Her Baby

Me and my pregnant belly spent the night in Mom's room in a plastic very uncomfortable lounge chair.  I was awake more than I was asleep but thankfully, Mom slept well.

In total I was in Florida for a week.  Sam left first, then Val and then I left to go back to my active duty life at Ft. Riley.  Leaving Mom was tough but she was home from the hospital and doing quite well.    She was alert, pain free and knew exactly what was going on  . . . .but the biggest thing about Mom was her faith.  She embraced it like a life-line and well, it really was a life-line. 

Mom talked about her Lord Jesus all of the time, she spent most of her waking hours reading her Bible and praying.  She talked about death and heaven with joy in her voice.  At this point, we had no idea what her long-term prognosis was but Mom was ready to go home.  She had no fear, no complaints, no self-pity --Mom was full of complete and indescribable joy!  And it was an infectious joy.  Mom's illness brought her into this intimate relationship with the Lord.  She entered into the holiest place of the Tablernacle and there, she daily met her God.  To be a witness to that, that deep faith and love for the Lord --that was nothing short of a privilege. 

Mom did not pray for healing.  She prayed for God's will and when it became clear to her God's will was bringing her home, she began to pray for one thing.

Every day, Mom prayed that God will allow her to live long enough to see her baby, the one I was carrying.  She'd say, "I'm ready to go to heaven to live with Jesus but I ask him every day to let me live to see my baby born."

And with that, July 1988 came to an end.

We Really Weren't All About Following The Rules

I don't remember very much about the next few days only that it was a lot of waiting around.  We decided we did not want Mom to stay alone so we all took turns spending the night with her, again we defaulted to birth order and so, Val spent the first night with Mom.  Well, the first night she was out of ICU.  I believe that first night post surgery she stayed the night in ICU.

The first day Mom was back in her room was amazing.  Mom was alert, talking, laughing . . . we just stayed with Mom keeping her company, lifting her spirits.  I think I failed to mention the area in her brain where her tumor was located was the part of the brain that controlled speech, which is why one of Mom's symptoms was forgetting words.  But post surgery Mom was doing quite well.  I mean no, it wasn't a miracle cure and she still had difficulty with her speech but she was talking and knew what was going on.

She was Mom but  . . . she wasn't quite the same.  Something changed in her, I'm not sure what but after her surgery Mom was never the same Mom again.  It was sad yes, but in some ways it was amazing too.

I still needed people to hate and just about every staff person was a perfect candidate for me.  When I say "hate" I don't really mean that in a literal sense, you understand, but in my stage of anger, that emotion just needed some release.  And it wasn't as if I was acting angry or hateful towards anyone, it was more or less an inner turmoil ---fighting my heart, head and confusion privately within myself.

But angry I was, nonetheless.

Mom loved the beach.  You know, that Puerto Rican tropical blood in her.  LOVED!  THE!  BEACH!  So one we were all sitting around with Mom talking and trying to keep her spirits up and she was telling us what she wanted to do when she got out of the hospital --and one of those things was go to the beach.  So we stared making plans--we were talking, laughing --having a good time.  Enter Crabby Nurse.  She comes in and asks if she could speak with us out in the hall --so my sisters and I stepped out.

And she lit into us!  We got a scolding and she wasn't nice about it at all!  "Your mother just had brain surgery!!!  You have her all worked up.  I hear all kinds of laughter and talking going on.  Your mother needs her rest and she doesn't need to be making plans --you understand why, right?  She's not going to the beach!  Now you girls need to keep her calm and quiet or . . ."

The nerve of her!  Really!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It was as if she was saying Mom was dying and would never go anywhere ever again.  So after our scolding my sister and I stood there and we figured whatever made Mom happy is what we were going to do.  Granted, we understood she needed her rest and we agreed to tone it down a bit --but treat Mom like she was half dead?  No, we refused.  Treat Mom like there was no hope?  Absolutely not!

Since Mom's speech was affected we wondered if that had any bearing on her Spanish, as she was bi-lingual.  So we asked around and found out there was a Spanish speaking nurse on the next floor so we asked if he wouldn't mind coming over to talk to Mom.  He agreed when he got a chance to get away he'd come over.

It was about an hour or so when this young man walks in and very bright and cheerful greets Mom in Spanish.  Her whole face lit up!  She began rattling off Spanish--Mom loved connecting to her Puerto Rican heritage.  They talked for a bit, the nurse turned to us and said, "Her Spanish is completely fine!  She was having no trouble at all understanding me or speaking to me."  Mom was so glad he came.

Another thing Crabby Nurse told us was that Mom should not look at her face or scar until some swelling had gone down.  I don't think Mom looked bad at all but the nurse told us post surgery, Mom kept asking to see herself but they decided it was best if she wait but for us to not act like it was nothing and keep telling Mom we couldn't find a mirror ---just make excuses.  Mom kept asking over and over to see herself and we kept changing the subject, telling her we'd find a mirror, etc.  Then it just came to me --Mom isn't stupid.  I'm sure she was aware of what we were doing and it bothered me.  We were lying to her and treating her like a baby.  Mom asked again to see herself, while gently running her hand over her incisions (they were not bandaged at this point) and my sister Val made up some excuse.  Then Mom touched her face, looked me right in the eye and said, "I look like a monster!"

Her words cut me deep.  I felt so bad for her.  I assured her she certainly did not look like a monster and then I said, "Mom, do you really want to see yourself?"  My sister Val caught my attention and with a mortified look shook her head no.  I wasn't having it.  We were not making Mom feel any better about herself and in fact, she assumed we kept putting her off because she looked horrible.  She needed to see herself and I did not care what any nurse said!  I got a mirror, from where I don't really remember, and I sat on the bed next to Mom.  My sister Val got in close too and we let Mom look at her face.

