*

Good night.
*

Greene Light Photography - Hayden Greene

So the latest in Victoria fashion is that I seem to cry alot at baby stories. I watched a few shows of that nature last night with the hubby and ended up bawling every time a baby made it into the world. Used to be something that was so far fetched for me… the idea of giving birth. But it’s become more and more real as of late that the possibility of doing it all makes me feel… empathetic to what the women on the screen are experiencing. More and more though, I know I’d like to have a midwife and a home birth. I use the “home” part loosely. I’d like to have a natural birth in a peaceful setting with minimal pharmaceutical intervention – not necessarily in my apartment living room. If we manage to have a HOUSE by that time, then yes. I’d love to have that.

I watched this documentary put together by Ricki Lake called The Business of Being Born that I was flipping by casually one day cause there was nothing on tv. And it just so happened to be while I was on my 6 week medical leave. I walked away from that documentary knowing a few things for sure 1) Women have an innate knowledge of what the birth process should be like… even if we don’t experience it all the time 2) Women (mostly american ones) have NO IDEA what birth really looks like because all we see on TV are women laid out with their feet in the air screaming for an epidural. It does NOT have to be that way AND? that’s more of that culture of fear. 3) There are always choices but we have to be knowledgeable. We research more for the car we’re going to buy, or the laptop we want than we do for our birth options. In 2005, c-sections were 1 out of every 3 births in America. C-sections are MAJOR Surgery and are SUPPOSED to only be used in dire emergencies. But… I don’t know ONE WOMAN (and I know a LOT) who has recently given birth vaginally. NOT. ONE. I remember noticing this trend back in 2000 and it peaked my interest then. But then it just snow balled. So I’ve always had my antennae up about it.

But I believe and feel more and more now, the reality of having this little life will be my image on the screen one day (edited, of course) LOL And that makes me all teary eyed and happy.

Can’t wait!

*

I’m standing very alone in a situation that calls for backup. But I don’t have much anymore these days. Just my own heart and mind telling me I can stand strong and be strong. And may be that’s all I need. I need to assert myself against a claim formerly made by Cary that I was not the stuff of marriage material. I AM… I can be. I’m always ascending. And I can prove it. Now if others besides me could just believe it for a moment. I could change the world.

I hope who I speak to on Monday has a heart. And if not … I am ready to appeal to the bottom lines.

Please God. Be on my side for this.

*

There was some kind of a crisis outside of a friends building – there was a rally of police cars, fire trucks… something was going down and I happened to be there at my friends house for a get together. When everything died down, we went back upstairs to the apartment party where everyone was sitting around wherever they needed to – living room, kitchen, bedrooms… whatever. I chose to sit on the corner of her bed along with a group of people who sat around the room, on the floor, in chairs and what not watching tv and chatting. I was on the bed playing with my friends baby daughter and ultimately ended up changing her right there (odd – I know). The vibe of the party was this uuber conscious “granola” crowd – a lot of blacks who were fully aware of their “roots” – traced their ancestry back to the countries in Africa, cut off their processed hair and wore clothing weaved of hemp (it’s extreme, but you see them at all the Erykah Badu concerts – drum that up in your mind). And I guess – it’s now not too far of a stretch of the imagination that I was one of them.

