I hadn't seen anything quite like today in 12 years in education. It started with the most beautiful card from 2 sibling students and their mother. The words brought tears to my eyes...."There is a circle of caring all around...and you are right in the middle." I fought those tears of joy. Then the kids hugging me tightly...crying...saying goodbye to me. Despite my lessons on coping with change and saying goodbye, it remained a tough task for me and them. My heart didn't want to say goodbye.
And then there are those amazing 5th graders. Sweet. Endearing. Living life and being a normal awkward as is expected at their age. As they walked through the narrow halls high-fiving and cheering at the end of the day with the entire school clapping for them, these 5th graders showed all emotions. Most were in tears. They are now leaving their safety nest. They are spreading their young wings. I couldn't help but feel the pulse of pride spreading through my veins as I saw these amazing souls experience change. All the while, it won't be the first or only change.
I so wanted to jump out and hug every single one of them. But it wasn't about me. It was about them. However, I couldn't help but realize in that moment that I was also graduating. You see...I have been in education for 12 years, and just like 12 years of school, I am moving on to the next level. I am 37, but I'm not sure what is going to happen next in my career...other than the fact that I will be with my love living in New York. I couldn't be happier. But the bittersweet piece of all of this is that I am taking a break from work for at least a year, and it's been a long time working with kids that it feels foreign to not be surrounded by them. I'm open to wherever the road takes me, but for today, I want to cherish this special moment. I want to breathe in and appreciate every thing I have lived for during the past 12 years as an educator...as a teacher and as a counselor.
Today, I celebrate all 12 years...all 10 classes that I taught...and the three grade levels I counseled the past 2 years. I am a super nostalgic person, and I reminisce like there is no tomorrow. But I will honor the change we all go through. I trust that these kids' changes will guide them to success, and that my change will be a journey of true enlightenment and love.
So here's to a new beginning!
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
The Fault in Our Faith
Before I write my first post in five years, I bet you're wondering what Miss Piggy and lipstick have to do with anything...and why is it my new blog title? I hope to keep you hooked. All I will say right this second is that it relates to my past, something undeniably a part of what has shaped me. I do not like pink that much, and I do not wear lipstick. But if I did, would that even matter?
So that brings me to my topic. The fault in our faith.
I know plenty of good churches that do not act the way I am about to describe. I am not writing to condemn people for what they believe in but rather speak to my own truth and understanding. Unlike so many of my family and friends, I cannot subscribe to the same religious beliefs or even the same idea of God or the word of the Bible. It has never made sense to me.
I believe in God, and I am a spiritual man. But I am a non-believer in religion. I have survived the guilt and shame of being a Mormon as well as having escaped a cult. In that essence, I do not believe that we should be "God-fearing." Why should I fear my God? How is that healing?
Further, I cannot be a follower of some notion if it is used to harm others. Christians prompt us to stand up against evil. I do believe that evil exists, but many evils happen to be Christian. Why do I say that? Forcing people to think and believe through guilt, shame, and humiliation is brainwashing. I should know. I was once brainwashed by a cult that was not even religious.
I find fault in our faith when I see people using their ideology to inflict pain and oppress others and call that God's plan. Faith s personable to me, not something I have to announce to the world. Maybe I will write about my exact beliefs, or maybe I won't. It's something I design as a sort of contract between me and my loving God.
I am very happy with that, and I do not want to be saved.
So that brings me to my topic. The fault in our faith.
I know plenty of good churches that do not act the way I am about to describe. I am not writing to condemn people for what they believe in but rather speak to my own truth and understanding. Unlike so many of my family and friends, I cannot subscribe to the same religious beliefs or even the same idea of God or the word of the Bible. It has never made sense to me.
I believe in God, and I am a spiritual man. But I am a non-believer in religion. I have survived the guilt and shame of being a Mormon as well as having escaped a cult. In that essence, I do not believe that we should be "God-fearing." Why should I fear my God? How is that healing?
Further, I cannot be a follower of some notion if it is used to harm others. Christians prompt us to stand up against evil. I do believe that evil exists, but many evils happen to be Christian. Why do I say that? Forcing people to think and believe through guilt, shame, and humiliation is brainwashing. I should know. I was once brainwashed by a cult that was not even religious.
I find fault in our faith when I see people using their ideology to inflict pain and oppress others and call that God's plan. Faith s personable to me, not something I have to announce to the world. Maybe I will write about my exact beliefs, or maybe I won't. It's something I design as a sort of contract between me and my loving God.
