hadn't packed was extra pants but luckily that day I was wearing my dark coloured jeans. So, yes, everytime I stood up a gushing Niagara Falls poured out filling my pad and underwear in FIVE seconds. I'd run to the restroom and BOULDERS of blood would pile into the toilet. Sorry I'm being so graphic but it plays on my mind constantly. Mostly the fact that I flushed my baby along with those boulders in one of the many visits to the restroom at South Austin Hospital.


By the time I was seen and examined I had flushed everything out of me and into Austin's sewers.


What hurts me the most is that there was actually a LIVE baby within me in this pregnancy. At 7 weeks I heard it's heartbeat and saw its tiny body. Then, at 11 weeks it died.


All the while, in the back of my mind I thought, How do I explain the loss of a baby to a 5 year old who's ecstatic about having another sibling?
-Mommy, "Sweetie, mommy lost the baby."(?)
-child, "Where'd you lose it Mommy? Let's go look for it!"
no, no, no, no, no....that won't work.

-Mommy, "The baby didn't make it.It wasn't strong enough. Mommy isn't having the baby anymore."(?)
-child, "oh.................."

Sadness and confusion overcome her face. And I am more heartbroken. And although it was in the best interest of me and my two children, and the sake of the unborn baby to NOT have this child....I had accepted Gods Gift That I Couldn't Understand....I was in denial for a while when I discovered I was pregnant. But I was holding life within me. My daughter would sit at the table everyday to draw and if she'd include me in the drawings, she wouldn't forget to add a little baby inside my tummy. It was part of the family already.
And now it's gone.
Now it's us three.
Again.

~ "Que sera, sera
[What will be, will be]

Alcohol is an ugly thing. People drink to get drunk, because it's "fun", to escape their problems for that moment or forget their problems, for that moment. I had my first beer second month of college. It was the first time I got drunk. And after that I was hooked. I looked for it wherever I could find it and had many drunken nights where I'd wake up remembering only the first half of the event.

When I met my daughter's father I stopped. I didn't stop because of him. I had had enough of it because I realized how much it was hurting and not helping. When I first started drinking I'd just get so drunk I'd end up throwing it all back up and passing out. The last time I drank I ended up with bruises as big as a grapefruit and with a terrible cold.

Last year, I started drinking again. I was going through a very bad time and there was no escape from all the sadness and depression. I stopped when I realized I had someone to save me. Or so I thought. But then a few months later I got pregnant and had a miscarriage. I don't think I started drinking just because of the miscarriage. There were many other things that played their part...like having the worst possible relationship with my mother and brother and being hurt continuously by men. I just couldn't get over all of it.

Chris told me to stop and I did. I've had the urge to drink every week since then. But I just whiz by that aisle at the grocery store and tell myself, "for what?"

Now, my Chris has started drinking to the point where he doesn't come home until 5am or until the next day. We aren't together anymore but he tells me when he's sober that he would like for us to be a family again someday. I'd believe him but then he goes out the next night and doesn't come back.

He came home a few hours ago and, I admit, I exploded inappropriately. I started yelling at him and hitting him. I pulled off the chains he wears that I bought and gave him. And he told me to get out. Right then and there. He took the car keys and house keys.

I have nowhere else to go but back to my physically abusive mother. I really don't want to go back to living with her. It was hard enough to see her yesterday and have dinner. I know that once I set foot back into that house with my kids she will do everything in her willpower to take my kids away and turn them against me. She has her evil and dirty ways.

But where else can I go? What else can I do?

I am ten weeks pregnant and question whether I should still have this baby.
I can't stop smoking, which was never a problem with my other two pregnancies. I quit in a heartbeat but now it just seems so difficult.

It'll be a long while before I can blog again. And I don't know if living with my mom will give me freedom and privacy to do so. Do to anything. She makes life not worth living.
I do not want to go back to her.

Tristan Rain

Let me start like this....
I have never been the religious or spiritual type of person. When in desparate times I put my palms together and pray to God for help and guidance and a sign of what I need to do. When I feel like I can't take another breath of life I turn to Him to give me strength. But I do not go to church or think that attending church will make me a faithful believer. I have never read the Bible and, although, I have been baptised into Catholicism I wouldn't claim myself as a real Catholic. At least not by choice.