So I’m changing this sweet baby girl – not out of anything that would overload the room – but I think I was changing her clothes. And I hear a relatively deep voice from behind me on the bed say softly, “S’ak Passe, cherie m’wen?” (which in creole means – what’s happening my sweet?). So I turn around and laid across the other side of the bed propped up on one arm is this very attractive, very familiar looking man. Light skinned. Tall. Head full of brown curlies, clean shaven, hazel eyes, wicked smile and SWAG… just oozing out of him. I feel like I’ve seen him before… on TV. But in the dream I’m pretty sure he’s a bball player. I respond to him shyly “N’ap kembe.. piti piti.” (which is the equivalent of “hanging in there”). He’s chatting with me for a little while but the whole time he’s talking to me… I could FEEL that he’d locked in on me. I was the subject of his interest and the rest of the world disappeared. He was completely enthralled with me and it felt… amazing. Even through a dream — to have someone think so much of me that I deserved their full attention. Our conversation began to have to wind down because I believe I had to go. In the dream it seems I’m very much still someone else’s girl. “When can I see you again… or talk to you again…?” he asked – being very respectful of my personal space but somehow yet still getting close enough to let me feel his interest. I shrugged and said… I’m not sure…. I smiled shyly again and he ran his hand down the length of my arms and when he got to my hands he looked at them and said… “you have such small hands – they’re beautiful”… And I was about to protest… because the entire monde entiere KNOWS i hate my hands (and feet) because of how very big they are – inherited from my 6′ 5″ father… But I looked at my hand in the expanse of his… BBALL Player… and yeah. They were small in comparison. I glanced at my bberry and announced that I had to go. I reached up to hug him and left. By the time I got in the car I was chatting with some other girlfriends and I heard a BBM message come through. And it was him. I read the screen clearly (which is nearly impossible in a dream… but I managed to read AND remember his name) “Corey Cleophat: Thank you for giving me the chance to meet you. You’re amazing and beautiful and I can’t wait to chat with you again” And I swooned, because i didn’t give him my BBM name so he had to have tried to figure it out or ask someone, but the chase was beginning… he wasn’t going to let me go that quickly.

Then woke up.

So this is a very different kind of swooning in comparison to the swooning I had with my chocolate doctor dream. That dream was creepy moreso because I knew and felt it in my being that I belonged with that doctor man. He was THE PERFECT one… And beyond all sensations I really knew that we were beyond kindred or star crossed… just … destined. With this guy… it was just… so good to be pursued and genuinely wanted. And I’ve been wondering lately – when does that go away? The desire to still be found attractive and worthy of chase. I would think that after marriage beyond it being unnecessary – It can be misconstrued as displeasure or discontent in the current decision. I’m not displeased or discontent in my marriage — however, I wonder if anyone else in the world finds me attractive at all because at this point in life it feels like just the hubby. And that SHOULD be enough. I just wonder how powerful those little bands I put on in the morning are. Like a cloak of invisibility to the opposite sex. They can’t even SEE me to comment on me. It feels a little like disappearing.

But it was good to feel like a genuine article of desire even though it was all in my mind.

*

I’ve been keeping so much bottled in because I can’t stand the thought of it “getting out”… But you know what – I started this blogging experience way long ago when it was called journaling and i had a paper and pen (found ALL my journals in the excavation of my parent’s old apartment – even from elementary school). Fine – back then there wasn’t a “world audience” – but I truly believe there isn’t one here either. I’m writing to the universe and whoever else would like to chime in. I can’t let this not be my place of solitude. Maybe the time away has turned off some readers and thusly given me less eyes. I can deal with that. So then… a few random thoughts that have been going around in my head for the last few months.

I can’t BELIEVE “we” (meaning my brother) lost our birth home – I keep struggling when I write that last word. It wasn’t a house with a white picket fence and memories on the porch. But we grew up there. It WAS my home. It was where I defaulted to because mom and dad were there. And now I’m positive that strangers live there because shit didn’t work out the way it was supposed to. And now all I have are my watercolored memories of green plush couches and burgundy carpets (horrible, I know… but it’s what mom and dad did with the decor LOL)

I’m completely saddened by the earthquake in Haiti. But it’s opened my eyes to so much. I’ve learned more about my parent’s native country in the last few weeks than I had all my life growing up in a haitian household. I understand now why everyone has professional portraits for pictures and not just regular every day pictures. I mean… these people were EXTRA classy. And I understand better now. But the suffering. And the destruction. And the lack of people I thought who loved me checking in — to see if there was anyone I knew in the earthquake. But all I keep hearing is “I assumed that everyone you knew was up here by now.” My family is huge. There’s no way they could ALL be up here. But I’m supposing that it’s been enough death and destruction from me for a lifetime. It still hurts – total strangers checked in with me. *shaking my damned head* I check in on them when there’s so much as too much extra rain in their parts. But… you know… I shouldn’t be doing that in the hopes that they’ll do that for me. So I’ll get over it.