I am very happy with that, and I do not want to be saved.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Time to Reflect
The 2008-2009 school year is over. Close it. Burn it. Put it behind you.
Those are some of the thoughts that come to mind when I reflect upon one of the most challenging school years of my teaching career. Unlike last year where I was moved to another school, I was back at the campus I dearly love. I knew I'd be getting a challenging group of 4th graders. But, Lord, I had no idea I'd be getting the hell I experienced. After teaching one of the best 4th grade classes ever, I jumped into the pot of bullies, harassers, low performers, and horrible attitudes.
Picture it. I'm standing right outside my classroom door in the hallway with one eye and one ear plastered to the crack in the door and the other eye, ear and all my vocal cords disciplining a student or sometimes three students at a time. Multiply that by 4 times a day, and you'll see what I experienced every day. Torture. I could never turn my back for one second, or another discipline issue would arise.
My dear friend Cari had warned me before she rallied to get me back at Caldwell at the end of last year. She let me know how horrible this class would be. I had one who spent two years in 3rd grade without having passed the reading TAKS test after a total of 6 attempts. That same kid also enjoyed burning two of my other students with lighters.
On top of the behavior problems, which I'm good at dealing with (but for some reason, these kids didn't change much), I had major academic setbacks with this group. The lowest of the low. No motivation. Consistently bombing test after test. In fact, 2 girls scored a 7 on a reading test. Yes, a lowly 7 out of 100! One of my kids wrote on a kindergarten level.
I tutored after school for an hour 2 days a week and pulled kids during recess for additional help. But grades weren't getting any better. Then the first TAKS test was about to roll around at the beginning of March.
On February 22, Marco and I were watching the Academy Awards like we do every year. Our friend JR was in town from LA. The three of us were very much anticipating the winners. Around 8:30 or 9:oo that night, I got a call from my coworker. She let me know that Cari had passed away earlier that evening. I didn't think I had heard her correctly.
Cari Slider? My dear friend and our school counselor? The one I was running with?
It was true. She died suddenly. And the cause was unknown. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night, and the following day was the most difficult day at school. I remember having lost my dad the first week of school in 2004, but this was different. Everyone was affected by her loss. Tears were dropping everywhere that day.
In fact, I'm still shocked, even though I know it was a heart attack. But how and why? I guess we'll never know.
The funeral came and went, as did the writing TAKS test on March 3. A group of us that ran with her from work decided to keep our promise to run in the OKC half marathon, which we did. That experience, coupled with the team relay at the White Rock marathon, really united us. That is something for which I'm forever grateful.
And the week after OKC, we hit the reading and math TAKS tests on consecutive days. I had done just about everything possible to help these kids, despite the infusion of spirit and energy from running and the downfall from losing Cari. It was out of my hands at this point.
I just left it up to the kids and God. This being the worst class I have ever taught, I wasn't sure what would come of it. But just a couple of weeks ago, we got the results.
92% passing in math
87% passing in reading
77% passing in writing
That was just my class. The rest of the classes did even better! My jaw had dropped. I couldn't believe that this whole year this class had struggled, failed, and then pulled this off!? I was a mixture of ecstatic and angered. Why couldn't they have worked this hard all year?
As a result, our school is exemplary. That's the first time I've worked at an exemplary school!
The end of the year is bittersweet for me. I'm glad to release the students into the summer and new teachers next year, but I'm saddened to let go of the year because of Cari. I don't want to forget. Death is a challenge. The more that time passes, the more fear I feel of forgetting. And I have been through this with the death of my dad. It feels like a catch 22.
My next step? Look into the GRE so I can get my masters in counseling and follow my heart. Cari would have wanted that.
Those are some of the thoughts that come to mind when I reflect upon one of the most challenging school years of my teaching career. Unlike last year where I was moved to another school, I was back at the campus I dearly love. I knew I'd be getting a challenging group of 4th graders. But, Lord, I had no idea I'd be getting the hell I experienced. After teaching one of the best 4th grade classes ever, I jumped into the pot of bullies, harassers, low performers, and horrible attitudes.
Picture it. I'm standing right outside my classroom door in the hallway with one eye and one ear plastered to the crack in the door and the other eye, ear and all my vocal cords disciplining a student or sometimes three students at a time. Multiply that by 4 times a day, and you'll see what I experienced every day. Torture. I could never turn my back for one second, or another discipline issue would arise.