However, something has happened to me recently that has made me pause a second and take a second glance at God and his purpose and our purpose in life. I have been through some rough patches though I take credit for ALL of it. There are certain things that take part in it all and its been bits of reason to hinder my ability to make better choices. Yet, at the same time I hold the key to MY life. God just helps me turn that key. I could've made better choices. ME.

So, afterwards, I start pointing my finger and blaming Him or blaming the thought that I believed there is a God but "where is He when I need Him". Someone told me today that God is with us every step of the way but he isn't the one that's made that decision for us. We make the decision and he stands by our side, guiding us. It's just up to us to actually look up to God and take his hand.

REALITY SLAPS ME IN THE FACE

I am going through a rough time right now. It's tough but it's making me a stronger person because as a mother of two beautiful children my ONLY option is to get stronger. People have tried to take my kids away. I'll tell you one thing. You can take my money, my home, all the materialistic things I own...you will never take my kids. They are mine. And I am theirs. There's nothing more to it. If you do not approve of my motherly ways, turn around and walk away. Simple enough. You wanna be a part of OUR lives and be supportive - I welcome positivity.
With everything I've realised now, all that matters in this world are my children. Life is no piece of pie/ piece of cake when you're a parent, let alone a single one. It's also sad when you try and you try and you try to make things work out in order to keep a family together (for the sake of the kids, right?). And THEN, when you think nothing else could go wrong; when you think things can't get any worse; when you feel like your head is going to explode - the unexpected slaps you in the face. The world freezes for a moment. You look into your little globe of life and you become your bestest friend and talk with yourself and give yourself all this good advice. All of a sudden you see the righteous path and all the wrong pathes you've taken along the way. All the "Why me? Why now? Why, why, why...?" is becoming clear.

Lessons come to you in life to make you stronger. It's up to you to let that lesson seep into your core and let it become a chapter in your life. That way you carry it with you to remember. Not to dwell on. But just to remember.

The picture you see above is little Tristan Rain. He/ she is the one who slapped me :) Haha...
The timing, I thought, was WAY OFF and close to impossible. God knows why I concieved NOW after trying for a year. So! I accept it and pray He is by my side through every step of the way so that one day I will realize the whole truth and enjoy it with tranquility.
No more "why me, why now, why...?". The answer is: Fatima, Hayden, Tristan and Me! And God :)

Happy Birthday To Me

The day my mother gave birth to Iris Michelle Cruz 26 years ago is tomorrow. The ONLY person that remembers my birthday -so far- is my son's father. I was never even with him long enough to celebrate a single birthday with him. But he called with some good news and wished me a Feliz CumpleaNos. Made me want to board a plane and fly over to give him a hug. Yes, yes I know, they're just words but it really meant a lot that he remembered considering what I'm going through right now.

So, tomorrow, when I awake I have the whole day to play with my kids. Nothing new. I'd love to go out and eat at a restaurant I LOVE! It's called Cannoli Joe's Italian Buffet.
I have not met one person yet who DOESNT like Italian food. And its a buffet! So you get up and go for more Marinated Mushrooms or Insalata Caprese, Grilled Steak Marsala and Rigatoni Bolognese, Roasted Pork Loin Rosmarino and LOTS o' LOTS of Garlic Bread. Unfortunantely, my Beringer White Zinfadel can not come to my table this birthday. Take a hint?

But I'm only dreaming. My kids have the faintest idea what tomorrow means to me. I have no money to take the kids and myself. I'll probably end up at the park my daughter named Mama Thumb and then we'll venture off to Border's Bookstore where my son will pull all the books off the shelf and my daughter will ask for me to buy anything that has TinkerBell or Disney Princess on 'em. We'll drive back home and have nuggets and fries for dinner. Watch Boomerang until bedtime.
HAAAPPYY BIIIIIRTHDAAAY TOOOOOOOOOOOO ME

Monday I start a new age. I already got wrinkles to go with it. I feel funny watching those wrinkles stretch across my face. Funnier thing is that I noticed those wrinkles just today. I feel bad that I haven't taken care of myself better. In two years I have aged an equivalent to 7 years. I don't feel young and vibrant anymore.
Tell me, where is the Fountain of Youth?