If you've seen the movie in Titanic there is a scene that so perfectly describes Mom seeing herself in the mirror.  It's when Rose, as an elderly woman, is on the ship she was flown out to and she is shown some articles that were salvaged from the wreckage, one of which was her mirror.  Rose picks it up and looks at herself, stares for a minute then says, "Hmp, the reflection has changed a bit."  It wasn't as if Rose was particularly happy with the change but she was resigned to it --in full acceptance of ---it is what it is!

That is kind of what Mom did.  She looked at herself a bit kind of shrugged and that was that. She was not horrified and if anything, it helped ease her worries and nerves more than anything.  Not seeing herself was making her more anxious.

Since Val had spent the first night with Mom, it was my turn that night.  So after visiting hours were over everyone went back to Mom and Bob's and I spent the night with Mom.  We really weren't supposed to but --if you have not already noticed, we really weren't all about following the rules.

She Was Cold

Still in the wake of the news, a nurse came out and told us we could see Mom; however we could only go in one at a time and we only had 10 minutes total.  My step-Dad deferred to us girls and so it was decided we'd go in birth order.

[I have purposely not said much about my step-Dad because he deserves an entire post himself --which will come later.  His name is Bob.  I'll call him Bob from now on.]

I was so anxious to see Mom.  I felt like no one could take care of her as well as we could because no one could love her as much as we did.  I was still reeling in anger towards the doctor but mostly, my attention and emotions turned towards seeing Mom.  Val was only with Mom a few minutes but it felt like an eternity.

I was bracing myself for the absolute worst when I saw Mom but I also wanted to be strong for her.  When I walked into ICU I was absolutely amazed how well Mom looked.  Besides a bandage on her head, she looked great, much better than I had prepared myself for.  She was alert and talking.  She knew me and said my name.

One thing about Mom is that she was born and raise in Puerto Rico and that tropical island living never got out of her blood.  She despised being cold and HATED winters.  If you knew Mom for any amount of time, you'd soon learn she hated to be cold.  Hated it.

Mom was laying flat on her back and could not get up so in order for her to see you'd have to lean over her bed.  Remember now, I'm 4 months pregnant and it shows.  I'm also short so leaning over onto a tall hospital bed would have been a challenge even without a pregnant belly.  I lean over to see Mom and she said my name, that thrilled me.  She was talking in a very soft voice, almost a whisper.  She said, "Mesa, I'm cold."  I looked up for a nurse and told her we needed a blanket, though Mom was already piled up with a few.  The nurse brought over a nice warm blanket, straight out of a warming drawer.  We piled it on Mom and I asked, "Is that better?"   It was not.

Two things were going through my mind --Mom being the most comfortable she could be and not taking up too much time so my sister Sam could come in.  I knew she too was anxious to see Mom.  Mom kept saying over and over, "I"m cold."  I knew how much Mom hated to be cold.  I wanted her comfortable.  So I tried to lean over and hug her, wrap my arms around her.  I asked for more blankets.  Soon Mom looked like the Princess and the Pea only in reverse.  Instead of Mom being on the top of a pile of blankets, Mom was beneath a pile of blankets.  You could no longer see the shape of her body --it was just a rectangular pile of blankets with her head sticking out.

But she was still so cold.

I just remember trying to get closer to her---hug her, warm her.  My pregnant belly was making that a challenge, leaning over and all.  I was just so focused on helping Mom get warm.  Soon a nurse came over to me and said, "Uh, I'm sorry but you can't get into the bed with her."  Without realizing it, I practically had climbed into bed with Mom!  I kind of looked around and thought to myself, "Well how'd I get up here?"  I'm glad the nurse said that though because the doctor was no longer around so you know, my anger needed a place to land.  Now I hated the nurse.

But I was well aware of my sister waiting to see Mom so I told Mom good-bye and that Sam would be in soon to see her.  I kissed her and hated to leave.  I wanted to stay with her forever and ever and ever but--I could not. 

Bye Mom, Sam is coming in next, okay?  Rest and take care.  We'll see you soon.  Bye, Mom.  I love you.  I love you. 

Anger

Denial.  Anger.

I was going through the classic stages --so proverbial text book.  At first I was in denial.  Even the whole Red Cross fiasco was a welcomed distraction from what was going on.  I was able to focus on all those logistical things and not the reason.  Once I moved from denial I was angry.  Very angry.  And my anger needed some place to land --and so . .

I hated that doctor.  As his words were swimming in my head I was thinking, "How dare you!  This is our MOTHER you are talking about."  As my heart made that transition from denial to anger, I wanted someone to blame.  The doctor made it easy though.  His bedside manner was horrible.  He was so matter-of-fact and almost had an air of arrogance about him.  I hated him.  I thought, "Oh sure, you drop this bomb on us and you're going to speed away in your fancy sports car and go home to YOUR family.  How dare you do this to us!"

My oldest sister was taking charge --asking questions, putting herself in the forefront.  That is both her personality and birth order.  She was the oldest, she was establishing her authority.  My youngest sister didn't say too much.  I couldn't stand looking at her face --it revealed so much of her broken heart and I couldn't bare it --which is probably why I focused so much on the doctor's hands.  My step-father was standing behind us, still very close and listening to every word.

My sister Val asked one final question.  After the doctor laid out to us Mom's condition my sister Val asked, "What about the prognosis?  What can we expect?"  The doctor almost seemed annoyed at the question and he kept things short as if he were trying to end the conversation.  He was impatient and snippy.  He answered, "Prognosis?  There's just no way to know.  I told you, your Mom has a tumor in her brain and its growing and there's no way to remove it.  What else can I tell you?  We'll do radiation but you have to remember, the radiation kills cells --it kills good cells and it kills bad cells.  The radiation will slow down the tumor's growth but it will also kill her brain cells."

Anger!

Next we asked if we could see Mom and again being very impatient, the doctor said someone would come get us, "Anything else?", he asked.  No, that was it.  He whisked himself away.  We were left standing there--digesting this news.

