My sister, Alexia, helped me to birth a baby tonight. Fancy her a new age midwife. As I recall our lengthy, beautiful conversation today, I am reminded of how necessary it was for me to have someone in the birthing room with me when I had my children. Giving birth can be such an intense, emotional, painful, traumatic experience. You need to have someone there, when during a brief moment of delirium, you feel like kicking the shit out of your doctor when a contraction hits. You need to have someone that understands the pain that you're going through and coax you through it. When I had my son at Georgetown University Hospital in Washington, D.C., my friend Corey was with me. I had a really hard time delivering Brandon. He was so big (9 lbs., 3 oz), and he kept backing up into my chest. I got to about six centimeters dilated and he just refused to budge. I had to have an emergency C-Section. Corey kept me sane throughout the whole process. I was in so much pain, I couldn't speak. I couldn't get comfortable. I was throwing up. Thank God for anesthesia. Who invented it? Where does he or she live because I have an overdue thank you card that I need to send to them. Such good dope. I mean GOOOOOODDDDD Dope. I can truly understand why people escape with drugs. Cause I was so grateful for that pain to go away. They pulled Brandon out and I didn't hear him cry. Even though I was doped up and high as hell, I did not hear my baby cry. I must have said something out loud and I remember I started to cry. I remember Corey whispering in my ear, "He's okay, Bridgette." I needed that reassurance. I needed her at that precise moment and time in the delivery process to let me know that my worst fears were unfounded and that everything would be alright.

Alexia did for me today what Corey did for me 18 years ago. At one point in our conversation, we both were boo-hoo crying. I mean a good and bad cry. A sobbing, snot dripping, deep chest cry. And it felt so good. I felt so connected with her in that moment. I felt like she had wrapped her arms around me all the way from New York City. I felt like I was at 10 centimeters dialated, tired, worn out, in pain and she came along and stood behind me, just when I thought I didn't have anything left in me. Just as I was beginning to feel like I would be pregnant forever and the pain would never stop. She picked up the phone today and her arms reached all the way from her dorm room in NYC and helped me to push through the pain that I was going through today.





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The Last Straw

Been missing in action for a minute. Though my intention is to write consistently, sometimes the circumstances of my existence pull me off in so my directions, I don't do it. My grandmother has been here for the past few weeks and she is suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. I'm trying, sometimes unsuccessfully to cope with that. My youngest has decided she wants to live with her father in Washington, DC. I'm trying to digest that. The environment on my job fluctuates wildly and swings like a pendulum from day to day. Each day, mentally, I write another page in this autobiography, not really knowing how the next word, sentence or chapter will unfold. The most recent chapter in my life has been my son and daughters high school graduation. I made it through. Didn't fall out, get arrested or breakdown. I was so happy and blessed to see them march across the stage. You can't imagine the sense of pride I felt.

MY graduation.

Not just their freedom, but MINE. Now I can finally DO ME. Get a life. Get a Man, perhaps. Exhale. I sure am ready to change lanes and I felt that I had been preparing them for this moment. Teaching them how to cook, wash their clothes..'yes ma'am' and 'no sir'. I want them to be able to survive with me and withot me. But they graduated and it just don't seem like they are moving fast enough.

I get up in the morning to go to work and leave them in the bed. I come home and they are planted like trees in front of the television or the computer. Dishes in the sink. Won't take the trash out. What the ??? Who are these people??

Because I am dealing with so many different things, I have to choose my battles wisely. So instead of losing my cool, I hadn't been saying anything.

But the other day I came home and I had to pee real bad. I made a mad dash out of the car, down the side walk, through the front door and to the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me, threw my pocketbook on the floor, wiggled out my skirt and happened to turn around and look down at the toilet seat and there, slap dab in the middle of the toilet seat was a dingleberry.

Aww hell naw!!!

So as bad as I have to pee, before I can even do that, I have to clean the toilet seat off. Somebody else's crap. I'm doing the "gotta pee dance", got pee running down my leg and I am madder then a junkyard dog. I was like, "That's it!" They have to go!!! I might be able to overlook the dishes in the sink. It may piss me off, but I can even give you a pass on the trash can overflowing.

But when I have to clean up your crap, before I can do my crap?? That is the last straw. I went off. I mean, how do you do that? My bathroom ain't that big. I mean, after you washed your hands (assuming you did so) and turned to leave, how could not notice your own mess? Didn't you see it? So...what? You just leave it there... for who? The Maid? I hate a nasty bathroom. The bathroom and the kitchen should always be clean, regardless. They know that.

After I had time to reflect on it, I realize it was bigger than doo doo stains on a toilet seat. It is more about accountability. They are so comfortable in their relationship with me, they feel like no matter what, momma's got it. To a certain degree, that is correct.

But NOT as it relates to cleaning up after them. All the more reason for me to push them out of the nest. The line has to drawn somewhere and even though it was a crude way for me to wake up and realize that I need my space, it was necessary.

I get grief from my religious friends because I frequently tell them that I "own my ****." (I love God, but I still curse sometimes.) By saying that what I mean is I am accountable for what I do or have done. No need in putting it off on someone else, or hoping someone else will own it for me. If it's mine, it's mine.

Well, here is life lesson #305 for my newly graduated young adults who are on their way out of my house: I love you. I will always be here for you and want the best for you. But the time has come for our relationship to change. But before you go, let Momma give you a few words of advice: 1. Put God first. 2. Say please and thank you. 3. Never quit one job before you have another. 4. Choose your friends like you choose your fruit. And last, but not least... OWN YOUR ****!



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Strong Roots....

I went on a much needed vacation last month to Washington, DC. My primary reason for going was to visit my grandmother (top center pic, 1978.) who had a stroke in November. So even though it was wonderful to be around kindred, it was also bittersweet because it was my first time seeing my grandmother since she got sick.

You have to understand. This is the woman that raised me. I called her Mommy and my mother by her name. I can remember her getting up at 3 in the morning to go to work on her first job, and not coming home until late in the evening when she got off of her third. I know her to be strong, boisterous, loud and intimidating. But when we arrived in DC at around 4 am that Friday after our long drive, and I saw her for the first time, it broke my heart. She had lost a considerable amount of weight. Her hair was completely white and she looked frail. Her demeanor was even different. It was like something had been taken from her; like she was missing something. But I couldn't quite wrap my mind around what that something was.

The days flew by very quickly. I didn't get to see all of my friends. I didn't get chance to go up to Georgetown or take many pictures. But I did get some seafood from the Wharf. I went to Ben's Chili Bowl, bought some bad ass shoes, and I got my hair braided up. Now that I think about it, I covered an awful lot of ground in a small space of time. It took me two days to feel normal again once I got home.

The best thing that happened to me while in DC...better than hooking up and reminiscing with old friends...better than the chili dog I got at Ben's Chili Bowl...better than the 3 pairs of shoes and two pair of boots...better than the jumbo shrimp and scallops from the wharf... better than my super tight fly ass braids..was the photo album my grandmother gave me. In it, were photos long forgotten.

As I turned each page, memories flooded back. Winter, 1977 in Washington. Snowball fights in the streets. My first trip to Disney World in 1978 (bottom, right). My Uncle Jessie (center pic) who wasn't really my Uncle Jessie, but my grandmother's "special friend." My first time visiting my father (center, bottom) and his new wife.

It was like looking at someone else. I found myself feeling like I was spying on someone else's childhood. But it was the most valuable thing she could have given me.

Memories like the corners of my mind...


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Where Has All The Time Gone?

In June, Brianna and Brandon will graduate from high school. I am excited/nervous/thankful/apprehensive/emotional. I keep asking myself, "Have I taught them enough?", "Will they be ready?"

I keep thinking about how far we've come. I look back and remember all the bumps in the road, the transitions, sleepless nights and even though it didn't feel good at the time, I am thankful for them all.

It makes me appreciate this time even more. As they get ready for prom, their senior trip. I just remember what it was like for me and I get excited for them. What I wouldn't do to be able to press rewind and go back for just a little while.

There is a rule that during the graduation ceremony you are not allowed to clap or shout for your loved ones as their names are being called. I think this is the craziest, most absurd thing I have ever heard of.

Whatchu mean I can't shout????


Child please. I am gonna be all over that audiotorium jumping and shouting. All up and down the aisles. As much hell as we've been through????? As many times as I have had to fast, pray and cry? You think I am going to be quiet??

God had brought us to far. He has been way too good.

Though far from perfect, my kids are the exception to the rule. They didn't drop out, inspite of. They haven't ever been arrested, in spite of. They going to college, in spite of.

Oh yeah...it's on.

They will probably have to carry me out of there. In fact, I am certain of it. I have no intent on being quiet. Graduation is a few months away, but when I think about it now, it makes me well up. So I know by the time that day comes, I won't be any good.

It is hard to believe, but life for all of us is about to change.





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Hope is Contagious.

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope!

- Senator Barack Obama



Hope



Hope is contagious

It doesn’t discriminate

Or care about circumstances

Out of control

It spreads

From black to white

To yellow and to brown

Up and downtown

Over rivers and through woods

It transcends and leaps tall buildings

Just to touch you

It is persistent

And relentless in it’s

Pursuit of you



Hope is determined



Hope says

"Yes, we can."

When it seems improbable

Hope says

"Yes, we can."

When worries seem insurmountable

Hope stands in the face

Of adversity and remains poised

Because it knows

The Secret

Hope has made its way into

Broken homes

It's spreading like an epidemic into lost marriages

And moving into lonely hearts

All across America

How dare hope

Penetrate me

Break down my defenses

The very audacity

Of hope to lead me to believe

That there is some pie left for me

Some blue sky left for me

The unmitigated gall of hope

Who does hope think he is

to inspire me to

Move my feet and my heart

And my mind

To a higher place

And a higher state

How dare hope make me

Dream impossible dreams

Of making ways out of no ways

Of an end to suffering and cloudy days



Hope has been gone too long.



You can’t find it like you used to

It used to be in the church

Each and every Sunday morning

Auntie's and grandmas and

Momma's and daddies

Passed hope around at the dinner

Table with mashed potatoes and peas

Hope used to sit in the back of the classroom

And oversee the education of children

But somewhere between Martin and Malcolm

The World Trade Center and Hurricane Katrina

George W. Bush and the recession

Hope vanished like a vapor

And now it ain’t just the lowly downtrodden

Who ain’t got no hope and

It’s not just the homeless mother of three

Who’s living in a shelter with no hope

It’s not just that brother who lost his job

And has 5 mouths to feed with no hope

You see

U got people

Making millions of dollars a year

With all the luxuries of the world

Every material gift you could possibly

Think of

But they have no hope

And If hope walked in the door right now

And wanted to reach out and touch me

I would knock Jesus down

To get to him

If hope showed up and said

"Come, on let’s go."

I’d leave without my pocket book

And my keys

cause it's ride or

die

If hope tells me

“Yes, I can.”

Then be it unto me

Just as

hope

has said.







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