Work is really painful for me right now. 3 times the workload, 1/2 the recognition. My manager who I adored as the “best manager I’ve ever had” has recently had a change of… everything – heart / disposition / demeanor. Maybe that all comes with the birth of his child and probably having to deal with considerably more bullshit than normal. But he’s not the same and hasn’t been for a long time. Used to be that I could count on him to defend his team; provide guidance for us and LEAD us. But he’s pretty much let us all out to flail on our own lately. I guess it’s sink or swim time. It’s really a gyat damned jungle out there. *smh*

Wedded life is much better. I enjoy being with Earl. I have somehow managed to curb my libido down to a dull roar. Maybe this helps in making us better friends and well, so much for lovers. I’ll get it where I can take it. It’s still hellified painful that my best friend is so apathetic towards him after that incident with the emails. It feels very much like Mom & Nininne, but… angrier. Dad could still hang out with Mom and her and it wasn’t weird. But it’s very weird for me now. And will be weirder still when I have kids. Because I’m sure she’ll want to be a part of their lives… but their lives will be part Earl’s.

Sorority life is good and bad… GREAT new position that I’m enjoying very much! Some new sisters in the fold want to act as if I’m after their prized appointed positions. Truly? I’d been there and am not and all I have to say is – if you’re going to be all about business with me IN A SORORITY? I don’t need you – I have enough co-workers. I joined AKA to have SISTERS. Enough of this backstabbing, looking over your shoulder BULL SHIT. I’m done with those particular “women” – I use that quite loosely and will continue to socialize with the ones who are about fostering a sisterhood with me.

We go for consultations on the IVF on Thursday. I’m excited and yet nervous. I hope I’m ready

Hemorrhoids SUCK. And I better get them taken care of before I get pregnant because I can’t imagine this level of discomfort coupled with THAT level of discomfort.

My feelings turn so quickly these days. One day I’m in love with something – an idea, a painting, a thought, a thing… and the next day I could care less for it. People are beginning to be included.

Money continues to be a feast or famine issue for me. Right now I’m at an intermittent buffet… Not wanting for anything dire, but i could sure use some more.

I am the ultimate creature of comfort lately. I enjoy things that comfort me and make me comfortable. Unfortunately for me… all these things COST. So i either need to be comforted less or find more money.

I feel pretty good writing this stuff down finally. Hopefully I’ll continue to do so and won’t trap myself in my own head.

*

Again in this dream, I focus in on the point where there is a massive pomp and circumstance. We’re in quite a grand ballroom where many a gala are taking place. Parties here… wedding there… and look… they just rolled that maroon casket over to the Veranda room…

Casket?

I’m chasing down the Maitre’d because somethings amiss in our room. There isn’t enough of something… something is missing… something ain’t right… and he has to come fix it now. We enter the room where we’re having our event and I’m having some small talk with the Maitre’d about how many grand affairs everyone is having tonight at this fine establishment and he was sure to agree with everything I said. Our ballroom was the GRANDEST… high ceiling, gold gilded walls, cameo shaped portraits and red velvet curtains with gold tassles. Waiters milling about and all the guests fancily decked out in black. After a few people clear the view… there it is. In the center of the room at the head of the dancefloor… a sight to see… My mother’s casket lifted up on some contraption so it was high up off the ground, exalted for all to see. And the Maitre’d walks right over to it. and opens up the top. The part of my mind in the dream that’s still based in reality and fact holds back an open mouthed scream because… WHY IS HE DOING THIS??? But it’s quickly calmed by the part of my mind that’s completely entrenched in this dream and knows this has to happen and is normal. Out of it steps a lovely… in tact… comfortably slimmer… MOBILE… younger… Mommy. Adorned in the same pretty pink dress… her last dress – the one we buried her in, she steps all the way down the stairs as the admiring audience claps and she smiles and acknowledges them with a very professional Miss America wave. She notices me off to the side comes to hug me. And I hear her say CLEARLY, “Vicky…. Vicky… ” I hear HER voice… as if she was trying to wake me. Same voice I haven’t heard in a year and some… clear as a bell… like I’ve not actually forgotten what it sounds like. And I throw my arms around her. GOD she smells good. Mommy ALWAYS smelled good… And I held her tight… for a long time, yearning for her to say something again, so I could feel that familiar vibration of her voice from her body to mine. That sweet sensation that ALL babies live for. But she broke the embrace first. She touched my face and then went milling about to socialize. I was in a trance. I followed her around like a little puppy dog, always staying one or two steps behind… but just far away enough to see her face clearly… see her smile… enjoy her ways. As the night drew to a close, it was time for her to go back…

