The Good Deed

Dear God

I know I am no longer religious, damn it, I’ll admit it; I’d begun to not believe in any sort of divine being- until now. The pain is so extravagant- there must be a God. This is not something that can just be. Its sheer might is searing through every sensory receptor, not leaving a single one behind. And just as it comes, it creeps away, slowly, but definitely. The relief makes your body feel a sense of satisfaction. Every muscle is put to sleep and embers of hurt are extinguished. Unfortunately, it’s all false pretense. Just when you thought it was over, and only then, does it return. It’s claws hold on so tight I convulse at it’s afflictions. My limbs paralyze to the exhaustion. The build up of the relentless suffering infiltrates every center of the mind. Every center that had so foolishly considered any hope. I think I’m going to die God. Help me!

Actually, death sounds appeasing. I mean isn't this place best known for that. The consumer of souls may as well cast a shadow over me, shading me from those striking florescent lights. White light; how unforgiving! What I hated most was the wash of this powdery shade thrown on to walls, tiles and linen. It simply diluted all color except for the crimson of flowing blood. My handlers hold on to me like I would escape. I wanted to be here you know; the choice was mine. The stick-on smiles that stretch across their faces only makes this exponentially unnerving. Especially so as their eyes have these demonic lenses of judgment and eternal disgust. Their morbid cold hands stroke my olive skin. An attempt to soothe, but what lay behind every stoke were goosebumps. I guess it is my skin's reaction to their fake expressions of care. It amazes me. How they chit-chat and laugh at inside jokes while I undergo such excruciating pain.

‘Okay, Izzie, it’s time to push’ 

I exert every iota of strength, but the torment has taken most of it away. My body lies here, exposed, deprived and lifeless. 

‘You can do it! C’mon. Push. Push. Push!’

 I have to get it out of me as my need to be free is now priority number one. My eyes blur to the tears that brims to the surface. The utter despair. I give it everything.

‘Good, good, keep pushing.’

 Keep pushing! Are these nurses insane? My exhalation runs out of air and my lungs can’t handle the responsibility of inhaling again. I collapse. Beads of perspiration pimple across my forehead. I can’t do this.

‘Push Izzie, he needs you’ 

He needs me. I’m… I’m a mother. A little being cramped up inside, yearns for my effort. He no longer can fit inside my womb. His kicks made that known to me. Sometimes they jerk me in a different direction, yet I smiled at the life I held inside. One day he will be out and crawl about. One day he would say ‘mamma’. One day he would run to me, crying for love. I lived in a fantasy, imagining this ‘one day,’ hoping that all ends well. Here I was knowing that the day had come. He’s here. Just like that, I feel the rejuvenation burst through my veins. I have to do this. This is not about me. Daniel needs me. I can do this God, I can.

‘Well done!’ His cry blares through the atmosphere. Rhythmic and audacious. He’s here and he makes his presence known. The nurses rush him away, but he’s back in just moments. 

‘Here you go.’

‘Oh, he's perfect! Daniel you’re perfect.’ The staff look at me with eyes widened to their surprise. How could so much trauma give me so much peace?

‘You’ve... named him?’ Her expression was uncalled for.

‘Yes,’ I clutch him tight. 

` We will leave you with him, but just for a few. They will be here soon, Izzie.’ 

I nod to them, but I don’t care. I look at him longingly. His little beady blue eyes, delicate features and fair blonde hair. I feel like I've been given a gift, one that is so precious. His fingers ball into a mini fist. He's so cute. The puny cub shivers to the new environment. I attentively pull him in close. He shifts ever so slightly, snuggling into my embrace and then falls asleep. He must be just as fatigued. His short breaths were the melody of life and I was in harmony with it. God. I get it now.

My past was one filled with a vibrant culture and brutal havoc. Eventually, havoc won and I had to make my way across the border. I called myself Izzie, I thought it was short for Isabella. It was not, but by the time I had understood that, it was too late. The semblance of a vivacious, confident woman would be my new form of being. I did not want to be the demure Isabella González anymore. America was a country for opportunity. If only my accent kept up with the change. Soon my brown eyes and ethnic skin sang a different tune. I was struggling and so was my faith in you God. 

It happens. When one is tested with so much, faith seems to be an impossible attainment. The void was always a black hole. No matter what I tried to do, all my achievements would be sucked into the vast darkness. The vacuum left behind would constantly stir my curiosity. My soul was always one that was lost in an oblivion. Why? Why do I feel so empty? Was it the death of my father, my youth drowning in poverty or was it just me? 

All that seems to be light years away as I cozy close to my little one. I can’t take my eyes off the guy. He's like a huge marshmallow that is spongy soft to touch and so light. A representation of immense glee. Gosh he is beautiful. I could take care of him. My mind giddily traverses to the future. Us devouring ice creams together. Clapping hands to gay joyful rhymes. Him sleeping on my lap. He’s mine. It felt right. The connection was like the pull of gravity. Strong and essential. Now, here in this hospital bed, I experience it. I understand how the world warms up to positivity and glows to beauty. As I stroke his cheek, the abyss of nothingness is instantaneously replenished- and I feel l alive!

***

Dear God

You need to help me out. I have got to get out of here. How can so much confidence dissolve into utter fear? My imaginary world, the fantasy; it’s about to collapse. I need to go. I can’t do this! What was I thinking?

‘Izzie, it’s time.’

‘Just give me a moment’ Daniel starts to cry.

The shrill pitch alerts my senses and even if I didn’t want to, I know what to do. My arms motion up and down, bouncing him as I pace back and forth. I soothe him. I did. The volume lowers to an absolute quiet. The silence fills the air, but my mind feels like a frayed radio. The promises I intended to keep have been completely redacted from my memory and I was now in survival mode. I need to storm out. Run away. I don’t know what it is, but as the plan plots itself, my feet feel like they have been swallowed by the floor. I cannot move. The nurses look at my frozen state and approach me cautiously. Two individuals pop up at the entrance of the room. God no.

‘Izzie, you have done a great job. Now it’s the tough part. The Andersons are here.’

The Andersons were great people. I could not have done this without them. They gave me everything I needed. Paid for the hospital charges too. They enter through the door. Mrs. Anderson makes her way towards me, but she doesn't see me.

‘Oh, look at him. Look at him John.’

I feel invisible. My hands hold him, but for some reason, they allow the two to have a good look at Daniel. 

“Izzie, thank you!’ I smile.

Mrs. Anderson rubs her palms together. Mr. Anderson attempts to take over my firm hold. 

‘Can I?’ He asks. What can I say? What can I do? I feel helpless.

My grip loosens and I take a step towards him; my limbs betray me. The tall, greying man carefully winds his hands around the little boy and cuddles him close.

‘Izzie, you have given us everything,’ He looks at Daniel. ‘Oh wow! Look at you. So tiny.’

I stagger towards my bed wearing a woeful expression, feeling repressed. You see, standing before me is a difficult picture. The baby is passed to Mrs. Anderson now. She looks like a porcelain doll. Her beady blue eyes, delicate features and fair blonde hair. I see it. The three of them together look the part. As they huddle in, the emptiness returns. The overwhelming loneliness dries my throat and stings my eyes. 

The pretty blonde glowing in delight, turns towards my blank face. 

‘We have decided to name him Michael.’

Dear God

Where are you?