My dear friend Cari had warned me before she rallied to get me back at Caldwell at the end of last year. She let me know how horrible this class would be. I had one who spent two years in 3rd grade without having passed the reading TAKS test after a total of 6 attempts. That same kid also enjoyed burning two of my other students with lighters.
On top of the behavior problems, which I'm good at dealing with (but for some reason, these kids didn't change much), I had major academic setbacks with this group. The lowest of the low. No motivation. Consistently bombing test after test. In fact, 2 girls scored a 7 on a reading test. Yes, a lowly 7 out of 100! One of my kids wrote on a kindergarten level.
I tutored after school for an hour 2 days a week and pulled kids during recess for additional help. But grades weren't getting any better. Then the first TAKS test was about to roll around at the beginning of March.
On February 22, Marco and I were watching the Academy Awards like we do every year. Our friend JR was in town from LA. The three of us were very much anticipating the winners. Around 8:30 or 9:oo that night, I got a call from my coworker. She let me know that Cari had passed away earlier that evening. I didn't think I had heard her correctly.
Cari Slider? My dear friend and our school counselor? The one I was running with?
It was true. She died suddenly. And the cause was unknown. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night, and the following day was the most difficult day at school. I remember having lost my dad the first week of school in 2004, but this was different. Everyone was affected by her loss. Tears were dropping everywhere that day.
In fact, I'm still shocked, even though I know it was a heart attack. But how and why? I guess we'll never know.
The funeral came and went, as did the writing TAKS test on March 3. A group of us that ran with her from work decided to keep our promise to run in the OKC half marathon, which we did. That experience, coupled with the team relay at the White Rock marathon, really united us. That is something for which I'm forever grateful.
And the week after OKC, we hit the reading and math TAKS tests on consecutive days. I had done just about everything possible to help these kids, despite the infusion of spirit and energy from running and the downfall from losing Cari. It was out of my hands at this point.
I just left it up to the kids and God. This being the worst class I have ever taught, I wasn't sure what would come of it. But just a couple of weeks ago, we got the results.
92% passing in math
87% passing in reading
77% passing in writing
That was just my class. The rest of the classes did even better! My jaw had dropped. I couldn't believe that this whole year this class had struggled, failed, and then pulled this off!? I was a mixture of ecstatic and angered. Why couldn't they have worked this hard all year?
As a result, our school is exemplary. That's the first time I've worked at an exemplary school!
The end of the year is bittersweet for me. I'm glad to release the students into the summer and new teachers next year, but I'm saddened to let go of the year because of Cari. I don't want to forget. Death is a challenge. The more that time passes, the more fear I feel of forgetting. And I have been through this with the death of my dad. It feels like a catch 22.
My next step? Look into the GRE so I can get my masters in counseling and follow my heart. Cari would have wanted that.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
A New Day
Hope is reviving.
A vibrant spirit fills the air. Today is a new day. Today is historic.
We are shifting into a conscious realm where equality becomes a hope for all people. Just like Obama said in his election speech last night, regardless of party affiliation, sex, age, race, gay, straight, or disability, we are here today. We are more united than ever because for the first time in our history, we have chosen someone based on merit rather than power. It truly feels like a new country.
A country that for so long has oppressed the powerless. A country rich in propaganda tactics utilized to enforce its military presence. A country that claimed it was united but always felt divided. A country where the rich and homogenous have ruled.
But not today.
Today we breathe a new sense of hope. It's a victory across the world because we are evolving as people. We are aware of our impact on this earth. Equality is within reach for many of us.
I now feel that the day will come much sooner than later when I can marry. A day where women will earn just as much as men. A day where we work together in collaboration rather than sit back in self-absorbtion. A day where we can start to erase the line between majority and minority.
It's epic. It's history. It's a new hope.
Today we are. We're here.
It is a new day.
A vibrant spirit fills the air. Today is a new day. Today is historic.
We are shifting into a conscious realm where equality becomes a hope for all people. Just like Obama said in his election speech last night, regardless of party affiliation, sex, age, race, gay, straight, or disability, we are here today. We are more united than ever because for the first time in our history, we have chosen someone based on merit rather than power. It truly feels like a new country.
A country that for so long has oppressed the powerless. A country rich in propaganda tactics utilized to enforce its military presence. A country that claimed it was united but always felt divided. A country where the rich and homogenous have ruled.
But not today.
Today we breathe a new sense of hope. It's a victory across the world because we are evolving as people. We are aware of our impact on this earth. Equality is within reach for many of us.