I Hurt So Very Badly

I wasn't worried or upset while Mom was in surgery because mostly, I was kind of detached from the entire thing.  My head knew what was going on but I didn't allow my heart into the matter.  It was a defense mechanism, I guess.  While we were waiting to hear about Mom's surgery, I was pretty easy going.  There was a large general waiting room and then there were smaller private rooms.  I didn't like the private rooms because they really look like they existed only for the purpose of the doctor having to tell you your loved one didn't make it . . . .

But Mom was going to make it because to me there was hardly any difference than Mom having a splinter removed --I was just that far removed from the situation.  It was like I was having an out-of-body experience; I was there and going through the motions but yet, I wasn't there. 

Its kind of hard to explain.

So the waiting did make me weary or tired.  I was mostly bored.  My sister Val was reading her Bible off and on and at one point she showed a verse to me and said, "If Mom doesn't make  it I'm going to claim this verse."  I can't tell you how much that annoyed me.  First of all, "if Mom doesn't make it" didn't even translate to me.  It didn't even occur to me to pray for Mom because like I said, I was trying to make this out to be nothing at all --some simple procedure with a happy outcome.  At one point I finally thought to myself, "Maybe I should pray for Mom too."  So I went into one of those small rooms and prayed something like this.

Heavenly Father, I don't know what to ask or pray for but it seems with her in surgery and all I should ---I should try and  --its just that I can't imagine my life without . . .

I stopped.  Tears were swelling up in my eyes and I immediately turned everything off --my tears, my heart, my prayers, my emotions --all of it.  You see, having to pray meant for me to think about what was going on.  Having to think about what was going on was way bigger than me --it was too heavy.  I ended my prayer with . .

I'm sorry.  I just can't do this.  But you know my heart and you know me.  That's all I can say.

I walked out of the room and resumed my wait with my sisters.

It was several hours before the doctor finally came to see us.  We were all in the big waiting area watching TV, talking, waiting ----and he comes in so we all rushed over to him.  He started, "Your Mom is fine.  Surgery went. . "

He was talking a bit with his hands and I couldn't help notice them.  His voice faded into the background as I stared down at his hands and that was my moment of reality.  His hands were all pruny like when you've been in the water a very long time.  I thought, "This is real.  This is happening.  Its not like this on Marcus Welby.  Doctors on TV don't have pruny hands because they didn't really do surgery.  He did surgery.  This is real.  This is happening to Mom."

I have no idea where the Marcus Welby reference came from --even 21 years ago that show had long been off the air --but maybe it was some attachment to my childhood--the place where my memory of Mom begins. . . .

At that moment of reality, I could barely focus.  I hated every word I heard. I hurt so badly.  I hurt so very badly.  With my heart and head swimming in this pool of reality, I tried so hard to focus on the doctor's words  but I only heard bits and pieces . . .

We cut as much of the tumor out as we could . . . . it had already gone too deep into her brain . . . taking any more out would have meant removing part of her brain . . radiation and . . . .months to come . . . any more questions?

Just Wait

Finally landing in Florida was quite a relief however; I was still not certain I was going to make it to the hospital before my Mom went into surgery.  My step-Dad was at the airport to pick me up and thankfully, it was a small airport.  It was literally walk off plane, right into baggage claim right to front door, right to parking lot.  My step-father was able to park right at the entrance, I walked off the plane and he said to me, "We better hurry, your Mother is going into surgery any minute now."  I did not have checked baggage so we were able to get right into the car and head out.

It was only about a 20 minute drive, which felt like and eternity.  My heart was racing and I had a panic feeling swelling in my chest.  I had done all I could.  I had so many hurdles to jump but now I was in the home stretch.  My step-Dad dropped me off at the door at the hospital while he went to park.  I rushed to Mom's room.  I finally made it to my Mom's room and I braced myself for what I might find.  If the room was empty, I was too late.


Breathless, I turn the corner and walk into Mom's room to find her still in her bed awaiting surgery.  When she saw me she screamed with delight.  My step-Dad's daughter, Liz, was in the room along with my sisters, Val and Sam.  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, "You made it!"  By this time, my step-Dad had even finished parking and he was in the room too.  Much like when we surprised Mom at work, my Mom was talking fast and high pitched, very excited and nervous too.   As we all sat around Mom she said, "Now that I have all of you here I want to tell you . . . "  Then Mom started giving us a verbal will, so to speak.  She was telling us about insurance policies, etc.  My sister Val said, "Mom!  We don't care about money.  You don't have to tell us this . ."  But Mom was insistent, "No, I want you to know this --what I want."  Mom went on to say:

I don't want you to be sad for me.  If I die I'm going to heaven.  I will be in heaven with Jesus so there's no reason to be sad for me.  I do not want any flowers at my funeral.  I'm not there to enjoy them --its a waste of money.  Instead I want money to my church.  . . ."  

She continued on with specifications but only a few minutes after my arrival, a nurse came in and said it was time for Mom to go.  We all kissed her and hugged her.  Though she wouldn't let on, I could tell she was nervous and scared but deeper still, she held on so strong to her faith and trusting in God's will for her live --whatever that may be.  We were directed to another floor in the hospital where there was a waiting room for family members.  So as Mom was wheeled out of her room, we all headed up to another floor.

To wait.  Just wait.

Holding Pattern

I'm not sure how that little Dodge Colt did it but we whipped into Kansas City airport just 10 minutes before the flight was to take off.

10 minutes.

There was no time for long-term parking.  In fact, I barely had time to park at all.  Thankfully, Kansas City airport was small and back then, there was not the same level of security as there is today so I jetted myself into the short-term parking lot and parked in the front row, just a short walk from the entrance.  I grabbed my bag and hustled my 4 month pregnant self to the check-in counter.  Breathless, I explained to the clerk I was supposed to be on a flight that was getting ready to take off.  She tapped on her keyboard ---click clack, click clack and said, "This flight might have taken off already.  Let me call the  . . . "

My heart was pounding in my chest and I was literally shaking.  I never felt so desperate for something in my entire life.  Desperate.  She calls the gate.

