Painful Memories

Something that happened to my niece recently who lives two time zones away, brought up some emotions in me that have been long buried.

I moved from Connecticut to California in 1987 when I was 27 and five months after my mother died from brain cancer.

In November of 1989, on a Saturday afternoon, I had intense pain in my side and my husband rushed me to the local hospital. It was discovered I was pregnant but bleeding internally somewhere. After an inconclusive ultrasound, I had exploratory surgery and they found it was a ruptured cyst. They stopped the bleeding, said hello to my little fetus, and closed me back up.

All of this was long before the days of cell phones, zoom, FaceTime, social media. And three hours time difference from my family.

I remember my husband calling my father to tell him. I remember asking him to call my boss to tell her I wouldn’t be at work on Monday. I remember talking to my sisters from the hospital.

I don’t know if I wished for my mother at the time but resurrecting these memories, I wish I had her then, even from a distance like my niece has my sister now.