Writing - a gift and a curse

I believe I've mentioned in prior posts that I'm trying to write more. I have like 15 ideas for novels that I keep starting and stopping work on. I've already finished 5 plays - 3 of which I'm interested in actually staging when we return.

In any event, starting with the below, I'm going to publish the first chapter of three of the novels I've started and let all of you tell me which one to actually finish. I'll post one today, one tomorrow, and one the next day. I don't have names for any of them, so I'll refer to them as Mexico (below), Bali (the next one) and Cannibal (the third)....maybe now my wife will actually read them.


MEXICO

Chapter 1

Mexico - 1984

The sun shone bright and hot as Miguel Posada escorted his wife, Inez, home from church. She had long before grown too heavy from the weight of her pregnancy to ride the mule they usually used on the four mile walk. Normally, they would still be sitting in church, listening to the priest’s sermon and praying for a healthy child, instead of walking in the heat of the day. But today, she could not sit comfortably. The pain in her back was too much, and she felt faint.

It was the young couple’s first child, and everything was new, exciting, and frightening, all at the same time. Inez didn’t know what she should be doing, but she knew she could no longer sit in a hot pew between her husband and an old lady who smelled of rotting chilies. She motioned to Miguel that they needed to leave and, ever the doting husband, he obliged.

The walk back to their one room adobe home in the jungles outside the Ladas Mines in southern Mexico followed a well-worn, but seldom traveled, dirt road. There were not many buildings, or people for that matter, between the small town where they went to church, and where they lived on a small plot of land Miguel had inherited from his father. As they walked, Miguel pestered Inez with questions: “Are you okay?”, “Do you need to lean on me?”, “Should I go get help?”

“Cayate!”, she finally screamed at him, “Shut up!”. Wounded, but understanding, Miguel walked with her in silence. When they arrived home, he knew his sister – who had stopped attending church after she lost her husband in a mining accident – would be able to help his wife. Though she never had children herself, she was the midwife for their cousin two years ago and had experience in this area so foreign and mysterious to himself.

Two miles from their house, half way home, Inez fell to her knees groaning. Her breath quickened, and she gripped the soft dirt on the side of the road. Miguel kneeled beside her, rubbing her back.

“What’s wrong”, he asked, knowing the answer.

“I think the baby is coming”, Inez said, sweat pouring off her forehead, still out of breath.

“You need to get up”, Miguel said, trying to lift her to her feet. “We need to get home to my sister. She will know what to do”.

“No, I can’t”, Inez panted, crawling over to a tree and leaning against it, her knees drawn to her chest. “I can’t get up. I won’t make it that far. The baby is coming. I know it.”

“What do you want me to do”, Miguel said frantically, panicking. He removed his shirt – the only nice, white shirt in his possession. “Here, we will wrap the baby in this.”

Miguel handed her the shirt and began pacing. Then it struck him that the baby may be thirsty and he should get some water.

“I need to find water”, he exclaimed, looking at his wife who was now screaming from the force of another contraction. He waited for her to relax, and then said it again. “Do you want me to get you some water? Or water for the baby?”

“No”, she panted. “Go get your sister. She will know what to do.”

“I can’t leave you here alone”, Miguel insisted. “I want to be here for you.”

“You don’t know what you are doing”, Inez hissed. “Go get your sister. If she wants to bring water, she will!”

Miguel hesitated long enough for Inez to let out another agonizing scream before he took off as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran the remaining two miles faster than he had ever run before, completing the trip in just under twelve minutes in 100 degree heat wearing worn leather dress shoes two sizes too big.

“Mariel! Mariel!”, he screamed, rushing into his house. She wasn’t there. He rushed over to her house, adjacent to his. She wasn’t there, either. Out of breath and needing water for himself and the baby, he ran the 200 yards to the well. He nearly collided with his sister as she carried two heavy buckets full of water on her return trip.

Miguel grabbed a bucket from her and drank quickly and deeply.

“Miguel! Que hace?”, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Inez”, he panted. “She’s having the baby.”

Mariel dropped the buckets and ran towards the house. “Where is she?”, she asked when Miguel had caught up.

