Overcoming Death in 365 Days

The worst year of my life began in September 2021. Technically I didn't discover the truth until October but it began on Labor Day weekend. I went on a road trip with my sister and my spouse of 13 years met a woman who would change everything about our relationship. She lived in Westminster. He began dating this woman and seeing her everyday from that moment on. I was so oblivious to it at the time. I can see it now, but back then I was happy, and loved my partner. He was and is very good at hiding and sneaking, and after so many years a certain level of trust is established. I thought we were solid, happy, and focused on our family. 

But I was wrong.

In October I found out the truth from my daughters. Turns out their dad had been communicating and dating many people and was having conversations with these people in front of my kids. When they couldn't keep it in any longer, they told me what was going on. I confronted their dad and he tried to deny it. He tried to act like it was nothing, and even "promised" to stop seeing and dealing with the one woman he'd been dating since October. 

I was dumb enough to believe him.

By November we decided our family needed to move and establish ourselves in a new home. The one we were living in was very expensive and didn't have a kitchen. I was cooking most of my meals at my sister's house and it was a lot for both families. I also felt uncomfortable with the owner of the home we were renting as well, because he would be peeping into out windows and just gave me creepy vibes. So we decided to go camping for the month of November.

Nothing like nature to heal and reset the energy of Self. It was really hard to camp. I've done weekend camp and a week of camping but this was going to be for an entire month. I felt it was a huge sacrifice but we needed time to regroup and assess what the future was for us as a family. I was optimistic. 

But I was wrong. As my spouse continued to see the woman he said he'd stopped seeing. 

I was devastated. I was without a "home" and now left on my own with my kids.

I ended up going to my sister's house for the Thanksgiving week and stayed there. All 4 of us, staying with my sister, her husband, their 3 kids and my mom. It was a lot for them to take on, and I'm grateful they allowed us to stay with them for so long. 

In December I began to feel nauseous all the time. I assumed it was the flu that was going around and didn't think twice about it again. 

Then I missed my period. My breast began to feel sore and I knew I had to take a test. 

I took 3 pregnancy tests, and they were all positive. 

I was devastated. I had no stable housing, or spouse, or job, or anything to make me feel "safe".

When I told my kids father he said he didn't want it, and if it was born, something would be wrong with it. It made me so sad because he was angry and said those things out of anger, but it's how he really felt. 

I continued to stay at my sister's house through Christmas. Sometimes my spouse would get us a hotel room for a week and we'd take a break and allow my sister to have her home back. 

He continued to swear he wasn't seeing that woman and acted like were all going to be okay. 

By January, I was getting messages from the woman saying my spouse never stopped seeing her and he was even living with her. It crushed me. I had never done anything to this man but love him, and he used it against me, every time.

In February my daughters and I moved into the home we live in now. I was so grateful to have a stable home for my girls!! They were slowly losing their spirit from not having their own space and stability. 

All the while my spouse kept saying he stopped seeing that woman. However he never stopped dating, and I'm sure is still dating other people to this day. He was never really there for me during this pregnancy. 

I've been thinking of how that played into Solomon ascending before his arrival. While it was a random occurrence, and a mystery, I can't help but wonder if it's because he didn't want to come into this mess of a family. 

I never had my dad growing up and it affected my greatly. I always felt that if my own dad didn't love me, why would any man love me? I was able to heal from that trauma a few years ago, but this last year has really pushed me in digging deeper into this trauma. I try and detach and see the bigger picture and sometimes I feel the lesson and wisdom. But the death of my son has really made me plummet down the spiral. While I do my best to stay above water and accept what is - my heart is heavily heartbroken. 

Now my mind is thinking the reason Solomon left us is because he, Solomon, was the only reason I would try with his dad/my spouse again. 

This Friday is Solomon's funeral. Guess where it is? In Westminster. Ya, same city that his mistress lives in. He even picked that mortuary, saying his sister's friend worked there. Now that I think about it, maybe it's not his sister's friend but his mistresses friend. It's another knife to my already broken heart. 

All I can do is move forward. Keep my head up, like Tupac said, and move forward. 

So much to unload and process. I have 3 beautiful reasons to keep going - and that's my amazing daughters. They are the reason I am able to keep going, and keep processing. I'm doing my best to heal and grow from this year - for them. Because they deserve to have a happy and healthy mom that dies of old age, not a broken heart. 

It's been one year and all we can do is rise from here. 

Birthdate and Death Date

King Solomon's birthdate is the same as his death date. 1 week ago I felt the urgency to go to the Emergency room. I hadn't felt Baby Solomon move like he normally did and began to worry. At the same time I felt like he was preparing himself for his entrance into the world. I had cramps all morning long and figured he'd slowed down to conserve energy. I woke up later than usual and decided to drink some apple juice to stimulate his movements. But I felt no movement, so I then crunched some ice. Which didn't produce any movement either. I started preparing myself to go to the Emergency room, however my youngest was headed to Woodward Skate Camp and I had to wait for her to depart. Her dad was expected to arrive by noon, because the trip was 3 hours away, and check in was anytime before 4pm. 10 minutes after being picked up by her dad I received a phone call saying he'd broken down at the gas station. I had to rush over and pick them up, to then be dropped off at home, in order for my daughter make check in at 4pm.  I was left with no car which is why I took and Uber to the emergency room. I arrived Downey PIH at 2:20pm and they quickly checked me in. Within the hour I was in a room, with a nurse using a Doppler to listen for Solomon's heartbeat. I only heard mine, as did she. She them advised they were doing an ultrasound, and arrived with the machine within minutes. The technician began to scan my belly, as the doctor walked in. I heard her say "this is the chamber" and they looked sad. The doctor came around and said "I'm sorry" and nothing else. 

