Charles R Hawke

Watching this tribute to Johnny Cash brought tears to my eyes so many hidden feelings to the surface.



I have so many issues to deal with regarding my father, and I can't deal with them. I can't get the closure on them that I feel that I need to. you see, my father is dead. He died on March 30, 2004. Almost 1 yr to the day before Johan was born (Johan was born on March 28th). And when he died so many things were left unsaid.

My father and I, we had a hard relationship when I was younger. When I was born, I was HIS baby. Everything I wanted, basically I got, and in excess, from him. I wanted one cabbage patch doll, I got over 50. (and I wasn't even allowed to play with more than the first one - the rest ahd to stay in boxes). Growing up, I knew he loved me, but his way of showing it to me was in things. Not by his words nor hugs and so forth. I didn't care about the things, I just wanted to be told he loved me. He was very much his fathers son. His father, my Pop, was a very hard man, and was hard on my father, I don't know if he ever told him he loved him or showed him any love growing up. Like with me, it was just expected that you knew. And so my father grew up a hard person (who did have a soft side.) If you were his friend, he would give you the shirt off of his abck. If you did him wrong (whether that be a real or perceived wrong) he would make your life hell. And he had such a distrust for people that if you were his friend, you didn't remain his friend for long. He would drop you so that you wouldn't have the chance to do anything to him. He had 5 children. My three sisters and one brother from his first marriage, then me. The youngest of the first set is 13 or 14 yrs older than me. (I also have two brothers on my moms side from her first marriage) At one time or another in our lives, he has disowned each of us, for petty reasons and reasons such as personal differences. In doing so I think he screwd us all up royaly. Especially for me. When my father disowned me, my other brothers and sisters on his side, so an not to piss my father off really didn't and still don't for that matter - have much to do with me. They just shut me out and treat me like I don't exist. When he died, they rallied around eachother, not around me. At that time, my husband was in Honduras, my mom had to leave for work. I basically had to deal with it myself. That was hard.

(when I turned 19, I became pregnant with my son Andre.) When I told me father that Andre was mixed (he had never met Andre's father before) he disowned me then and there.)

When my father died, it was a Tuesday evening around 8:00pm. No one bothered to call me or told me anything until Wednesday morning - almost at noon. And I swear to you, the only reason that they called me then was so that I would sign the paper my oldest sister needed me to sign so that she sould become the executor of his estate. In the months before his death we had yet to talk, and he had had heart attacks, was in a horrible car crash and in the hospital for a long time, he was on dialysis, open heart surgery and had lost tons of weight. (he was easily 350 - 400 pounds, if not more most of his adult life, and when he died he was less than 180 pounds. For a man who was 6'9" and large boned, that is skinnier than skin and bones.) But for all of that, not once did any of them call me and let me know what was going on.

It just so happened that I called Karen, one of my sisters on March 1st to see how he was doing. And she told me he was in the hospital. I took a chance and called him up. He talked to me, and we made plans for me to go and visit him on Thursday. (It was a Tuesday that I called him). I hung up the phone and cried. I was filled with so many emotions, happiness, relief, and just a sense of "I finally have my father back, after 10 years". After 5 minutes or so, the anger that I had, for him acting like nothing had ever happened, it just went away. I didn't care that he treated me like shit these past 10 yrs. It was all over and done with, and I was his daughter again. I went to see him, and if I had passed him on the street, I wouldn't have known who he was. He had changed, he was no longer this huge overbearing rough man, but now this broken down old man. It upset me to see the change in him. We talked for a bit, but because he had just gotten back from dialysis, he was exhausted, so I told him I would let him rest. When I left I gave him a kiss on his forehead and told him I loved him. He told me he loved me too. I saw him the following Sunday, the 7th. I took Mickey and Isa to meet him, and I got a picture of them with him. Isa was just 3 months old, and Mickey was 13 months old. He played with Mickey for a whlie, and talked to my mother about how she looks just like I did. That was the last time I saw him. (The picture above is from the last time I saw him - with Isa and Mickey) I was going to bring him food and eat dinner with him but I got sick. And so as not to get him more sick, I didn't go and see him. I called him a couple of times. But normally he was either sleeping, or out of it becasue of the drugs, so I didn't call very much. Three weeks later he died. I have so much resentment - actually not so much towards him, but towards Connie, Karen, Valerie and Tommy, and how they all treated me when it happened and since then (hell before then too for that matter). I so want to tell them how I feel. How DAMMIT, I AM somebody. I am blood. I have done nothing to deserve to be treated like I am a nobody. And for the four of them, who don't really have much, they sure do think that they are better than everyone else.

I am angry at my father because he left me. First because he allowed his last 10 years of his life to pass without letting me back in his life. Ten years - in that ten years so much had happened. I had 4 children, married twice. So much had happened that he never got to know. Ten years without my father to talk to from the age of 19-29. He missed out on knowing my children, who they are, and they missed out on knowing Pop Pop. All of my neices and nephews got to know him. They grew up with Pop Pop in their lives. He wasn't there when my first husband beat the shit out of me, and afterward, I let him back. Because he was so much like my father, I think I looked for my first DH's approval as a substitute for my fathers. It never worked though. My father missed out on so many conversations that I wanted to talk to him about. I missed out on ten years of hugs and I love you's. I missed out on him meeting Lale, and getting to know him. of giving him the chance to be there for me when I got married.

I am angry at him becasue I have so much to say to him that was left unsaid. And because he is gone, it can never be said. And that is hard. Usually those feelings and thoughts stay locked up deep down, but sometimes a sight or song or smell or memory will trigger the floodgates. And the Johnny Cash video tribute did it for me. I remember him listening to Johnny Cash when I was younger. No sooner did the song start, the tears did too. But it has been a while since I have cried for my father. I guess it was time to revisit these thoughts again. To cleanse myself again for another while.

I guess there is only one other thing to say. It is to my father.

Throughout my life - even during - no especially during - those ten years I loved you, and forgave you. And still I love you and miss you, and wish for one more hug, one more I love you - just one more minute with you.

One of these things are not like the other...

I saw this truck the other day and I was reminded of something from my childhood. Who remembers the old Sesame Street? Before all of the "upgrades". You know when Cookie Monster still ate cookies (and only cookies) and Bert and Ernie were just roommates and not secret lovers. (Although I always thought that they were brothers...)

Remember when they showed you a group of items and played the song about which one doesn't belong?

One of these things is not like the others, One of these things just doesn't belong, Can you tell which thing is not like the others By the time I finish my song?

Anyway, I was leaving an office after dropping off some paperwork, this truck caught my eye. Let me exlpain this truck to you, and you will se why it was odd that it caught my eye. It was your normal everyday "landscaping" pick up truck. You know - it was a white, four door Ford pick up with the company sign on the front door. I couldn't figure out what it was that caught my eye. Then I read the sign. In big white letters on a green background it read:

Survival Training. Seals, WWII, Tree Removal Service.

Instantly Sesame Street came to mind.

Family - by choice or not, they are yours

You know, I have this sister in law, and I don't know what to say about her. She is one of those rare breeds that every time they open their mouth crap comes out. On one hand I can say she is a sweetheart and means no harm, but on the other hand, damn, she is an adult, she should know to think before she talks. For as long as I can remember I have had to deal with her mouth, and her insults. And I am not the only one either. I do my best not to be anywhere near her or my brother, because I don't need to hear her crap, and I don't want to go off on her one day and say more than I should. Let me give you some examples, then tell you about my latest dealing with her.

Last year when Johan was born, on his right hand, his pointer finger and middle finger were fused together, and it was smaller than the left hand. He has something called symbrachydactyly. Which means that one hand is smaller than the other, and his two fingers are fused, and his arm and pec muscle is smaller than the other. He has a mild form of it, his hand if you look at it, you can tell it is smaller, but the length and his pec muscle you really can't tell unless you are really looking for the difference. (you can see a picture of his hand above - before his surgery) Anyway, a couple of hours after he was born, and they were doing x-rays, and I had no clue what was wrong, if anything, other than his hand was small, and it had fused fingers, so I was semi a mess, wanting my baby with me, and wanting to know what was going on. Well I was talking to my brother, and telling him what was going on, and what Johan's hand looked like, and he was repeating it to his wife, and her comment to him was to tell me that this is a sign that I should stop having babies. That this one has a birth defect, and any baby I have after this one would have a birth defect worse - basically each child would have more and more problems. What a bitch. If she would ahve gottne on the phone then, I really would have said something to her, with my hormones and everything. But my brother either thought that I didn't hear her, or was smart enough not to repeat it to me.