Back? Back where??

She started to climb up the display case again and laid back down in the casket. They closed the torso portion… and as they prepared to closed the top part… I saw her face become angry… sad… confused… And I immediately thought “she’s not going to like this part one bit.” They began to crank the pillow down and her face lit up in protest… “What are you doing??” She yelled at the Maitre’d. He replied softly that it was just for the night and tomorrow she’d be back, but they have to “store” her this way. I rushed to her side to assure her that everything was going to be fine and she shot me a look that said, You KNOW it’s not going to be fine… but I’ll let it slip for this once…. They cranked her head down and shut the casket face. Guests solemnly left the scene as someone announced that it would be at the same time and place tomorrow, don’t forget.

As I’m walking out of the ballroom, I get a phone call from a number I don’t recognize. I pick up the phone… “Hello?” It’s her… “Vicky… there’s a bag by the air conditioner, it says something about Safety Deposit on the front of the bag… either way… it’s full of bills from last month and I need you to bring it to me tomorrow so that I can rectify some of these bills that have been laying around since I’ve been gone” Oh no…. how do I tell her… we lost the apartment… and in the process had to throw away… EVERYTHING because there was no way for us to assign meaning and importance to the things that belonged to her and dad w/o their minds and sentimentality to tell us otherwise. I tried breaking the news to her. “Mommy, you’ve been gone for over a year now… we did throw some stuff away…” There was a hearkened silence on the other end of the line. I tried to allay her fears because the last thing I wanted to do was upset this dear spirit. “But you know what, I’ll look anyway – what did the bag have in it again?” She started to speak.. but it was broken up by deep breaths. Almost like …. she’s hyperventilating. “Mom…. Mommy… calm down… you’re losing it because you’re in the casket… try to take deep breaths mommy….” I imitated the deep breaths for her so she could follow… When she calmed down enough, she asked “Why am I in here? I want to go home….” “It’s just for today and tomorrow. Once those days are over, you’ll go back…” “Back to where,” she asked bewildered, “I want to stay here…” Some rule that I can’t articulate in this dimension of real life had me knowing that was impossible. These things only lasted for 2 days and that was it. She started to get irate… “I want the bag with my bills in it… I need to rectify these bills because I know you and your brother haven’t.” Upset and hurt, I raised my voice, “MOM… the bills are gone. We threw all the papers away…” in my mind I lined up all the things I would have to admit to now… moving her china cabinet to Brooklyn, losing her apartment where she lived for the last 38 years of her life, throwing away her precious Home Shopping Club purchased Capodimonte…. I continued “Mommy… you were dead to us for a year… What would you have had us do? Hold on to everything on the off chance that you’d come back and stay? This doesn’t always happen you know… and even in this rare exception, you’re not staying…” Silence. Understanding. She replied softly almost as if … she was fading into a vast distance… “But I want to stay…….”

In the narthex of my mind between the exit of that dream and the entrance of my reality, I comforted myself with the knowledge that she didn’t WANT to stay. Life here on this earth had become unbearable for her between her physical ails, loss of her mom… loss of her husband… She WANTED to leave. And we wanted more for her to stay than she did.

There’ll be no more sleep for me tonight.