"I have a passenger . . . oh good, yes please do.  Okay, I'm getting her checked in now . . yes, okay.  I'll let her know.  Great, thanks."  She then says to me, "You are so lucky.  They were just closing the doors but they are holding the flight for you.  I told them we'd have you checked in ---this will just take a few moments click clack, click clack . .  okay so that will be $800 and . . "

I pulled out my pretty Red Cross check and handed it to the clerk.  She stares down at it, looks at me and I could tell she did not want to deliver the news . . ."I'm sorry, we don't accept checks. .  ."

I just broke down crying.  I had been trying to get to Florida for hours and now I'm this close and --I can't pay for the flight.  Up until now I pretty much held it together but now, I just couldn't take it.  I stood there sobbing and simply said, "It's all I have.  The check is good, its a real check and --its all I have but I just have to get to Florida and . . "  She cut me off.

"Okay, I'll be right back."  She took the check with her.  A short while later she returns and there's a man with her.  I could tell by the looks on their faces they came to deliver bad news.  The man is holding the check, he holds it out to me and says, "Unfortunately, we don't accept checks and I might be able to over ride that for a smaller amount but  --this is quite a large check and --I'm sorry but we just don't accept checks.  Do you have another form of payment, perhaps?"  I reach into my purse which I'm sure they thought to grab my wallet or something but instead, I grabbed my military Emergency Leave orders.  I laid them on the counter and with tears rolling down my face I said, "I have no other form of payment but that Red Cross check."  I pushed my orders towards them and said, "But I have to get to Florida tonight."  The man picked up my orders, gave them a quick glance and said to the woman, "Print her a ticket."  He then looked at me and said, "Good luck to you."  Then he walked away.  The woman was preparing my ticket and her phone rang, " . . .yes, I'm printing it now.  I know.  Yes, right now.  She will.  Okay, I'll tell her."  She hung up giving me a warm smile and said, "They're still holding the flight.  I think the pilot is getting impatient. . . I know this must be something important . . "  She handed me my ticket and said, "I hope everything works out for you.  Go now, they're waiting for you."

I grabbed the ticket and boarding pass and FLEW.    At least I didn't have the security measures that are in place to day --I sailed right to the gate where a host of attendants were waiting for me.  They were impatient but kind.  They were motioning for me to hurry to the gate.  It was almost as if I were celebrity status.  Every attendant was waiting on me ---one grabbed my boarding pass, one grabbed my bag, "I'm going to store this for you up front."  Another was waiting to show me to my seat . . .they were all very nice and very accommodating.  I just wish the passengers were the same.  As soon as I boarded the flight I got stares and "tisks" and people rolling their eyes at me . . There she is!  The stupid lady that can't get to the airport on time and held up our flight. . "  As I walked to my seat, it felt like every eye was angrily plastered on me.  They had absolutely no idea what I had been through.

I finally got to my seat and no sooner than I got my seat belt clicked on, I heard the pilot come over the speaker and the plane began to pull out.

I was finally on my way to Florida but looking at the time, Mom was scheduled to go into surgery in just a few hours.

I Have To Get To Mom

The CQ called the CO (Company Commander) at home and the good ol' Captain was a bit perturbed he was disturbed after duty hours.  The CQ explained to him the situation and he said something like, "I saw those orders come in but it was close to the end of the day so I figured I'd just wait until tomorrow."  The CQ then explained how I was there waiting on these orders and the Captain said, "Well, I didn't know there was an urgency."

DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS AN URGENCY??????????????????????

I'M SORRY, WHAT PART OF EMERGENCY LEAVE IS CONFUSING, SIR??????

I have no recollection of what happened next.  My next memory is me in my apartment.  I do remember I was so over taken with disbelief that it superseded (for the time being) any anger in me.   I also remember telling myself I needed to focus on getting to my Mom and I'd deal with the Captain later so I filed this whole ordeal away.

Next thing I remember, I'm standing in my apartment on the phone with Red Cross.  You see, the plan had been my flight reservations were being made through the military travel office and Red Cross was going to give them a check to cover the cost of my flight.  You know back then, we didn't have all these online travel sites and flying at a moment's notice was very expensive.  In fact, I remember my flight was about $900.  But now since my orders did not get signed and all this time had passed, the Red Cross office and travel office was closed so my flight could not be paid for.  When I got back to my apartment I called Red Cross and got an after hours recording . . .our normal hours of operation are . . if this is an emergency . . 

THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I called the after hours number and of course since this was a person I had not previously spoken to, I had to go through the entire story again.  Don't you hate that?  You get transferred over to a new representative and have to explain the problem all over again . . . .but thankfully, unlike my Captain, this person was actually very nice and very helpful.  She gave me the name and number of a person at Ft. Riley I was to call.  She told me I'd be able to get a check from her.  The next call I made was to the airlines, as I had missed another flight and I was trying to get out that night.  After several calls I was able to book THE LAST FLIGHT OUT OF KANSAS CITY UNTIL MORNING.  The last flight.

THE LAST FLIGHT.

I looked at the time, the flight took off in 2 hours.  Two hours!  It was a two hour drive to the airport--and I still needed to get the Red Cross check.  I called my step-Dad and sisters, who had already arrived in Florida, to let him know I finally got my orders and what flight to expect me on.  I then called the Red Cross contact at Ft. Riley and she was so very sweet.  The other Red Cross person I had just spoken to called her and I was ever so thankful she did --that I didn't have to start my story from the very beginning again.  The Red Cross lady gave me her address and said for me to come on over, she'd be waiting for me.  She lived in family housing on base.  I grabbed by bag and orders and headed back on post.

I don't remember what time it was but it was evening --certainly after dinner hour and maybe nearing bedtime.  It was late and it felt a little strange going over to this stranger's house.  The lady answered the door and invited me in.  We walked over to her dining room table.  I remember her husband was in the family room sitting watching TV.  This felt so intrusive --both me in their home and them into my emergency situation.   I didn't like it at all.  I remember having to force myself to be patient because I just wanted to scream to this lady GIVE ME THE CHECK!  I HAVE LESS THAN TWO HOURS TO GET TO THE AIRPORT!