“She’s about two miles up the road to church”, he responded.

“What!? You left her alone on the side of the road?!”, she yelled, smacking him about the head. “Idioto!”

“She couldn’t continue. She said I should come get you”, he explained, trying to deflect her blows.

“Never listen to a woman going into labor! They are not rational”, she scolded. “We must hurry.”

Miguel and Mariel rushed back to the house, untied the mule, packed a few sheets in the pack and climbed on top. They smacked the mule and ten minutes after he had arrived, they were galloping back the two miles to Inez. Six minutes later, a total of thirty-six minutes after Miguel had left, they found Inez lying naked by a tree and heard the piercing cry of a baby.

Miguel leapt off the mule before it had come to a complete stop and rushed to his wife’s side. Her lower half was covered in blood, and she appeared to still be bleeding. She was weary, but softly comforting the crying child, oblivious to her own pain. She looked up at him and smiled.

“You have a daughter”, she informed him. “Maria Alejandra Mariel Posada”.

He collapsed to his knees and looked into the soft, brown eyes of his little girl. A small, white butterfly flapped softly in circles around her head as if looking for a safe place to land. She stopped crying long enough to look up at the new face hovering over her, then began shrieking again, causing the butterfly to make a hasty retreat. He laughed and cried at the same time, and began caressing his child’s head.

Mariel hurried beside them, took one look at Inez and her face blanched. She pushed Miguel softly aside and motioned for him to move away with the baby so she could attend to Inez.

“Inez, esta mia, Mariel”, Mariel began, “Como sientes? How do you feel?”

“I’m very tired”, Inez said softly. “Did you see my beautiful daughter?”

“Si, mi hermana, I saw her. She is muy bonita – very beautiful”, Mariel comforted, “you did very well”.

“It hurt”, Inez said. “It hurt more than I thought it would.”

“It’s done now”, Mariel replied. “You have a healthy baby girl with ten fingers, ten toes, and the right numbers of everything else.”

“She did not want to come into this world so quickly”, Inez whispered, drifting to sleep.

“What do you mean”, Mariel asked.

“She backed in. She tried to stay in the womb, but it was time for her to join us”, she explained.

Breech. Mariel had never witnessed a breech, but she knew from talking to other women that breech births were not good. When a baby backed into the world, they come out much bigger than when they come out head first, and cause much more damage to their mothers. Many mothers did not survive. They had told Mariel that if her cousin had a breech baby, first she should try to turn it around before it came out. If she could not, she should do everything she could to stop the bleeding and immediately call a doctor.

Mariel did not know how to stop the bleeding. She remembered once in an old movie she had seen on a date with her late husband that they applied pressure to wounds, but she did not know how to apply pressure to the birth canal. She took the sheets out of the mule pack and wrapped them tightly around Inez’s lower body, hoping that would help. She then covered Inez to keep her warm and provide some modesty, and went to speak to Miguel.

Miguel was cradling his swaddled baby, rocking her back and forth, cooing to her. “Miguel, your wife needs more help than I can provide”, Mariel explained. Miguel’s face went from proud to stricken.

“What do you mean?”, he asked.

“You need to rush into town and get the doctor. Tell him that Inez gave birth to a breech baby, he will know what that means”, she explained.

“Breech? My daughter is perfect, what do you mean ‘breech’”, he demanded.

“There is no time to explain. Give me the baby and rush into town. The doctor will understand”, she explained. Then, much softer, “your wife’s life is in danger, hermano, you must hurry.”

Miguel looked at her briefly, saw the seriousness in her face, hopped on the mule, slapped it twice, and rushed into town. As he expected, the doctor was not in his office. He hurried to the church where they were just finishing communion. He burst through the doors causing everyone to turn, startled, and stare at him.

“My wife just gave birth”, he yelled, “I need the doctor. My sister says it was a breech baby!”

The women in the church gasped, collectively, while the men jumped and rushed to Miguel. The doctor fought his way through the crowd until he found Miguel.

“Where is she now”, he asked.

“She is about two miles up the road, with my sister and my baby daughter”, Miguel explained. “We can get there quickly on my mule.”

“Does anyone have a wagon nearby we can use?”, the doctor asked the congregation.

“I do”, an old farmer replied.

“Good, go get it ready and bring it around front. We’ll need it to bring Inez to her home”, the doctor explained. “Where is my wife?”

“I’m here, mi amor”, she said, touching his shoulder.

“I need you to go to our house, get my kit, and meet us at the Posada’s. Can you do that for me?”

“Si, I will hurry”, she replied, rushing out of the church.

“We must go”, the doctor said to Miguel. Then, turning to the priest he said, “Pray for us, Father.”

The farmer was rounding the corner of the church with his horse-drawn cart as Miguel and the doctor exited the steeple. The doctor climbed into the cart as Miguel mounted the mule and they all galloped to Inez. When they arrived, the doctor quickly inspected the baby and, assured that there was no cause for concern, turned his full attention to Inez.

He unwrapped the sheets to get a better idea of the situation. He remained calm, wrapped her in clean sheets, and he and the farmer helped her into the cart. Trained in Mexico City, Doctor Alberto Ibarra returned to his rural roots to give back to the community that had recognized his promising young mind and banded together to send him to school. Without their contributions, he would not have attained a medical scholarship, so he was spending his career helping his community instead of chasing prestige and wealth.

Dr. Ibarra’s training included many hours and courses detailing the obstetrics profession. In fact, the bulk of his coursework to become a general practitioner focused on addressing the medical needs of a pregnant woman. He had attended many births, had even delivered a few babies as an intern, so he knew the severity of the situation. In a breech birth, the size of the baby is everything. Babies under six pounds usually are not life-threatening, but require antibiotics and palliatives to relieve the pain. Babies over six pounds cause tremendous internal bleeding that can be difficult to stop and quickly endangers the mother’s life. Most deaths during child birth are the result of breech babies over six pounds. If a breech baby is over ten pounds, without immediate corrective action or a caesarean, both mother and child are likely to not survive.

Inez’s baby appeared to weigh between six and eight pounds. Inez, however, was a small woman with a tiny build. A six pound baby delivered head-first would have been difficult. With a breech baby, Dr. Ibarra was amazed she remained conscious through the whole ordeal. That alone gave him faith that she would overcome the challenges ahead of her.

When they arrived back at the house, Inez was listless with shallow breathing and a fever, but was still alive. Dr. Ibarra and Miguel hurried her to the bed and immediately began cooling her with cold, wet towels. The doctor’s wife arrived shortly thereafter, and he gave Inez an injection of morphine, antibiotics, and a clotting agent to try and speed the healing process. Then they waited.

Hours passed. The sun set. Mariel fed baby Maria goat’s milk because her mother was in no condition to feed her. Everyone – Miguel, Mariel, Dr. Ibarra and his wife – huddled around Inez. Dr. Ibarra would check her vital signs every fifteen minutes, looking for any sign of improvement. She slept quietly clutching baby Maria tightly to her chest. Shortly before 11 PM, well after a full moon had risen high in the sky, Inez took a deep breath, smiled serenely, and then breathed no more.

Dr. Ibarra shooed a motionless monarch butterfly from Maria’s nose, gently lifted her sleeping body from Inez’s chest, and lay her in a small basket at the foot of the bed. Miguel was weeping quietly from his chair in the corner of the room where he had held vigil, refusing food or drink, while his wife failed to recover from her injuries. Sra Ibarra laid a sheet gently over Inez’s lifeless body. They quietly grabbed the basket with Maria and left Miguel to mourn in private.

The day of Maria’s birth would also be the day of her mother’s death. Maria weighed in at six pounds, three ounces, but she was big enough to cause her mother’s death. Though he would never admit to it, it took many years for Miguel to forget that his daughter had killed his wife. It wasn’t until he could see that Maria had Inez’s smile, and that her forehead wrinkled the same way when she was concentrating before he forgot that her birth had caused her mother’s death and began to see that Inez was still alive inside Maria. Maria was the last piece of Inez that Miguel had, and he would hold onto her as tightly as he could.