*

I started today’s post with the intention of documenting this CRAZY dream I had last night. The longer I’m awake though – the less of it I remember – but it was along the lines of this. I was supposed to drive somewhere. But I really was in NO condition to drive. I was either DUMB tired or really drunk. I obviously fell asleep at some point but had the wherewithall to pull the car over to sleep. It took me a second to regain focus in the dream upon waking up but when I did, the light inside the car was on and the dashboard was on but the lights outside my car were off. I tried to start the engine and got nothing. I must’ve drained the battery – but how long could I have been asleep. I finally tried looking around to see where I was and it look like the more suburban parts of Queens — over by Springfield Gardens / Rosedale and the like. But I wasn’t familiar with the particular block I was on. While looking around, I saw that I left my passenger side door open all night. At this point it was dawn so I could see a little better and there were all sorts of suburban bugs just … lined up on my car door. I realize now that my younger brother is in the car with me, but he’s a cross between David and my cousin-in-law, Sammy. So he’s actually YOUNG – like sitting in a booster seat style young. He helps me beat the bugs off the door and I pull the door shut – of course, even in my dream, casting a watchful eye over the door in case we missed any. Now… I think to myself… about this battery… I’d turned off everything in the hopes of allowing the battery some time to relax and “recharge” and I put the key in the ignition and it revved. Awesome – let’s get the eff outta here. I was about to put my car in drive when this motorcycle / smartcar thing rolls up next to my driverside and their passenger gets out slamming her door into mine and denting it. She emerged from the car – white woman, older, about 45 or so. trying to be in shape but there are some pockets that aren’t getting attention and decidedly Goth. She has piercings in her eyebrow, nose and lip. I open my door and shout “are you serious???” and she shoves my car door closed and tells me to deal with it. So in my mind I say, I’m about to. I get out of the car and catch up to her as she’s quickly walking to her house and shove her on the ground. She lands on her lawn and starts to whine, “why’d you push me???” And I told her, “Cause I don’t fux with disrespectful bitches.” She looked like she was gonna stay down (so much for the people in her ride having her back) – so I walked back over to my car and got in. Put the ignition key in and…… Nothing. At that point, I began the waking up process, in real life.

Today’s going to be a tough one. We’re all descending upon 4111 Elbertson St. perhaps for the last time. Get the last few things out now while we can and hopefully get Dominic out before the legal proceedings begin again. 40 years we’d been in that apartment building. A solid 30 in that particular apartment. It’s a lot of history. And every time Earl mentions “throwing”_______”away” I think about all the history _______ had. History I’d forgotten. But it has to be let go. My parent’s couldn’t take it with them. They both had NO plan to speak of regarding what was to be done with their worldly possessions. So… No need for me to add to my children’s burden. When mommy was alive, I used to beg with her to PLEASE not let me have to go through her papers AND Grandma’s papers… she couldn’t bring herself to go through her mother’s papers. 5 years had passed and still nothing. Today is it – go through the dregs of grandma, mommy and daddy’s final “remains” decide what stays and what goes and discard the rest. Never to return to it again. Never see the inside of the place where I grew up again. Although the memories are bittersweet, I hang on to the really good times tighter than I do the traumatic, bad times. I guess now? I can never go home. Not to THAT one. And it’s time for me to forge forward and make a new one – for myself and my progeny. One that they’ll potentially be able to pass down. Not rent or borrow from anyone else. Now there’s a dream

Wish me luck

*

I’ll start with my favorite musical remakes of all time. No profound commentary – I like songs that take the original and flip it on it’s ear and make you look at it in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LIGHT. I really mean it. But somehow maintain all the purest elements of the song. Musicians are genius!

I threw in the Estelle song as a bonus. I can’t hear the Screaming Jay Hawkins one w/o thinking about Estelle’s flip on it.

*small disclaimer for the first song… errr… it’s a little explicit… so if the kids are around, you might wanna tell them to run & play for 6 minutes and 15 seconds*

*

Everytime I find the meaning of Life, they change it
- Unknown

Luckily for us, Humans are designed to change. It’s through change that we grow and evolve and become better (and sometimes worse). But to expect that we’ll always stay the same is a fallacy. Even the most stubborn, non-changinist person in the world is changing every day (and I am calling ONE person into my mind that I know…) and how does he change? By becoming more stubborn and more entrenched in his old ways than ever. That’s still change though.