We sat at her dining room table where she had a lock box sitting there waiting.  She took a set of keys and opened the box.  It seemed to me she was moving in slow motion but you know, I'm sure everything was moving at a normal pace.  She opened the box and I saw the prettiest red, white and blue checks with that big red cross logo in the corner.  I just love paper so much --pretty paper that even in my distress, I still noted the pretty checks.  The woman took out a check, wrote it out to the airlines then she had to record the check, get a copy of my orders, I had to sign for the check, show my ID . . . .

CAN YOU PLEASE MOVE THIS ALONG??????????????????????

Finally, we were done and I headed out to the airport.  I now had about 1 1/2 hours to make a 2 hour drive but keep in mind, that left no time to park, check in, etc.  We didn't have e-tickets back then . . but we also didn't have the level of security we have now . . even so, I stood a very slim chance of getting on a flight within 1 1/2 hours.

I floored my little 1985 Dodge Colt.  I prayed for safety.  I prayed for my baby (I wondered what all this stress was doing to my pregnancy).  I prayed I'd not get caught speeding (can you pray for protection from the law?  I dunno--but I did).  I prayed I'd get to my Mom on time.  I prayed.  I prayed.  And I drove and I drove and all the while, I kept having to remind myself to breath.  It felt like my throat was closing.

I have to get to Mom!  I just have to get to my Mom!

Emergency Leave Orders

After dropping Jerry off at the airport in Kansas City, I drove back to Ft. Riley knowing I was just going to turn around and come right back.  I get back to my apartment and start a flurry of phone calls.  First I checked in with my unit letting them know I'd be picking up my Emergency Leave orders but . . .they had none.  No call.  WHAT?  So I spent the next hour or so calling back and forth to my sister, the hospital my Mom was in, the Red Cross, my unit . . . . .and if you would imagine with me all this pre computer days and pre cell phone days.  Heck, I didn't even have a cordless phone!  I remember talking on the phone pacing back and forth in my apartment --as far as the cord would allow.  So you know, it wasn't like someone could just log onto a computer and see the progression of the Emergency Leave status . . . we were paper pushers back then.  Paper pushers and long distance phone bills.

Making a long story short, I waited hours and hours for my leave orders to get approved and no one seemed to know where the kink in the line was.  In the meantime, I was on the phone with the airlines and I kept pushing back my flight because I was not able to leave until I had orders.  The Army considers that AWOL. 

Picture this with me if you will --- just hours ago I put Jerry on a plane back to Germany knowing I wasn't going to see or talk to him (too expensive to call over seas) for 4-5 months and during that time, I was going through a pregnancy alone.  And now I'm dealing with my Mom's emergency and without the benefit of being near or with my family.  My other sisters, Val and Sam, lived near each other so they were together during all of this and in fact, by this time they were already on their way to Florida to be at Mom's side.  I was stuck in Kansas in some bureaucratic Army red tape madness.

After making what seemed like 100 calls, I finally decided I couldn't sit around and wait any longer.  I was running out of flight options to ensure I'd be with Mom before she went into surgery early the next morning.  I hopped into my car and decided to drive to my unit and if nothing else, I'd type the **** Emergency Leave orders myself!  It was after duty hours so the offices at the unit were closed.

I get to my unit and I'm DONE asking questions so I walk over to the CQ desk and pick up the log.  Every call/visitor/incident has to be logged in.  So I run down the log and look for a Red Cross call.  None.  The CQ was like, "Sergeant, can I help you?"  I angrily said, "No, I'm done waiting for help."  The CQ was already familiar with what was going on because I had called him over and over explaining to him I was waiting on some orders.  Now being the Red Cross call was not in the CQ log means the call came in (if in fact it did, at this point I wasn't exactly sure what happened but the Red Cross assured me they called my unit) during duty hours.  I look at the CQ and tell him a Red Cross came in and we needed to find the paperwork, get it signed and the Sergeant said, "Well, I can't really do anything but we can wait until the morning when the 1SG or CO come in . . ." 

WAIT UNTIL MORNING?????????????  Apparently, this soldier had LOST HIS MIND! 

"Sergeant, I do not have the option of waiting until morning.  I have everyone standing by waiting for these orders; I have 3 or 4 different flight reservations on hold, I have my sisters waiting, I have a 2 hour drive to the airport, the Red Cross is waiting to cut me a check and most importantly, MY MOTHER IS WAITING TO SEE ME.  Now, waiting is not an option.  So, if a Red Cross call comes in during the duty day, who would have taken that call?"

The Sergeant and I start brain storming on what could have happened and thinking about who at the company would be the most likely to have taken the call, we called that soldier at home.  It was a female and she remembered the call.  THANK GOD FINALLY SOMEONE KNOWS SOMETHING!  She said, "Oh yeah, that call came in today about 1500 hours.  I typed the Leave Orders and gave them to the CO."  The Sergeant and I then head over to the CO's office and there before my eyes --UNSIGNED EMERGENCY LEAVE ORDERS! 

UNSIGNED.

IGNORED.

Val's Call

As you may recall, it was just a few weeks ago I was in Florida with Mom and my sisters and Val was going to go the the doctor with Mom to try and get some resolution on Mom's headaches and memory loss.  At that appointment, the doctor said they needed to do some tests, etc. so we were just waiting for those results.

As Jerry and I were literally walking out of the door to take him to the airport to return to Germany, my sister Val called.  My family called me Mesa (like Lisa with an m) and often times Val shortened the nickname even further to just --Mes (like niece with an m).  And so her conversation started in a soft low voice, "Mes . . . ."

". . .we got the results of Mom's tests back.  She has a brain tumor."

I remember hearing those words but not really understanding what they meant.  Jerry was standing there next to his luggage just looking at me trying to figure out what was going on.  A big lump had formed in my throat.  It wasn't really what I was hearing that was upsetting to me but the tone of my sister's voice --like this was something serious.  I remember thinking I needed to sit down so I walked over to the couch.