I now feel that the day will come much sooner than later when I can marry. A day where women will earn just as much as men. A day where we work together in collaboration rather than sit back in self-absorbtion. A day where we can start to erase the line between majority and minority.
It's epic. It's history. It's a new hope.
Today we are. We're here.
It is a new day.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Passion
Times, they are a changin'.
As the change keeps coming, the harder it is to see sometimes. Who you are versus who you used to be. Where you're going versus where you want to be. What you're doing versus what you want to do.
For going on 7 years, I've lived a passionate life as an educator. I've had some bumps and bruises along the road, but not until now have I felt so burned out. The candle won't light up. The umpfh is missing. Sure, I felt a lot of things the year my dad died, but this year, I feel extremely overwhelmed. Not just by work. But by the desire to be free. To claim who I am and who I share my life with and not fear what might happen for saying it out loud.
I think back to a not far ago time when the world seemed to be within my grasp. Being 21 and traveling the world. The craziest thing is that when I lived in Argentina, it was probably one of the happiest times in my life. Happy because I was carefree. I felt the passion, and even though I hit a hard road that spiraled downward, I also had a lot of peace. I always wanted to be the "professional" student and traveler. I've felt like dropping everything and moving to a remote area.
To breathe and take in life. Yes, people that do that seem to create a oneness, or inner peace if you will. To many people, the avid traveler seems to be running away from something. I just think they're running to the light. Their inner light. They live the passion that burns inside. I think I could do that.
I would love nothing more than for Marco and me to just up and move. Live abroad for a year or two. Just live and be free of the demands.
Yea, it's my fantasy, but is it too far fetched? Is it unattainable? My recent situation with my homeowners association and the battle to right a wrong might dictate it's not a good time. Or the recent failings in the stock market might also have a say in it. My goodness, I've been thinking a lot about my investments. Then I've entertained the thought of going into counseling, which means grad school. I've even looked into volunteering for a gay youth organization, a cause that I strongly believe in. But then most of my time out of work is dedicated to volunteering to save my investment in my home.
Regardless of the current state of matters, I'm drained. I want, need and dream of dropping everything to follow my heart. God, I feel I need this more than I've ever needed it before. I just want to breathe.
Marco and me....just laying on the beach or drinking wine in South America, Europe or Africa. Time to check my oil and rekindle the light that keeps the candle burning.
As the change keeps coming, the harder it is to see sometimes. Who you are versus who you used to be. Where you're going versus where you want to be. What you're doing versus what you want to do.
For going on 7 years, I've lived a passionate life as an educator. I've had some bumps and bruises along the road, but not until now have I felt so burned out. The candle won't light up. The umpfh is missing. Sure, I felt a lot of things the year my dad died, but this year, I feel extremely overwhelmed. Not just by work. But by the desire to be free. To claim who I am and who I share my life with and not fear what might happen for saying it out loud.
I think back to a not far ago time when the world seemed to be within my grasp. Being 21 and traveling the world. The craziest thing is that when I lived in Argentina, it was probably one of the happiest times in my life. Happy because I was carefree. I felt the passion, and even though I hit a hard road that spiraled downward, I also had a lot of peace. I always wanted to be the "professional" student and traveler. I've felt like dropping everything and moving to a remote area.
To breathe and take in life. Yes, people that do that seem to create a oneness, or inner peace if you will. To many people, the avid traveler seems to be running away from something. I just think they're running to the light. Their inner light. They live the passion that burns inside. I think I could do that.
I would love nothing more than for Marco and me to just up and move. Live abroad for a year or two. Just live and be free of the demands.
Yea, it's my fantasy, but is it too far fetched? Is it unattainable? My recent situation with my homeowners association and the battle to right a wrong might dictate it's not a good time. Or the recent failings in the stock market might also have a say in it. My goodness, I've been thinking a lot about my investments. Then I've entertained the thought of going into counseling, which means grad school. I've even looked into volunteering for a gay youth organization, a cause that I strongly believe in. But then most of my time out of work is dedicated to volunteering to save my investment in my home.
Regardless of the current state of matters, I'm drained. I want, need and dream of dropping everything to follow my heart. God, I feel I need this more than I've ever needed it before. I just want to breathe.
Marco and me....just laying on the beach or drinking wine in South America, Europe or Africa. Time to check my oil and rekindle the light that keeps the candle burning.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Argentina revisited
Ten years ago and one year later. It's been 10 years since I was a naive exchange student living in Buenos Aires, searching for my own identity. A time of a high spiritual presence, yet vulnerability. A time in which I got lost.
