Written 2 years ago but I still love it

As I take a drag of this cigarette, the wicked smoke burns my lungs. The air is calming and cool. There is a smell of damp wood. The motion of the leaves battling each other in the wind is a sweet harmony to my ears. It helps me forget that I am alone. It is a song of the night. The dark sky brings me back to memories of childhood, laying in bed with the soft patters of the raindrops hitting the window. So safe, so comfortable. The heat of the night feels so pleasant with cool gusts of wind sneaking in with the warmth. I look towards the sky and breathe deep. The breath is intense as the sky lights up fierce with rolling thunder behind the flash. No thoughts of loneliness, hurt, anger or fear can hold a candle to the bliss of this night. I am not alone, I have the air. I am not scared, I have the trees. I am not tired, I have this enchanting sky. A smile appears upon my face as I see a rock turn its bland color of gray to a mysterious shade of black when the water hits it. Please last forever, this night.

First Time

continued from A New Start

The first time I held my son was surreal. At that moment, happiness radiated through me with ferocity. Nothing mattered. I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and I knew that I was changed forever. I now had the responsibility to be the best person I could be for myself and for my baby. All of the bullshit that led to this point withered away like ashes and this was my new start.

Preston is here and I am his mother. The greatest experience a woman can have and I am lucky to be able to say I am experiencing it every day. The fears and the worries never go away but my strength in knowing that I am doing my very best continues to grow.

The Incision

continued from previous post A New Start

The idea of having a C-section was horrifying. Because the hospital was particularly busy that night, I had approximately one hour and forty-five minutes to practically hyperventilate before I would be taken in to the room for surgery.

The doctor informed me that I was only allowed one person in the room with me. They wheeled me into the room where my mom would meet me before they started. I was lying on my back unable to move from the waist down and I watched every person, door, overhead light, and anything else I could see as it passed, practicing my breathing the whole time.

As I was wheeled into the room, I noticed a large number of people. The first to start talking to me was the anesthesiologist and he spoke as though we had been friends for years. This part had gone so fast. I was lifted from my bed and placed in another, given medication so I would not feel any pain, and groomed by a nurse. Yes, groomed. I heard the sound of an electric razor and at that moment, I was very embarrassed. “If I would have known it was necessary, I would have done the landscaping before I came.” I said, surely blushing. I got a few laughs out of the staff and this eased my nerves a bit.

My friend, the anesthesiologist, asked if I could feel some pokes. Apparently, I could not and he said it was time to start. My mom came in and I tried hard to focus on her as they were pulling and tugging and yanking. My body flopped around like a fish struggling for oxygen outside of the water. She was talking to me and I remember feeling what felt like a boulder on my pelvis and then a release of pressure. He was out! Preston was out and I heard him cry. A wave of emotion flooded through me and I just wanted to see him.

They cleaned him off and handed him to my mom. She put his sweet little face next to mine and I was in awe. For thirty seconds I was so happy and I still could not believe I was a mother. Then again, tugging, pulling, and yanking. I requested to be put out for the rest because I could not stand the uncomfortable pressure.

Labor

continued from A New Start

Being a woman, I always wondered what childbirth would be like. Having a person grow inside me and having the ability to give life to a thinking, breathing human was a fantastic idea. My high school invented a new form of birth control; an informative video called “the Miracle of Life.” We watched it my freshman year and I am sure the idea of having kids was the scariest thing I could imagine after seeing the video. All the fluids and sweating… Gross!

I went in to my last appointment before I would be induced to give birth to Preston. I must tell you these appointments were not fun and having a woman push her hand up and the baby down at the same time was uncomfortable and slightly painful. I knew it would be over soon and he would be here. I was terrified of the unknown and questions whirled around my head like a tornado on a path to destruction. Will I be a good mom? How do I change a diaper? If I cannot change a diaper, how can I have a baby!? Will my body go back to the way it was before? What will I tell Preston when he is old enough to ask about his father?

My mom and I headed to Mary Birch Hospital for Women in San Diego, CA. As we parked the car, I nervously grabbed my things, as I knew I would be a guest of the hospital for a few days. I checked in to the hospital and the nurse started the medication to induce labor. I had my team of supporters with me that included my mom/coach, my dad, my sister Krystle, my brother Mike, and my cousin Shawna.