"Mes?  You there?  I need to know what we need to do, you know --the Army.  Mom is going in for surgery tomorrow morning and ----Mes?  You there?"

I was sitting on the couch with tears streaming down my face unable to speak.    I swallowed what felt like a huge lump in my throat, trying to make words come out . . . "Yeah, I'm here."

"Okay well, the doctor doesn't wait to do the surgery and Mom asked that all of us be there before she goes in.  She wants to see all of us before they take her in because you know ---uh, it's just a risk and ----Mom wants to see us.  Can you come?  Like, will the Army let you?"

I had absolutely no words and absolutely no thoughts.  I was numb and I was blank.  I looked up at Jerry and said, "It's my Mom --she has a brain tumor and is having surgery in the morning . . and I need to get to Florida and . . "

I knew this stuff --I knew the procedures and I knew how to deal with Emergency Leave but somehow, all of that left my mind and I could not even function.  So as I sat on the couch Jerry would tell me what to tell my sister so I just robotically relayed Jerry's messages to my sister.  All the while in the back of my mind, both Jerry and I were well aware of the fact that we needed to leave for the airport and he could not miss that flight back to Germany.

Jerry said, "Tell your sister your Mom's doctor or the hospital needs to call the Red Cross and request Emergency Leave for an active duty solider.  Give them your name, rank, social security number and your unit.  Hospitals know what to do, tell your sister they deal with this stuff all of the time.  So just tell her that, they will know what to do."

So I told my sister what Jerry said, gave her the information and then Jerry and I headed out to the airport.  We had a two hour drive.

When I first hung up the phone I just looked at Jerry still in shock and confusion and I said, "I don't know what to do."  I'll never forget he said to me, "You go to your mother.  If my mother was going in for surgery wild horses couldn't keep me from her.  There's not an Army big or bad enough to keep me from doing so."

On the way to the airport Jerry was explaining the Red Cross procedure to me and telling me what I should do.  Like I said, I knew this stuff but somehow I didn't know this stuff.  Suddenly this became my reality and not just some text book set of instructions. 

Now I'm in a time crunch because I have a two hour drive to Kansas City to take Jerry to the airport then a two hour drive back to Ft. Riley and then I have to pack, get my leave orders and drive back to Kansas City and fly to Florida.  I also needed to get all of this done that night and be at Mom's bedside before she went into surgery the next morning.

I was almost glad to be pre-occupied with the 4 hours of drive time because by the time I got back to Ft. Riley all the Red Cross calls and preparations will have been made.  I thought all I literally was going to do was run into the apartment, pack an overnight bag, stop at my unit to pick up my leave orders, drive back to the airport.

But it didn't happen exactly that way.

Getting To Know You, Getting To Know All About You

Now I realize the progression should be; getting to know you, marrying you, having your baby . . .

But in this case it felt like; having your baby, getting to know you . . . . .

Jerry and I were a completely different couple in Kansas than we were in Germany and that bothered me a lot.  Germany felt like we were on a long European vacation and Kansas felt like real life.  Though we still talked of getting married, it wasn't something I was wanting to jump right into.

For one thing, I didn't want a "shot gun" wedding.  Tacky.  I know, I know.  I was pregnant and certainly I should have thought about that BEFORE conception but you know --here I was pregnant now so . . . .

I think my family thought the whole reason Jerry was coming to Kansas was for us to get married.  I kept thinking to myself having a baby is not a good enough reason to get married.  I know, sounds backwards and odd.

Its just that to me a marriage is a "til death do us part" commitment and I wanted to be certain both Jerry and I were in it for the right reasons.  Bringing a baby into the world to unmarried parents is tough but so is bringing a baby into a bad and/or doomed marriage.  My family was still embracing the bi-racial relationship and that just confused me more.  On the other hand, they were pressuring me to get married because they were uncomfortable with the unwed pregnancy.  Well, "they" doesn't exactly mean everyone.  In fact, every family member had a different opinion and every family member wanted me to do what they thought was best.

It was confusing.

When I was a young teenager my grandmother gave me some advice.  She told me a woman should never make a big decision or sign any contracts when she's "on her monthly".  What she meant was, for women that experience PMS and can have high and low emotions, you might want to put off making any big decisions until you are certain they are decisions driven back facts and not hormones.  That kept coming to mind because although Jerry was being sweet and trying so hard to take good care of me, he was also annoying me.  One day I was ready to run to the Justice of the Peace and get married and the next day I wanted to put Jerry on the next plane back to Germany.  As far as Jerry knew, things were great between us and we were headed straight for the alter.  I kept telling him I wanted to wait and he was agreeable to whatever I wanted to do.

I mean, I had such a hard time embracing a maternity uniform, imagine me in a maternity wedding dress?  That makes as much sense as maternity BDU's!

My grandmother's words kept ringing in my head and I wondered if I was having such a difficult time because I was pregnant with raging hormones.  Because I was so confused about everything, I decided I did not want to get married until after the baby was born.  But I didn't tell anyone that.  All I could think of was, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Jerry.  In fact, the thought of hurting him killed me. 

Jerry and I did not end up going to Chicago to meet my family and now I can't remember why.  I do remember looking into flights for us and calculating driving but we never did go.  My Dad was especially disappointed. It was soon time for Jerry to go back to Germany.  My due date was November 15 so he planned to come back then.  And so now I was going to be alone again.  As Jerry was packing to leave I began to realize how much I really did enjoy having him there.  Though we both were still figuring out things about each other, we really did love each other.  We just had things out of order and that made it more difficult.

We were getting ready to leave for the airport.  Jerry was literally zipping up his suitcase when the phone rang.  It was my sister Val.  Her words were very slow and determined.

Strawberry Shakes

It wasn't that Jerry was totally self-absorbed and inconsiderate of me because in addition to dragging me to car lots and me discovering quirky things about him I had never known, he was also very caring and sweet.