Then a year ago, I revisited my path in Buenos Aires for the first time since living there in 1998. It was a true spiritual journey, an awakening of sorts, vengence, and picking my heart back up off where I last left it. This is what I wrote a year ago from my visit back to Argentina. It's hard to believe it's already been a year!
I am revisiting this moment because it was a huge turning point in my life. Going back is something I'll never forget, and it's a moment that I cherish. Even today when I talk to friends about the experience.
And if you wonder what the rest of the journey was like, just take a look at this slice of heaven! Ushuaia, Argentina. The end of the world.
Here I am dog sledding. Amazing!
A view from the train to the end of the world.
Then a year ago, I revisited my path in Buenos Aires for the first time since living there in 1998. It was a true spiritual journey, an awakening of sorts, vengence, and picking my heart back up off where I last left it. This is what I wrote a year ago from my visit back to Argentina. It's hard to believe it's already been a year!
Friday, July 20, 2007
 | Lipstick, a napkin and my phone number Thanks to Kent and Andrea...and Bianca for reading these. This one will be short because today, to be honest, was tough. Again, a long day of walking. The day started off with a call from Marco around 1015 Bs.As. time. I was still in bed, but it was great to hear his voice! Being in a city as big as Bs.As., which is bigger than NYC, and doing it alone, can be a bit lonely at times. I headed out the door with one thing in mind. Recoleta. It´s hip. It´s posh. It´s got money and lots of great eating and shopping. It also has the famous cemetary where Evita is buried. But I went for the cemetary and the food. And my history there. Walking past Isabel´s house yesterday wasn´t hard. This was ten times more difficult. As I walked slowly up to the wall fencing in the cemetary, I found myself getting choked up. It was hitting me all over again, just like I was there in 1998. Ok, I´m sounding melodramatic, but I´m really not. This is how I felt. Why is that you wonder, damn this computer for not having a functioning question mark key! LOL
Nine years ago I stood in the plaza in front of the Recoleta Cemetary singing for money. Not for fun. For desperation. That group that I was involved with through Isabel had me working with two people. Our goal was to have a break through with our biggest fear. For me, that was drawing attention to myself in public. This will make so much sense to so many people now that they hear this story. This group that I was selling myself to made me sing on the streets of Buenos Aires, and I had to earn $30 dollars. Any way I had to, it was expected to be done. Now they didn´t physically force me, but things were so crazy with them that I feared what was going to happen if I didn´t get the money. So I sang the only 2 songs I knew by heart, Somebody by Depeche Mode and Walls by Tom Petty. Of course, I sucked, and I hated every minute of it. I looked like a toothpick because these people wouldn´t let us eat during the ¨trainings¨. My clothes were literally falling off me. While I was singing, an American couple approached me and asked what was wrong.
I had no idea what to say but to do anything to get money, and those who know me well know that I do not lie! Well, I told them I was robbed and had no money to get back to the States for Christmas so I could see my family. They asked how much I needed, and I told them how ever much. I was just scared shitless! They were reluctant, but they gave me $10 dollars. I then found out that they were from Dallas too! They wanted my parents´phone number so they could call to let them know I was struggling. The wife didn´t have paper or pen, but she pulled out a napkin and her lipstick. Surprised, I gave them the correct number. I never saw them again, but they came into play to save me later. I eventually made the $30 to please the group. After that, I knew I had to get out somehow. I eventually made it home for the holidays, expected to recruit my family members and fulfill homework assignments for the new age group. While I was home, the man who saw me called and told my mom what he witnessed. I´ll never forget it. I came home from the movies that night, and my family intervened and took my passport away. I never returned to Argentina. I never got to fulfill my goal of living hear the whole year. So that´s the gist of the what happened. Now back to today. I arrived and felt the lump in my throat. I had to fight back the tears. I´m so different now...no longer vulnerable, naive or in fear. But this was a moment that changed my life. This is where I lost my spirituality nearly 10 years ago. And I came to get it back! I sat on a bench near the area where I think I was singing, watching a gentleman sing across from me at that moment. After having enough, I got up and walked into the cemetary. I spent almost an hour, and once again, I came across Evita´s grave. Not as big as you would think, but I have the pictures. Well, this is much longer than I hoped for. But my dad always wanted me to use this information to help educate others. I guess that makes me a spiritual warrior. I gave up so much of myself, my spiritual self, because of this experience in the plaza. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I even refused to speak Spanish. But here I am. I´m stronger than that now, and I got my groove back! It took some lipstick, a napkin, my phone number, and years of enduring life altering events to get it back! But hell, I got it! Happy Friends Day! Chau! |
hopeful 
I am revisiting this moment because it was a huge turning point in my life. Going back is something I'll never forget, and it's a moment that I cherish. Even today when I talk to friends about the experience.
