Today is Ash Wednesday. Not a holiday for me. I meant to post yesterday on Mardi Gras. That's not a holiday for me either.
What I note about both days is that in 2000, Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday were March 7 and 8. I delivered Solomon on March 8.
On Mardi Gras, I started the day fantasizing that the doctors were wrong, my dates were wrong and that all the wrongs would make one big right, and I wouldn't be losing my baby. On Ash Wednesday the biggest wrong, me, occurred.
Whenever I see a person with ashes on their forehead, two things come to mind. First is my friend Terry, who always left work at lunchtime, went to the closest Church and returned to the office ashened. The second is losing Solomon. The nurse attending to me had gone on this errand, and sure enough I delivered my baby without her. In the end, it doesn't really matter, she would not have been able to save my child. When she returned and learned I was done, she apologized and helped to clean me up. Those are my Ash Wednesday memories.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment