I want to send a message-Live every single moment of your life to the fullest, embrace every experience and never look back.
My story is one that I was told. I was told the story by my father who lived through it with my mother.
Mom and dad were the fairy tail couple. They fell in love in high school and were voted prom king and queen, one day I hope to be prom queen. They went to college about an hour away from each other and conquered the dreaded long distance relationship. My parents are strong...were strong. After college they moved in together, into a small apartment in New York while mom majored in psychology and then received her bachelor's degree. Dad worked in an art studio and published some of his work in small studios, he is an amazing artist. Mom is smart and dad is creative...dad is creative and mom was smart.
They moved into a small house in the suburbs and that is where their magical fairytale took way. Every morning they woke up to each other, and their smiling faces. They would share a quick peck on the lips and then my mother would dance her way into the kitchen to whip up something for dad. He took his time but eventually came into the kitchen where a restaurant quality plate would be waiting for him. They would share breakfast and then both depart one into the city, the other to the studio. It went on like this for some time and then my mom got pregnant.
My mother was a queen and will forever be. She was beautiful when she was pregnant. She had it all, the perfect pregnant body, the glowing skin and the thick midnight black hair that she kept in a messy bun with a few pieces gently falling to the sides of her face.
The first five months carefree and simple, they were almost too perfect. Once she was in her third trimester things did not seem as pretty. The once messy but gently kept hair was now not even brushed every day. Instead of waking up to make breakfast she slept through breakfast always being tired. She was lethargic and always uncomfortable. But still, even through all this, her love for dad never ended. They had a connection that is so strong, I think that it is the reason that I am here. Their love could fight through almost anything.
As the weeks continued mom got even weaker and weaker. She went to the doctor and was put on immediate bed rest so dad became the one who needed to wake up to make breakfast. She would thank him every day and with all of her might put on a smile but could not finish the food. When she did she would run right to the bathroom after, getting sick. She was not doing well. Mom was in danger and dad knew that. They did not know what was the cause of it all. She loved being pregnant and thought that she could handle it. But the discomfort and the exhausting was too much along with the the once and awhile sharp pain to her stomach that would send her hunching over in excruciating distress.
Early one morning, mom went into labor and an ambulance came to pick her up and bring her to the hospital being that she could not pick herself up to get into the car. She was rushed straight there, my parents hands clenched the whole ride there, eves locked. Mom was smart, I could tell that she thought something was wrong but she would not say anything. Instead she kept her eyes locked on dads as if it was the last time that they could have a gaze so perfect and so still that it was like the world had stopped, the same as the first time they had met.
Once the ambulance reached the hospital mom was rushed on a bed to the operating room. Dad running at her side the entire time, mom had started to bleed and that was not normal. She was in pain and was having trouble breathing and they had to giver her an oxygen mask. The doctor started to look around and found something. “The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby's neck, it is blocking the connection creating a huge clot. The baby is not getting the nutrients that it needs and you have a huge backup. We need to do something quick because the baby is suffocating.”
The doctor put his hand on her arm and said gently, ‘you or the baby will survive. Not both. I’m sorry.” My parents looked at each other. They had the exact same though in their minds. They had lived the perfect love story. They had everything they wanted and knew that they would always love each other, even if it meant being with each other.
I came into the world on April eighth, five pounds six ounces, bright red and screaming, they named me Lace. My mom was named Lacie.