My dearest Papi,
The last memory I spoke to you is my favorite and saddest. You were lying in a coma (plus your longterm dementia) when I spoke to you about it. I will repeat it here.
You were fine. You were not sick. It was a horrible ice storm. We had no power. You picked up your guitar (now officially mine) and you played a little bit. Then you handed me the 'Esteban', the silly guitar you bought from an infomercial, and tried to teach me a few notes by the flashlight. I attempted to play a few notes with you, horribly. I wanted to please you.
Then, midnote, the lights were back on (after nearly 48 hours), Mami cheered. I cheered. I'll never forget the look on your face. You were...crushed. The Moment was gone. I selfishly retreated to my computer and other material things.
I'll never forget the look on your face.
I'm so sorry I never finished I never finished "House of the Rising Sun".
I love you so much.
10/10/1942 - 10/11/2010
Monday, July 11, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
A Mother's Choice
As some of you may or may not know, my condition has worstened. And because of this on Wednesday, May 18, 2011, I will confront my Physician about one of the hardest decisions I will ever mae in my life.
Being a mother was something I wanted ever since I was little. Even then, I KNEW I was meant to be one. To feel a beautiful child grow inside me, to hold it for that very first time, to hear him or her call me "Mami" for the first time. To see him or her be cradled in their father's arms. To see tears in our eyes as we realize the beautiful life we created.
But being a mother also means to know what is best for this child. Who am I to determine my child's future? What if this miracle were to occur, would it be a high risk pregnancy? Would there be consequences to his or her's health? Would there be consequences to mine?
Some may quietly criticize my decision for a hysterectomy, but please consider the health of this unknown being.
Besides, being a mother doesn't mean biological. It means to be there emotionally, spiritually, lovingly.
It is a difficult decision, but for my health and his or hers, it is something I must do.
I am Stephanie Roman. Twenty-Six years old, no children. And I choose to have a hysterectomy.
Being a mother was something I wanted ever since I was little. Even then, I KNEW I was meant to be one. To feel a beautiful child grow inside me, to hold it for that very first time, to hear him or her call me "Mami" for the first time. To see him or her be cradled in their father's arms. To see tears in our eyes as we realize the beautiful life we created.
But being a mother also means to know what is best for this child. Who am I to determine my child's future? What if this miracle were to occur, would it be a high risk pregnancy? Would there be consequences to his or her's health? Would there be consequences to mine?
Some may quietly criticize my decision for a hysterectomy, but please consider the health of this unknown being.
Besides, being a mother doesn't mean biological. It means to be there emotionally, spiritually, lovingly.
It is a difficult decision, but for my health and his or hers, it is something I must do.
I am Stephanie Roman. Twenty-Six years old, no children. And I choose to have a hysterectomy.
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