And if you wonder what the rest of the journey was like, just take a look at this slice of heaven! Ushuaia, Argentina. The end of the world.
Here I am dog sledding. Amazing!
A view from the train to the end of the world.
But this was the moment worth the 9 year wait and first trip to the southern most city in the world. The Beagle Channel. It's mystical. Haunting. Historical. Beautiful. It's just heaven!
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Angels on Earth
When I saw my brother Joey and his wife Amy last Sunday, we were sharing photos from our trip to Europe, drinking wine and laughing. Obviously, Amy wasn't sharing the wine since she was pregnant. We got to see the nursery and felt the excitement of the upcoming week. Baby Julien Joaquin Stevens would be born on Friday, August 1. Amy was more than ready to get the difficult pregnancy over and welcome her first child into the world. The gestational diabetes had taken a toll on her body, and she wasn't feeling very well.
Come Tuesday, she was going in for her final sonogram. Her doctor detected very high blood pressure and protein in her urine, both symptoms of preeclampsia, a potentially fatal disorder to both mother and son. They immediately went to the hospital for more tests. Fortunately, her blood pressure stabilized, and she didn't have preeclampsia. Instead, they suspected she had HELLP, which stands for Hemolyptic anemia, Elevated Liver enzymes, and Low Platelet count. Thankfully, doctors decided to hospitalize her that day and would induce Wednesday morning.
By Wednesday, they had given her a pill to soften the cervix, which caused her to go into labor without inducing. It seemed pretty good. However, they kept monitoring the baby, and the compications kept rising. His heart was overworking, so they did an emergency Caesarean section.
All was going well, and baby Julien was born healthy, immediately looking like his mom and favoring the latino in his blood. Instantly, I felt tears. Pride of being an uncle again. Having a new nephew. Happy for Joey and Amy. Happy for being there when he was born. I couldn't believe he was here, and he was born safely. I had worried about him.
However, Amy wasn't doing so well. She was in immense pain, and her skin was turning yellow. By that night, they discovered that her blood wasn't clotting like it should as a result of the c-section. Elation over the arrival of a newborn turned to an unsettling preoccupation over Amy's health. There was possibility of having to go back into surgery to repair the lack of clotting.
But first, they gave her plasma and blood transfusions to see if that would help. That evening, it appeared it had and surgery wouldn't be necessary. But the night was not kind to her. The pain increased. By morning, they decided she would need the surgery to help recover sooner. Meanwhile, during this whole time after giving birth, she hadn't been able to hold Julien due to her weak state. Sure, Mommy did "hold" him with the help of family, but unfortunately, Amy couldn't be alone with him because of her medication and state of health.
On Thursday morning, I received a call from Joey. They were going to take her into surgery at 2 pm. I took care of some errands at home, and then I headed up to Lewisville. She looked a little better, but you could still tell she wasn't feeling well. Just like the previous day, she was weak and doped up on meds.
When I got there, she was about to go into surgery. Thankfully, I got there in time despite the holdups with traffic. She was in the OR for a good hour and a half. During that time, I remained in the room with Edie, her mother, and Julien. I held him for an hour, rocking him as he slept.
If there's one thing about this calming and peaceful boy, it's that he has an amazing energy and spirit. He doesn't cry or fuss much. When you hold him, you feel as though an angel has descended from heaven and touched you. Everything about him, from his long fingers, small ears, full head of brown hair, to his long legs, feels angellic. I guess angels do exist on Earth.
Around 5:30 pm, Joey came back from the day surgery waiting room to let us know how things went. They found out that she had lost a liter of blood, which explains why her blood pressure dropped so much since the c-section. Thankfully they went in to correct the clotting problem, or else she would have eventually started to hemmorage. When she came out of recovery, it was like seeing a whole new person. She was already feeling better.
As of today, they're still having to give her more blood. She's become anemic. I can't wait for her to enjoy her beautiful just as the rest of us have already done. To even see her hold him and capture that moment in a picture will be beautiful! A moment where both parents can hold their son at the same time without having to worry as much as these past several days.
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