Last year about this time… I had received a bunch of baby shower invites that I summarily ignored. Just having lost the first love of my life (mommy) and not knowing what the hell was going on in my body made me bitter and angry. I couldn’t find any enjoyment in other people’s successes and happiness. And although it’s not Christian to be that way… it IS human. And it felt like these announcements were coming out of the wood work. EVERYONE was having a baby. EVERYONE except for me. And I’d forgotten the lessons I’d learned in the past. There was a time when EVERYONE was getting married. EVERYONE except for me… but I’m married today. You’d think that would give me comfort. But it didn’t.

Around this time last year a dear chapter Soror of ours passed away. Soror Delores. And I’d sworn off of going to funerals because I felt I’d had my fill of them for a life time. But Soror Delores deserved me being there to pay my respects to her. So I trudged out there in the snow to partake in her Ivy Beyond the Wall. But her service was so packed with people.. there was NO parking ANYWHERE. And circling around in Queens is never an easy task. By the time I found parking and jimmied my way into it past the ice and snow and made it to the funeral home, I’d missed the IBTW. But Sorors were still there, chatting and milling about.

One Soror came up to me. My dear Soror Alex (for whom my love and respect grows daily!) walked up to me and came right out and asked what some folks may have not wanted to. “I sent you an invite to Georgie’s baby shower and you haven’t responded – that’s not like you – what’s going on?” I had a choice. I could lie and say I didn’t get it. Or that I’m much too busy to attend. But before I could make a real decision about what I WOULD say… the truth came spilling out to her uncensored. “I can’t,” I exhaled….”I just can’t take it, Alex. EVERYONE is pregnant but me. I don’t know what to do and I’m not sure how I can continue along celebrating for everyone else and never for the making of MY family. It’s destroying me inside and I can’t even muster up enough real joy to put a smile on my face for everyone…” I caught myself right then. Oh LORD… did I just SAY all of that??? That’s the stuff of inner dialogue if anything!!! I thought she may have been like… “Oh… I see,” not knowing what to make of it… and maybe walked away. I forget sometimes that she’s a trained psychologist… and a GREAT one – one who actually cares. She sat me down and asked me what I’ve done to try to find out what’s going on — have I been to doctors etc? And at that point, all I’d really gotten were run arounds. Doctors who would diagnose then disappear or who would recommend watchful waiting. But I was feeling worse and worse. She listened attentively and then said she’d heard of a doctor that was in Brooklyn who was really good. She told me a few stories of Sorors she knew who had gone to this Doctor and now not only had they been pregnant but some were waiting on their next child. I suppressed the over excitement in my heart and said “let’s see before we get our hopes up”. She jotted down the name of the Doctor and phone number and the name of one of the success story Sorors and her number. She said, “Just try… you have nothing to lose. And feel free to call me if you need to talk.”

It’s no mystery that the number she gave me was Dr. Kofinas’ number. And we’re all mostly familiar with how this is turning out.

I bumped into her LS Georgie at chapter meeting yesterday who told me how excited she was to hear my status updates about the Post Op appointments and began giving praises to God. And looking at this lovely woman – the same one whose baby shower I’d hidden from going to, more inner dialogue creeped out, but i didn’t mind it. I said… “Last year at this time, I’d given up, Georgie…” and she quickly responded, “Oh… I’d NEVER given up hope for you!” And her assurance filled me with emotion. It was all I could do not to cry. Happy tears though…

One year can make so much of a difference. I’m a completely different person now than I ever was then and I’m so happy for it. I have renewed hopes and dreams that I thought were dashed to the ground because I had a lapse in faith – which is human. But THANK GOD for change and the ability to rise up from those hiccups and fear.

And thank you Alex and Georgie from the bottom of my heart. I’m not sure there will ever be a way for me to truly express how your presence in my life has made such an amazing difference. But PLEASE know that it has!!

*