After six hours of inconsistent contractions, the doctor came in and told me it would be a long night. She asked if I wanted the epidural and I decided it was the smartest option since I would be in that bed a long time. Over the period of 30, yes 30 hours, my team and I watched the monitor as the little needle drew what looked like little mountains every four or five minutes.

The doctor came and did the uncomfortable task of feeling my dilation. She informed me that they would be breaking my water. Screw Hollywood and their glamorous portrayal of childbirth! What happens to the water breaking in some dramatic public situation? My water could have broken while I was angrily yelling at my best friends ex for breaking her heart but no… they used what looked like a crochet hook to break it for me. A flood of liquid that I had to sit in until the nurses could come help me switch bed sheets. Nasty!

It was time to push! The nurse instructed me of when to push and I violently pushed as hard as I could, feeling my face turn shades of red and then purple. I am surprised I did not burst any blood vessels in my eyes or face because I was pushing so hard. I could feel Preston’s head on my pelvis bone and I knew he was not moving. As my coach and the team cheered me on, I kept pushing and as the end of the 2nd hour approached, I started throwing up stomach acid from all the pushing. My vomit was green. That was a first for me and I told the nurse to get the doctor; my baby was not coming out this way...

A New Start

I would first like to warn any readers that the content in this post might be graphic and not the most attractive of details. However, the content needs to be said for me and other women out there who have had similar experiences as I have.

I had scares before and even though I tried to convince myself this was the same situation, I knew I was lying. With a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, I reached down and proceeded to pee on the little stick. I paced back and forth and stared diligently at the transforming line. Plus sign. I picked up the directions, read them repeatedly, and even tried to read them in Spanish.

Of all the people I knew, I was the last person I could ever imagine to say the words “I am pregnant.” I knew I wanted kids and I knew that I would one day try, but this was just not ok. How could I let this happen? I would say to myself. I was just having fun. And with HIM? What was I thinking?

In the days that followed (the Accepting Period” is what I call it), I knew there was only one option for me. I would be a mother. I would no longer be responsible for just myself. The realization that I had no choice but to grow up hit me like a wrecking ball and I felt dizzy. Maybe that was just the morning sickness. Either way, I knew that it was time to become an adult. I had discussions with my parents who told me they would stand by whatever decision I made. I decided it was time to tell my siblings, all of whom were supportive right along with my parents. My brother’s both asked me the same question “Do you know who the father is?” Thanks guys.

The father. There are a few ways I can go about discussing this part and as much as I would love to demean this person, all I will do is speak honestly about his reaction to the situation. When I called him to tell him I was pregnant with his child, I was ready for him to be upset and definitely scared. Like a slideshow, I played all the different ways the conversation could go in my mind. Still, his reaction took me off guard because I was not ready for him to plead with me to have an abortion. The word never entered my mind even when I first saw the results of the test. When I told him no, he found other means to beg and plead. He said awful words that no women should have to hear from any man. He made sure I was aware of how differently my life would be and he reminded me I would no longer be able to do the things I was doing. No matter how scary all of this information was, the ideas did not sound bad to me.

I will never understand how a man can walk away from something he helped create. I will never understand how it became my “problem” or how it was suddenly my fault that I was ruining someone’s life.

This was not a “problem”. And my life was not and is not ruined…

It is just starting…


To be continued….

Absolute Bias

I had to write a paper for my current class Survey of the Performing Arts and I liked it so I though I would share. It has been edited for the sake of length and not so interesting information.

Being a fan of the performing arts dates back to when I was a child. The furious tornado of memories takes me back to the many hours spent with my sister and my cousins perfecting performances for our parents. I remember when I sat on the floor with pillows set up as a drum set; I hammered away with pencils imagining myself as the drummer of the band Offspring. As I rocked out in between the twin beds in my bedroom, my sister and my cousin frantically strummed their air guitars and sang along to the songs. For us, the music was all that mattered.

The most recent performance I had the pleasure of witnessing was a local Phoenix band called Vayden. The show was at the popular Scottsdale music and dance venue, Martini Ranch. The band consists of singer Curtis Casey, drummer Bruce Weitz, guitar player Armin Peterson and Mike Kazmer as a guest on bass. The best way to explain Vayden would be to use words like hard, rock, energy, fans, and emotion. When I think of an important word missing from that list, my cheeks get warm and I would assume appear crimson; that word being, sexy.