Potty Train to Enter New Diapers

He runs up to me calling, "pee pee! pee pee!" so I run along with him to find the potty. I pull down his knickers and sit him on the potty. He smiles at me and after a mere 15 seconds he grins, "i dUNN"...he stands up and I peek into the bowl only to find it as dry as the Gobi desert. I frown and tell my baby boy who turned 2 in March, "Papa, you need to pee pee in the potty. Not on the floor," (I point towards the ground) "and not in your undies, ok?" His response is a carefree 'O.K.' and runs away to terrorize the house with pee. I've changed his underwear three times already within the last 3 hours. I know there are pee stains on the carpet left and right. And unfortunate am I to start so late only because I am expecting yet another blessed child in another 9 months-*SIGH*-
Honestly, this time it was not intentional but everything happens for a reason. Right? Right.
AND...with the prices of EVERYTHING rising...my urgency to potty train my little man is A1 Priority. He should be potty trained by then anyhow since he'll be three. Though, I hear boys tend to be tardy on the pee-in-the-potty learning process.
TO THINK! I only had a mere 20 more years of sleep deprivation-to make sure they got up and went to school with a filled belly. Now it will be delayed yet another four years. Aaarrgghh!
I was remembering today about how when I was a young woman of 16 I had everything all planned out. I had planned never to marry but if I had the chance to adopt, I'd do so. And if not I would try to concieve my first baby at 26. Here I am now, pregnant with my third at the age of 26. Ironic, isn't it?
........ ............... ............... ............
LO AND BEHOLD! TRIUMPH! HE HAS SUCCESSFULLY PEE'D IN HIS POTTY! Perhaps there is a God. LOL! Obviously, there is a God. And only one. But that's another blog of another topic. Right now, I must go wash his legs from all the pee pee and reward him with a nice, warm sippie cup full o' milk. Got milk?

Nothing Will Ever Be the Same

The phone alarm sounds as early as 3 AM, telling me to tell my husband to get up. That alarm is always unsuccessful. 3:30AM and it sounds again, my phone on my side of the bed and his phone on his side. Last wake up call sweetie or else you'll get up 10 after 4AM and will be flying out the door- no shower, no sight of what you clothing you slapped on and no brushed teeth. I worry that someday he'll get caught for speeding in order to get to work on time.
All the while, he's speeding and I am back to sleep. Most of the time I dont even hear him get up, get dressed and crank up the car. My duty is to get up no later than 6:20 AM in order to make my daughter some breakfast and prepare her lunch box, find matching clothes-which is a task that I find unbelievably challenging- and getting my son ready to bolt out the door and fly down the FM road and into the town. I'm suprised I get most of it done in only 45-50 minutes- the preparation, of course. For each and every task I tell my daughter (i.e. get dressed, get your shoes on, eat your food) I have to tell her ....oh, roughly around 10 times, each and everytime. My son, depending on his mood though he is always happy to help his sister carry her backpack into class, might give me a few laps before tackling him down and getting his diaper changed and dressed. Plus I have to load up the bag with tons of sippy cups filled with 3/4 apple juice and 1/4 water. Its his obsession and a habit I must break.
Now, if had wanted to take a shower in order to go to school with brand new sweat instead of yesterdays sweat, I'd have to be up at 6AM. If I lolly gag in bed 5 or 10 minutes after 6 -
BIG NO NO! Thats just means I as might as well take my sweet time 'cuz she's already automatically late for school. And I'm not a fan of speeding. Not very experienced at it either. And instead of cursing the 5 cars infront that like to drive 10 mph slower than they should....I either get up later and drive with stinky armpits OR ... disregard spoiling myself the extra few minutes in bed.
So, its a 30 minute drive to her school. Takes about 5-6 minutes to shoe her off into class and help her hang her sweater, backpack, lunch, Hayden getting hugs from all the girls. Then my poor son and I are back into the car and on our way home again.
Days like today where I had to pack my own backpack filled with breakfast, snacks and drinks for my son so that I could take him to the doctor only to find out that my instincts were right and poor baby has ear infections, both ears. Had to run and get the prescription, come home, feed him lunch, run back out and pick up my daughter, pick up the prescriptions, drop off a shirt to my husband at his second/ evening job and home to clean and cook again.
With gas being SO expensive you wonder, how do we manage? Let me tell you, its no piece of cake and we've had to let go of everything we wanted. Save for what we really need. And that is, gas, toilet paper and diapers.
I remember in my college days, high school days mostly, when I thought I had things to worry about. When in fact all I had to do was enjoy youth and prepare myself for the real worries of adulthood. Now I tell myself every night, nothing will ever be the same.