I began to wait but felt so lost as they kept asking "is there anyone we can call for you", and I had to keep repeating that everyone I wanted to be there was hours away. It was Sunday and everyone had plans that day and we're unavailable. Until I remembered my birthing coach and friend, Arlene. I didn't even think to call her since I wasn't technically "birthing" at that moment. I messaged her and she was so quick to arrive! 

I was advised I'd be transferred to Whittier PIH, because Downey had no labor and delivery department since the pandemic started. Arlene sat with me as we waited for the ambulance to arrive, load me up and head to that hardest moment in my entire life. 

On the way to Whittier PIH, my baby daddy called and I broke down in the ambulance. I told him there was no heartbeat. He cried and I did too. 

I was placed in a delivery room and greeted by a soft spoken woman who was extremely kind and compassionate. She explained everything to me with detail and allowed me to ask questions and concerns. I requested a second ultrasound to confirm that Kind Solomon's heart was no longer beating with life. Doctor Gray explained what would happen next, based on where my body was in the labor process. I was informed my cervix was dilated 2 cm and therefore could start on pitocin and begin the actual labor process. I asked if I could just go home and wait and they advised it would mean risking my own health. My own rational mind just accepted this and wanted to "get to the other side" of this experience. 

Everything moved really slow and was in my control. They allowed me start pitocin when I was ready, and it was on a slow drip, so the contractions built up like a "normal" delivery. 

By 2am, the contractions were intense and I was doing my best to lean into the pain and relax. I was in active labor. My mind on the edge of reality, never really thinking beyond the pain, the here and now of it all. By 3am I asked for IV pain meds and then my body began to feel immense pressure on my perineum. I knew I was ready to push. The pain medsade me so drowsy, I was in a realm that wasn't real. As if my body had stepped away and all that was left was the shell. I kepty eyes closed the entire time after that. The actual delivery of Solomon was so intense to recall at this moment. He was born at 4:25am, asleep to this world. They cut the umbilical cord and took him to the baby bed to clean up. Doctor Gray then helped me deliver my placenta, which is when he discovered 2 true tie knots. He held one up and said "I think this is what caused him to pass" and explained that the knots tightened and didn't allow any oxygen or nutrients to pass through. 

The nurse came over with Baby Solomon and handed him to me. I just held him and looked at him and cried. He was so heavy, and healthy, and perfect. After about an hour I told the nurse she could take him. It was so hard to send him away with her knowing I'd never see him again. 

Instead, he'd some back to me in a memory box with pictures, hand and feet prints and a teddy bear, which has been named Solobear. 

One. Week. Ago. 

My life changed forever and I'll have to live with this memory. 

I'll celebrate his birthday which is also his death date. 

No parent should ever have to "celebrate" in that manner. However, I'll honor my son every chance I get, until the day I die. 

Long Live King Solomon 💙👼

Postpartum 4 to 6 weeks

After birthing a baby, rest is vital. Especially when there's a human who is surviving off you and your body. Rest is crucial and the te flies because newborns need a lot of care and attention. However, after a stillborn baby, that rest is silent and empty. There is nothing occupying my mind or needing me, except my own body. A body that became a graveyard for my son. A body that betrayed the life of my son. A body that did the best it could to comfort my son, and failed. My body and womb are aching for my son. My womb cries to feel him, me breast ache to feed him and my arms are empty and void searching for him. I'm finding it extremely difficult to rest and heal and still experience postpartum pains, without the presence of my son. I think of the 4 to 6 weeks of required healing like a jail sentence even though I know I need this time, as does my body and mental health. 4 to 6 weeks is just time, which I've always said is a construct. 4 to 6 weeks is more like moments strung together to create a memory, and I pray I can create a stable, and whole memory for the sake of my son. 

Currently I've given in to Netflix as a distraction. My mind begins to wander otherwise and leads me down the path of shame, guilt, anger and sorrow. I don't want my son's memory to be filled with anything other than love, compassion, understanding and forgiveness, because he deserves that much. I'm learning to navigate an entirely new way of existing, and an entirely new "me". Because who I was died right along with him, and a new version of "me" was birthed. Now I have to get to know her, and watch her grow into her new life. Will the sadness ever leave her? Will she ever have joy? Will she ever smile again? I don't have these answers and I'm determined not to judge her as she explores this new journey. All I can do is love her, and maybe for the next 4 to 6 weeks, loving her will lead her back to her smile. 

Long Live King Solomon 💙👼