I had only seen Vayden perform on one other occasion. I was living in California and my friend Ashley informed me she and her husband would be driving to Hollywood for the weekend to see their friends in a band called Vayden perform. Ashley said it was decided my presence was requested. Before Ashley, her husband, and I went to the location the music would be played, we went to a restaurant where a few of the band members were sitting around a table eating. I was introduced to Bruce, the bass player (Jason Salomone at the time), and Armin. I sat down with no real idea what to expect and kept to myself a bit as I evaluated the conversation at the table.

After dinner, we went to the venue, a place I had never been but had always wanted to go. The Whiskey A Go – Go was a starting place for many famous bands and I was excited to be in a significant place in music history. The band had a surprising following to be traveling out of state and I was impressed when they started to play. Their hard rock and roll style caused everyone in the building to move, even if that was not their intention. As Vayden played, I watched each individual’s mannerisms as they performed and I understood why they had such loyal fans. They were talented performers and their emotions not only radiated through them, the music caused my emotions to radiate through me.

After that first concert, I was excited to see Vayden play again. I went to the most recent performance with the preconception that I would indeed be blown away again and I would be able to let go and rock out along with them. I was proven right. The second time around, I gave more of myself to the performance because I had an idea of what to expect. Vayden has proven to me and their loyal fans that they are going to go a long way if they keep delivering such colossal performances.

Being a part of their audience made me realize how much I have missed going to shows and how much the music and performance is a part of me. I recently became a mother and with that comes immeasurable responsibility. I know the choices I make will affect and influence my son and I hope that one day he will share the same love for music and the performing arts that I do. Although I almost envied the guys performing on stage, I cannot wait to see them again.

Running Shoes

I went on a treadmill adventure this weekend. As I was running, I looked down at my green and yellow Converse shoes (most definitely not meant for running) and I thought to myself how badly I needed a new pair running shoes. My big toes pressed against the inside of the shoe and although it was uncomfortable, it made me smile anyway.

Blind. Selfish.

As the anger flows through me like a river through a canyon, I repeat to myself over and over in my mind you are stronger than this. Nikki, you ARE stronger than this. I see the words and the actions that have taken place and I am betrayed. I am betrayed in silence. Is there a point to voicing the irate feelings radiating through my skin? What it will solve is the same nothing I attempted to solve before. 

I feel guilty for feeling this hate. I feel guilty because it is not who I am. I am a happy mother, sister, daughter, and friend. And I am angry for reasons that I cannot control. I cannot control other people and their actions. I cannot make someone read my mind or care the same way I care... or even put in the effort that I have. I am angry that she is blind and selfish. I am angry that he is blind and selfish. I see now that I have wasted so much time and effort. Years in fact. And I am done. 

Will it make me a bad person to be blind and selfish too? To choose to be this way? I am not afraid of my tears and as they trickle down my cheeks, blurring my vision, I repeat to myself I am stronger than this. 

Origins

Sometimes I find myself listening to a song and I wonder what the artist was doing at the very moment the song popped into their head and flooded out through their hands onto paper. Who was the song about, if anyone? And what fantastic experience was it that led to such emotional words? 

Let's take the Eagles song The Girl From Yesterday. What sweet woman was the spark to ignite this release? Or was there even a woman at all? And how about Naked by the Goo Goo Dolls...

"...You're naked inside your fear 

You can't take back all those years
And shots in the dark from empty guns
Are never heard by anyone 
Never heard by anyone..."

What were the feelings when this song was written? The human mind is so complex and I am blown away by the amazing things people can come up with. What, in time, will I come up with?

Long-awaited Salutation

I never aspired to be a singer/songwriter. In fact, the very sound of my unattractive singing voice may be objectionable to some. But I find in my first experiences with this guitar that I feel an urge to write a divine melody. And if this offensive voice of mine can cooperate, it may even include some lyrics.

When a song is playing through these white wires and the sound waves enter my ears, I feel it inside. The music, the words, the essence of beauty. I want to be a part of it. And although I am already a part of it just by the experience, I want to share the gloriousness that radiates through me with everyone I can...

"records are experiences.
things to submerge into.
cause then… they save you.
like connecting to the right person,

just when you are needing them most."
-Matt Nathanson