At 20 weeks, with this pregnancy I had low fluid, and had a grim prognoses for Jolani. I actually was told that I should really think about terminating her. (never would do that - no matter what the doctors say). Well my mother called her and told her that I was on bed rest and what not, and she told mom that she was going to call me. Well I called her first, just so that I could have control of the phone call, and she asked me what was wrong. Although my mother told her, so that I wouldn't have to deal with her, I still told her about my fluid being low. Dumb ass that she is said to me "Well maybe you didn't drink enough water before your sonogram, so you didn't have enough fluid in your bladder." Thank you Dr. Angie. DUH the baby doesn't live in the bladder. The low fluid is the amniotic fluid. Each time you talk to her it is one thing or the other.

So anyway, on Tuesday afternoon, I called them to tell them that I sent a picture of Jolani to their email, and asked me when. I told her about a half an hour ago. Oh she said. I am sorry that we didn't call you earlier, but we were on our way to NC for the weekend. I said call me for what? To tell you congratulations on the baby. Um, Angie, I just had the baby today. No you didn't she said, Scott (my brother - who, for future reference, I call Dickie - his name is Richard Scott) told me last week that you had your baby. I said well I should know, I pushed her out, with non working epidural just a couple of hours ago. Oh she said. Well is she healthy. (I knew this was coming) Yes she is perfect. She have all of her fingers and toes, Yes Angie, she has them all. She is perfect. Are they all seperated and everything? UUGG, couldn't you have just stopped while you were ahead? My mother said I should have told her "no they are all fused together, you know I give birth to ducks" and when my mother told her husband Rob, (who is a sweet guy - but with a rough exterior and who seems to be an eternal grump - but really isn't ) he said I should have asked her "Were you always an *sshole, or did you learn that growing up?"

So these past few days this last conversation with her has really been playing on my mind. I think I am going to say something to my brother about her. That way I don't go off on her, and he can do whatever he feels he needs to do. I am just going to tell him that I am tired of her mouth, and that it isn't long before I let her know how I feel. I am not going to ask him to do anything or anything like that. I just am giving him a heads up. If he wants to say something to her before hand, that is up to him. But I have had it. She is 35+ yrs or so, she is old enough to know better, and I am tired of everyone else biting their tongue when it comes to her, and everyone else just sucking it up. It is about time someone informed her of what she is doing, and held her accountable for it.

And baby makes 3 - no wait, she makes 10

Fast Facts:
Jolani Gisel - born 7-25-06 at 2:17pm. She weighed 8lbs 8oz, and was 20.5 inches long.
Ok, here is the birth story. I brought a notebook with me to take notes through out the day.

The Night Before:

