Saturday, February 24, 2007
The Mention of his Name
My husband mentioned Solomon's name last night, quite to my surprise. We were at friend's for dinner with the kids. I don't know what we were talking about. And then he mentioned something about how I would behave at the OB's office after we lost Solomon. It sounded so odd, the name coming out of Eric's mouth. And it was very unusual, at least to me, that he would bring him up at all. No, lightning didn't strike. It was just a moment in time when my husband felt comfortable enough to bring Solomon up.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Ash Wednesday
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.
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.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Photo
A few weeks ago I was sent a photo of my paternal great-grandparents, Gus and Isabel. The photo was taken in Black and White, and the copy I received has that sepia tone to it. In the middle of the couple is the woman who is my great-great grandmother, Carmella. Until I received the photo, Carmella was a mystery woman. I had heard her name through the years from my grandmother and mom. My grandmother met her a few times when she was dating my grandfather, Al, the son of Gus and Isabel.
Carmella is someone I will never know, regardless of how many photos I receive, stories I hear or Internet searches on Ancestry.com I do. She is very similar to me the way Solomon is at this point in time. I won't know him either, at least not in the way I know my children Alison and Adam. It seems so strange that there are all these relatives I've never met, but logical at the same time. And I wonder if Solomon has met them where he is.
Carmella is someone I will never know, regardless of how many photos I receive, stories I hear or Internet searches on Ancestry.com I do. She is very similar to me the way Solomon is at this point in time. I won't know him either, at least not in the way I know my children Alison and Adam. It seems so strange that there are all these relatives I've never met, but logical at the same time. And I wonder if Solomon has met them where he is.
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