After arriving in Kansas, one of the first things he did was to fix up the apartment even more.  He bought slip covers for the furniture, painted and bought me things I needed.  Oh, let me back-up and say, when I first wrote to him and told him I had gotten an apartment he sent me $500 and told me to use it to get settled.  Jerry certainly was stepping up to the plate in taking care of me and our baby.

Every night I came home from work I'd notice something he did to improve the apartment.  One night I came home and he was all giddy and grinning and could hardly stand the surprise.  I walked into the bedroom and there on the bed was a whole pile of baby things; infant car seat, blankets, clothes and miscellaneous things.  One afternoon while I was at work a dozen red roses arrived for me.  They were from Jerry!  Even my OIC said, "Nice job, Jerry!"  So you see, Jerry was being very sweet to me.

One night he picked me up from work and he had two strawberry milkshakes from Dairy Queen; one for him and one for me.  After a long hot day at work, it was just something that happened to hit the spot.  Getting into that hot (no air conditioning) car, it was such a nice treat to have something smooth and frosty to sip on for the ride home.  So I must have made a big deal about how good it was and how much I was enjoying it  . . . .because the very next day Jerry came to pick me up and he had a strawberry shake for me again.

Oh okay, I enjoyed that yesterday so this is good too, I guess.

And then the next day, a strawberry shake.

Next day, strawberry shake.

Day after day after day, strawberry shakes.

I mean, the poor guy is just trying to please me and be nice but you know, to me milkshakes are just an occasional treat.  Then one day Jerry came to pick me up and he didn't have a milkshake and he said, "I was running late and so I was afraid if I got a shake I'd be late in picking you up.  We can stop on the way home."  He was very apologetic but I assured him it was okay and I really didn't need a shake every day.

Then one night we were out to dinner and on the way home Jerry pulls into Dairy Queen and starts to order shakes.  At this point, I feel like my baby is probably swimming in strawberry goo and not embryonic fluid!  I tell Jerry I really wasn't in the mood for a strawberry shake so he says, "Oh, so did you want chocolate or vanilla?"

Neither.  But that's not what I said because he was trying so hard just to be nice.  "Um, I guess vanilla but a small one, the smallest one they have --like a junior or kid size if they have it."

The next day when Jerry picked me up from work guess what he had for me --yup!  A vanilla shake.

Afterthought . . .
After I wrote this blog I asked Jerry if he remembered the strawberry shakes and he did not so I recounted this story to him and he grinned and said, "I don't really remember that specifically but I do remember every night I came to pick you up I tried to have something for you."  Awe dear sweet Jerry!

A few days later I ran out of oven cleaner so I asked Jerry if he would go to the store for me.  When he got back he laid the bag on the counter and said, "I got something for you."  I was so excited because I thought he got me a surprise!  Then I teasingly said, "Hey, this is like when we were in Kansas and you tried to bring me something every day.  We should just make this our thing, you know --I get something every day!"  Jerry stopped for a moment with a distant look on his face as if he was recalling those days.  He smiled and said, "Yeah, I remember wanting to have something for you every day."  Then he snapped back into year 2010 and handed me the bag and said, "Here you go."  I looked in it and all I saw was oven cleaner so I said, "That's it?  I thought you got me something!"  In all seriousness he said, "I did!  I got you some over cleaner!"

Oh what a difference 21 years of marriage makes.

Car Lots

It was just a few weeks before Jerry was able to get Leave and come to Kansas.  He planned his US tour with visits to Atlanta to see his son, Georgia to see his family and Kansas to come see me.  While he was in Kansas, we planned to take trip to Chicago to meet my family.

Jerry first went to Georgia.  His family had no idea what was going on, that I was pregnant or that I even existed (and that I was white).  He wanted to go home to tell his family in person and I respected that.  He also planned a few days with his family then a drive to Atlanta to see his son but unfortunately, he was not able to see his son.

When Jerry arrived Kansas I have to admit, it felt very strange.  In the past few months so much had transpired between us but we were not even together.  My spiritual life had changed too and I wasn't sure how or if Jerry was going to fit into that.  Remember I said while in Germany I began to have doubts on whether or not I could collide my two worlds; the Army which included Jerry and my civilian/home life.  From the moment I went into the Army, it was my intention to eventually return home.  I had no plans or thoughts otherwise.  And now as things changed, I wasn't thinking as much as how I could fit into Jerry's life or how Jerry and I could make a life together but more in terms of, how is Jerry going to fit into my life.  I guess that sounds self-centered but it just never occurred to me I would not return home.  I never ever even considered a life outside of Chicago.

Things were different between us and for the first time I realized, I really didn't know him.  I mean, quite a strange thing to discover this late in the game but all of a sudden I felt like I was with a stranger.  For one thing, for the first time we were outside of our tiny Army community in Germany.  We had so few choices overseas.  For instance, when we went to a movie it wasn't about what movie we wanted to see but if we wanted to go to the one and only choice available.  So now we are in the states together and I'm confused about choices he makes.  In Germany we did just a lot of hanging out because often times, that's all there was to do --but now we are in the states and just hanging out was --boring.

I first realized all of this while standing in a car lot.  Jerry was (and is) obsessed with cars.  Even with no intention or budget to buy one, he can browse car lots all day long.  Though I do find this a bit odd (and boring), when I think if it in terms of window shopping for shoes, I fully understand it.  I can go to a mall and spend the entire day without spending a dime and still have a good time.  The difference is, I don't expect Jerry to go with me and I'm not offended that he would rather stick bamboo shoots up his nail beds than do so.

Every day Jerry would drop me off at work then he'd spend the day --mostly going from one car lot to another.  He'd look at cars, drool over cars, pretend to make deals on cars  . . . . .then in the evening time he would pick me up and take me to every single car lot and show me every single car he looked at and tell me the price, gas mileage . . . . now listen --I'm pregnant, I'm tired, I worked all day long, I'm hungry, I'm in my uncomfortable uniform, it's HOT, the car does not have air conditioning  --I DO NOT WANT TO GO LOOK AT CARS.  So the first time I was nice about it and went along.  The second time I was mostly nice about it but tried to encourage him to speed it up.  The third time I flat out told him I didn't want to go.  The fourth time I was crabby and  . . .you get the picture.  So then we started going home each evening FIRST and eating dinner but then Jerry would ask, "You want to take a drive?"

Well sure I love to take drives --look at houses, parks . . maybe stop for ice cream . . .

No, we'd end up at ANOTHER CAR LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now see, I had just about had it!  I did not want to be at ONE MORE car lot and when I would tell Jerry so he'd say, "I'll just be a minute.  I promise I won't take long . . ."  The two hours later . . . .  

I envisioned a life of dragging our baby around from one car lot to another.  I mean, is there no depth to this man? Can we visit a museum?  Park? 

When I think about Jerry's visit that June what immediately comes to mind are all the car lots we went to and Strawberry shakes.

Tomorrow we will talk about Strawberry shakes.

My Scarlet Letter

While in Germany, I had earned a lot of respect from my peers and superiors and I was treated as such.  I was a good solider and though I had my own set of struggles like keeping up in PT formation or passing map reading during PLDC, I kept myself out of trouble.  I was used to being treated with respect on and off of the job.

I was also respected in a similar manner when I first got to Ft. Riley but much of that was as much about my rank as it was anything else.  Like being the new kid on the block at a job, I was going to have to prove myself; my work ethic and competence.

But then something changed and it was immediate and drastic.  As soon as everyone found out I was pregnant and not married, they all jumped to judgmental conclusions about me.  It was not just my imagination --it was so obvious.  All of a sudden I was just some stupid chick that didn't have any better sense than to get knocked-up.  The Officers started treating me differently.  For instance, when someone would ask me to do something they would stop and explain what they meant --but they had never done that before.  They would even at times use a word then ask me if I knew what they meant.

Some of it is difficult to explain but from the moment everyone laid eyes on me in that maternity uniform, it all changed.  It was in some manner, a shunning of the community.  I was no longer a part of them.

It bothered me a lot and it made me feel like I had the proverbial Scarlet Letter plastered on my chest.

People also asked me very strange and personal questions that just seemed inappropriate.  When someone would find out I wasn't married but I was obviously pregnant they'd ask, "So what are you going to do?"  I suppose they were asking was I going to get married . . .consider adoption . . . I mean, I assume that is what they meant but just because I was pregnant and unwed doesn't mean my personal choices are suddenly up for public knowledge and opinion.  Sometimes people asked, "So who's the father?"  How or why is that YOUR business?  And I don't know but sometimes in the way it was stated it seemed people were really asking, "Do you know who the father is?"  as if to imply because I was single and pregnant I was promiscuous ---"in numbers".

That coupled with the fact that I was personally struggling with shame, it made my pregnancy very emotionally difficult.  I was keenly aware of how people perceived me and they made assumptions about me that just were not true.  I was not a stupid person.  Being pregnant and unwed did not suddenly make me incompetent on the job or as a solider.  I think that robbed me of some of the joy of  my pregnancy because in the back of my mind I was wondering what people were thinking about me.  I'm normally not a people pleaser or try to get everyone's acceptance but in this case, I wanted people to understand I was still a person and my baby was still a baby.

I did not like being treated like we were anything less.

Yes, I Am Pregnant

After learning I was not able to get maternity uniforms, at my next OB appointment I mentioned it to my doctor so he checked AR 670-1, the Army Regulation governing the uniform. 

If a maternity military uniform was not available, the soldier was permitted to wear civilian clothes (business attire) but the Army name tag had to be worn and as much as possible, placed on the civilian attire as close to how it would be worn on the military uniform.  I had to still wear my hair pinned up and no nail polish, etc.  All the other military uniform regulations.

I wasn't thrilled with that idea either.  I happened to really like my Army uniform --I just didn't want to be in maternity BDU's or combat boots.  It seemed wearing a uniform was going to be the easiest and least expensive option.  They did have a maternity Class B uniform, which was the green pants (or skirt) and green dress shirt.  I liked that option the best.

And . . . turns out, that ended up being what  I wore.  Clothing Sales finally got the maternity Class B's in but the BDU's were still on back-order.  I got myself 2 skirts, 2 pairs of pants, 2 short sleeve shirts and 1 long sleeve shirt.  We still had to wear pantyhose with Class B's so I got myself several pair of maternity hose.  I wasn't about to wear low-quarter shoes (very ugly uncomfortable orthopedic looking shoes) and high heels were not a good pregnant option --so I also purchased myself a pair of low-heeled black shiny shoes.  They had a very small wide heel which was a perfect option for my maternity state and yet, still fashionable.

I was to the point where my regular clothes no longer fit in fact, I was wearing maternity civilian clothes off-duty but I was still trying to squeeze myself into my regular uniform--and I finally decided my baby needed room to grow and  wearing my regular BDU's with all the buttons undone wasn't the most comfortable way to spend an 8-hour duty day . . .

So one day I walked into the JAG office, much like I did every other day, but this time I was in a maternity uniform ----

And mouths just dropped open and people stood there starring at me . . .

---Are you-----I didn't know you were -----is that uniform -----are you --------

Yes, I am pregnant.
Well no, I have not told anyone.
Of course you could not have known.
You thought I wasn't married?  Oh well, I'm not.
Yes, he's a soldier. 
No, he's stationed in Germany. 
Of course he knows.
We are talking about getting married.
I feel fine.
November 15.
I just didn't know how to tell people.
The maternity BDU's are on back order. 
I know I have still been running PT.  My doctor said it was okay.
Yes this is a maternity uniform and so yes, that does mean I am pregnant.

Those were the things I said over and over and over that day.

Pictures

In Florida with Mom after I left Germany and before arriving Ft. Riley.

In Kansas City with Val and Mom.

In Kansas City with sister Val.

In Florida on Mom's porch with my nieces Brittany and Courtney --I'm wearing the maternity shirt Sam made me.

On the beach in Florida where I am writing . . . .

This