Oh my goodness, what a day today has been! It actually started last night. Knowing that I had to get up at 4:30 to get ready to leave by 5:00 to get to the hospital by 6:00, I had a plan to go to bed early and get a good nights sleep. Well my plan for Monday night was to go somewhere to eat with my husband, just him and I and to just enjoy the evening with him, before the baby comes and there is no time for a while. But because he got out of work late and I didn't want to drop the kids off we went by McDonalds for dinner. No problem. I ordered a grilled chiken sandwhich meal with no lettuce, no mayo, extra mustard, extra pickles. Oh yeah and a slice of American cheese. Well we got home, I got the kids settled at the table, and while Lale went to take a shower I sat down to eat. I eat my french fries, then go and get my sandwhich. And I couldn't wait to eat it. I opened the box, and looked at my sandwhich. First thing I saw was mayo and lettuce. So Iopened the top, used the lettuce to wipe off the mayo, then as I went to close the top I noticed something else. My sandwhich had came with: lettuce, mayo, mustard, pickles, swiss cheese (nope not american) but no chicken. How the hell do you get a grilled chicken sandwhich with no chicken? I looked for a receipt to call them back and let them know, but no receipt. I caled information to get the number, but because they are a franchise, they aren't listed under the name McDonalds, so I couldn't find the number. I was so frustrated and hormonal that I started to cry because I had no chicken in my sandwhich and because I couldn't get ahold of McDonalds. I don't know what was wrong with me. Then at around 9:30ish I started to get hungry seeing as how I couldn't eat my chicken sandwhich and all. Well Lale was hungry too, and he wanted pizza. So I ordered a pizza and some fried mushrooms. Once it came, I had the mushrooms and a slice of pizza, and he ate the pizza, and around midnight we went to bed. Right after we fell asleep, our houseguest from hell began his calling. He was off work and needed a ride. So he called, and called and called (since no one answered) until finally Lale got pissed enought that he got up and answered the phone, and told Fermin that he had to find his own way home, even if that meant walk, and to stop calling. So he went back to sleep (and after that, he tossed and turned most of the night and really didn't sleep much the rest of the night) and I tried to sleep, but just layed there. Then about an hour later Fermin comes in and is so mad he is slamming doors and stuff. I just layed in the bed and laughed. Anything that pisses him off is super funny to me. Anyway, so that was a little after one, and right after that I fell asleep. But I didn't sleep well. I tossed and turned and just kept waking up. Then at 3:00 I woke up with this nasty burning taste in my mouth. Ugh, now I have acid reflux. How nasty is that. I got up, drank some water, brushed my teeth again trying to get rid of the taste, but I couldn't. After that I couldn't go back to sleep. So I got up for good at 3:00Am after about an hour and half of horrible sleep. Can't wait to start the day.

Induction Day - a timeline:

• 6:00 AM - we have arrived!! We get to John Hopkins, and get all the insurance stuff and what not taken care of.
• 7:00 AM - I am in my room, and they check me to make sure that I am still ok for induction. I am now 3cm and 30% effaced - on Friday I was 2cm and 50% effaced. They hook me up to all the IV fluids and what not, and while I wait while they do shift change, me and Lale each try to get some sleep.
• 8:00 AM - still no pitocin, all hooked up and just waiting. Lale is right next to me snoring in the rocking chair - his neck is going to be killing him in a bit the way he is sleeping - I can't sleep to wel in this bed, it is uncomfortable, and the spot where my but hits the bed is super hard, so my but keeps going numb. Hopefully the pitocin comes soon.I am bored and want to get this party started. (words that will come back to haunt me)
• 9:00 AM - finally the pitocin is started, but nothing really happening. It is on its lowest dose, and will be upped every half hour or so - the burse says. I feel a bit of cramping, but that is about it.
• 9:15/9:30/10:00 AM - Pitocin is upped.
• 10:10 AM - 3-4CM and 50% effaced. Contractions are now 1.5 - 3 minutes apart, but not strong at all. Menstral cramps are more uncomfortable.
• 10:20 AM - no contractions, sitting here watching Spanish Talk shows. They check me, no change, and the midwife says that when the baby drops some they can break my water. Right now she is to high, but once they break my waters that should get things moving. Lale said that she would be born around 1:00Pm or 3:00Pm. I said 2ish.
• 10:30 or so - we begin the arguing of names that we want for this little girl. I am set on Gabriela Jolani, but I can be flexable. I also like Alma Jolani. He doesn't want to use Gabriela because Sendy's middle name is Gabriel. Names that we are discussing right now are Alma Gisel, Alma Jolani, Gabriela Gisel, Gabriela Jolani, and some crazy names that he keeps throwing in that I automatically veto, without even having to think about it.
• 11:50 AM - the baby has dropped because we had to move the monitors down to keep track of her heartrate. I ask the midwife to check me to see if they can rupture the waters. She does, they do. I also ask for the epidural, knowing that normally after they break my waters, and I get the epi, it all comes fast. The contractions immediately get stonger and I can now feel them. Good. Now things should get moving. I am ready to have this baby.
• 12:30 PM - I get the epidural. They put it in, and I begin to feel the heaviness and the numbness in my legs. Although my left leg, not so much. They tell me to roll over onto my left side to help the medicine go to the left side more.
• 12:45 - 1:00 PM - WHAT THE HELL?? This crap hurts. I am not shaking yet, so I shouldn't be in transition, although I certainly feel like it. The contractions are hurting like hell, and I feel like I need to push. When I push, there is relief on the pain. What is my dialation?? I get checked. You are a 5-6. What do you mean 5-6??
• 1:15 - 1:30 PM - contactions more painful. I can still deal with them, but man they hurt. Pushing during them is a relief though. They call the epidural guy to come out and up my dose of epidural.
• 1:30PM - Epidural is not working. Pain is crazy hurting, and even after they give me a boost, plus extra meds that work faster, the only thing that happens is my right leg goes more numb. I am having horrble contractions and Lale is trying to joke with me to make me laugh. Wrong thing to do while your wife is in pain. I have tears rolling down my face it hurts so bad, and he is calling me a crybaby trying to make me mad to help me not think of the pain. Jerk - he just makes me cry worse. Doctors are in there talking to me - I have no clue what they wanted. All I remember is telling anyone who talked to me "yeah yeah yeah, whatever. do whatever you got to do I dont care. Just shut up"
• 2:00 - 2:17 PM - Pain is unbearable. I have to throw up but as I am leaning over the bed into the trashcan here comes a contraction, and it takes my focus away from the throwing up and I have to focus on the pain. I am so mad, I yell at Lale that all I want to do is throw up so I can feel better. It wasn't until after the baby that I learned the pain from the coming contraction was causing the nausea. I am now 8cm, and have to push. I don't care, I am pushing. I am yeling and screaming and tears are rolling down my face. I am now 10 cm and they want me to push. I can't. I tell them I have to go home. I can't do this anymore. She is crowing, and I am trying to push so bad that I am pushing on the stirrups and causing my legs to close. Um, just so you know, closing your legs, doesn't help get the baby out. They grab my legs, and yank them back, Lale is pulling on my hand, so I can pull back, and she is crowning. I literaly see stars, and the pain is horrible. I am having a hard time pushing through that, and for a good 60 seconds all I feel is myself tearing in all directions. That 60 seconds felt like a good 60 minutes. (and by the way, I didn't tear at all, it just felt like it) Finally thre is a pop, and her head is out. Take a breath and do it again. Here come her shoulders and her body. WOW, what a relief. Look down at her, they keep saying. I can't I tell them. I have my head under the pillow, and I am exhausted. I only pull my head out of the pillow to ask Lale why isn't she crying? There are to many people for me to see what is wrong with her. Oh there she goes, what a beautiful sound that is. She is beautiful, she looks like Isa in the eyes, the mouth, and in her expression. And the fact that she has so much dark dark hair. 9/9 apgar stores both times.
• 2:17 - 2:30ish - What the hell are they doing down there? Stop jumping they tell me, I have been through this before. Yeah, but with an epidural, I never felt it. They are checking to make sure I didn't tear or anything, but it feels like they have a good 6 or 7 hands up there and it is raw in there, and it hurts. Please hurry up and vacate the building please. With the epidurals before I missed all of this checking and everyhitng. I knew they were doing stuff down there, but never knew nor felt what. Until today. Um yeah. OUCH. Finally they are done, and I deliver the placenta. I am so tired, I just want to look at the baby and go to sleep. But she still doesn't have a name, and the nursery lady comes in and asks, so I look at Lale and he says Jolani Gisel. I say ok, that is fine by me. So that is her name. Jolani Gisel. And she is beautiful.

The Worls is Run by 10 yr olds

38w 5d
5 days left

UUHHG I feel like crap today. It started Tuesday night. I went to bed coughing up a bunch of gunk, and choking on it half the night, not getting to much sleep. That on top of my foot pain, made for a miserable day. I spent most of the day curled up in the bed dozing. My mom was so sweet though, she told met that she had a z-pack at home that she would send me with my brother. However what she thought was zythromyacin turned out to be a Ketek Pack, which pregnant women can't take. After debating with myself, I finally decided to call the OBGYN office to have them call me in something safe.

So this morning I called what my grandmother calls the Mickey Mouse Doctors. (You would think that John Hopkins Hospital would be an awesome hospital to deal with, being world renowned and one of the best hospitals around. Yet because they are a teaching hospital, they suck in alot of ways.)

Anyway, I call the only number they give you, which is like an answering service number and when the lady picks up we have the following conversation : (I am in green, she is in blue)

I need to leave a message for the high risk OBGYN's office.
They aren't in until tomorrow.
Is there anyone on call??
Oh!! (full of suprise at that question) I don't know. Hold on.
(what the hell - what do you mean you don't know???)

So she comes back, and asks me my problem. I explain to her that I went to my PCP the other day (the truth) and that I have a Ketek Pack here to take for my bronchitis, and that it isn't safe for pregnant women, and I need someone to call in something safe for me to take. (also the truth, I just didn't elaborate and mention that it was from my mom). She asks me for my information to pull me up in the computer and then asks

Are you pregnant. (Um, duh, if i wasn't why would I be calling you?!?!)
Yeah, 38w 5d.
I see you have an appointment tomorrow morning.
Yes, but I need my meds ASAP so that I can be ready and well for my induction on Tuesday.
Oh, are you a patient?

(No, I just make appointments at the High Risk OB office for the hell of it - I mean this is John Hopkins, get your act together. - I feel bad for the people who travel from other countries to be helped out here. Can you imagine how confident they must feel to let these doctors work on loved ones.)

So she tells me she will have the nurse call me back. Oh Joy. I wonder if it will be Kendal, the wonderful nurse that I had to deal with 2 weeks ago. Two hours later the phone rings, and who should it be? Nurse Kendal. The nurse with attitude issues. You would think in dealing with high risk pregnant women, this lady would have a better attitude, but no. She yelled at me because after a long explanation of what I wanted and needed and so forth, she finally said she would call in the meds for me, just to give her an hour or so. I said thank you, then had the audacity to ask her if anyone would be calling me back to let me know that the Rx had been called in. She told me I could call the pharmacy myself to find out when it would be ready. What did I think, that she was not going to call it in? Seeing as how all my other doctors call the patient back to say yes it has been sent, I didn't think it was that outrageous of a question. Guess I was wrong. That was at 11:30 AM

Come 1:45 PM I called CVS and told them that my doctor was supposed to call in a z-pack for me, and did they have it yet. The lady who answered the phone said no. So I waited a little bit longer, and called back at 2:30PM. A different person answered the phone this time, and I again asked if my prescription was there. Nope, not yet. So I hung up, called Nurse Kendal back, and was told that she faxed it, and that she would fax it again. When she said she faxed it, it got me thinking that I wasn't super specific when I called CVS, and maybe I need to talk to them like I talk to Andre - explain what I want, but in very specific terms. So I called them back, and the 2nd lady answered the phone. I said that I just called to see if my prescription was there, and could they please check again because my DR said that it was faxed over. So she puts me on hold, and comes back. Low and behold on their fax log they have my prescription as being faxed in almost 2 and a half hours ago. I guess asking if my prescription in there means something different - or maybe it is to hard to check the fax log UNLESS you ask them speficically to do that.

Andre Update:
I talked to Andre last night, and he told me that there is a dance coming up soon, and he already has a date. her name is Bonny, and he thinks she is from New Jersey. He heard that she was going to ask him, so he asked her first.

Oh yeah, and he wants some bottled water. Could I please mail him a 24 pack of bottled water. He said the water there tastes to much like dead ants. How he knows what dead ants taste like is beyond me. Can I tell you, unless he can convince his Uncle Dickie - who lives about 15 minutes away - to bring him some water or if he uses his $8 to buy some, he is not getting any bottled water. It costs way to much to mail the water out by mail, and he is to far away to just bring it to him. He is just going to have to keep drinking dead ant water.