Signs of You

Last night I laid in bed and my stomach itched. I went to scratch it and for the first time since you died I touched the stretch mark I got when I was pregnant with you. With each one of your brothers and your sister it got bigger but it started when I was about eight months pregnant with you. I looked in the mirror at my 16 year old body and saw it. I was mortified. A STRETCHMARK!

I remember the feel of your knobby baby knees scraping against the inside of my body. I would watch you flip around in there for hours. I had never felt less alone in my entire life. I would talk to you and tell you about my day even though you were with me the whole time so you already knew what had happened. I could also tell when the body part that was making an appearance was your tiny butt because it had a certain look to it that was different than your knees. It would make me laugh. I was st my absolute happiest when I was pregnant with you. You saved my life. I told you that a million times while you were alive and I never really could tell you why I felt that way because the words would escape me. But you made me a mom and you also became my side kick. I had been so alone before you came along.

I sit here thinking about your entire life. I do not just mourn the man you were the day you died, I mourn the baby in my womb. I mourn the newborn who was so tiny I could lay you in the space made when I sat indian style. I mourn the six month old who I would put in a car seat and take driving around to show everyone how cute my baby was. I mourn the adventurous you, the you that hated my boyfriend and threw away my cell phone. The you that shaved off your eyebrows and got your brother to do it too. I mourn the you that was strong and encouraging. Maybe I depended on that you too much and that’s what made you sick.

I mostly mourn the you that lit up when you looked at your children. The dad you was by far the best version of you.

I love you so much Anthony. I will miss you forever.

Love,

Mom

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Trip to the Rio Grande Valley

Me and my son Gabe

This past Saturday my son Gabe and I drove from Austin Texas to McAllen Texas to help New Wave Feminists unload a semi full of donations for the respite center there that is run by Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley.

As I native Texan, I do not say “The Border” and in fact I think that term has been coined by the media and it reduces this entire part of Texas that has its own culture and beauty. I get that the US/Mexico border is long and goes past Texas, but still. In Texas we call this part of our great state “The Valley” which is short for The Rio Grande Valley. People from there just say RGV. But never in my life have I heard it called “The Border” and I honestly would be so pissed to see it called that if I was from there.

I grew up in South Texas which is about three hours from The Valley which is weird because you would think that would be South Texas since it is the most southern part of the state. But Texas is huge.

It was not uncommon for my Tio Roy and Tia Mary to help people who had crossed the border and were on foot or hitchhiking from The Valley through their town to go further north. My Tio had a police scanner and sometimes when he heard that the police were after someone who was suspected to be here “illegally”, he would get in his truck and go see if he could find them, give them water and a ride past the county line. My Tia had storage rooms full of donations that she would give to people in need, a lot of them were Mexicans who had crossed the border looking for a better life for their family. These were things that I saw happen my entire life. People have been crossing the border in The Valley for as long as I have been alive and even before then. They have also been dying in the Rio Grande and the desert as long as I can remember.

My son’s biological grandfather was one of those people who crossed the border illegally looking for a better life and he did just that. He worked hard and he raised his family. He was also a Deacon in the Catholic Church and served his community his entire life here in America. He became a Citizen when Anthony was around four or five years old.

I am telling you all of this information because for me, the issue of immigration is an issue that has been a part of my life since before I was born. My first published words were in a letter to the Editor for the Amarillo Newspaper about the issue of immigration and the Government’s failure to fix a broken Immigration system.

My family worked in the fields of the Texas Panhandle and often my grandfather could not find work for his family of American citizens because those jobs were taken by people who crossed here illegally for work and would work for cheaper than my grandfather would. My family also thought that our citizenship made us better than people who came here illegally. Part of that is rooted in history considering that we are Tejanos and the whole -point of Tejanos was that we did not want to be Mexican. This is a real fact that most people do not know since Tejano culture has all but died except for the newly discovered love everyone has for Selena. Hispanics do not publicly discuss this issue in our community though or how so many of the officers working in border patrol or in detention centers are Hispanics and why. We just skip over that part but it is important to note when discussing the “racism at the border” because ya’ll, it is not a bunch of white border patrol agents who are working down there, it is mostly hispanics. We have fallen for the lie that if we are born a few miles north of the river that we are somehow better than those seeking to come here for safety or a better life. I have never understood this at all but it is a reality in the Hispanic/Latino community.

So going to McAllen came with a lot of historical, cultural and trauma based baggage for me. As Hispanic mother who has seen person after person say that these mothers bringing their kids into the US to flee danger are at fault for the way their children are being traumatized and in some cases dying due to conditions in detention centers, it was difficult for me to shake the feeling that I was driving my child into danger and if something happened to him it would be my fault. I was raised by a worrier who saw a lot of shitty things happen to Hispanics.

My mother grew up in a time when she was not allowed into spaces that had signs saying “no Mexicans allowed” and even though we were not Mexican, white people did not care about truth and considered us Mexicans since we were brown and spoke Spanish. (for those of you confused: Native Americans and Spaniards make brown babies that grow up speaking Spanish. That does not always mean Mexican.) So I have an inherent fear of border patrol and especially in a time when the president of this country is tweeting the kind of racist statements I have heard all my life telling women of color to go back to the country they came from. Spoiler: I belong in this country, especially the state of Texas, more than most of the racists who use that line on me. My great grandmother was full blooded Native American from Texas before it was even Texas meaning way way before it was part of the United States of America. As far as I am concerned it is Trump that can go back to where his family came from because my family came from right here.

My point is that I had a lot of anxiety taking my son down there. I had not ever been further south than Corpus Christi Texas. That was intentional. Everyone who knows me knows that I do not go anywhere south enough that I am going to have to go through a border patrol checkpoint to come back. All the nopes.

When we reached the respite center there was a lot going on in the street and there was no parking. I thought “wow, this is great, looks like a lot of people are here to help!” but what I didn’t know at the time is that some members of congress where touring the respite center and holding press conferences there. Here’s my thing. I am tired of seeing members of congress touring detention centers and respite centers and holding pressers. What congress needs to do is do their damn job and start creating solutions to this mess. What is happening now is for sure worse because of Trump’s administration but BOTH parties have failed for decades to create a solution to fix the broken immigration system. It is time for them to get to work, not having photo ops to win elections. It is up to those of us voting for them to hold them accountable. And I mean BOTH PARTIES.

A group of about twenty of us worked for about four or five hours in the Texas heat, which is the worst in the Valley, unloading a semi full of water, diapers, backpacks, socks, shoe strings and other stuff. The people in the semi were boiling but still managed to keep up their spirits. My son Gabe hauled so many loads of supplies on a dolly and put them up for the volunteers of the respite center. The assembly line of people helping to get everything up the conveyor belt was 12 deep. While we probably all disagree on solutions or on who is to blame for this mess, for those few hours, we all worked with one goal in mind and that was to unload this semi and get these supplies into the hands of people who need them. I think that congress can work together as well to help make this crisis better. I also think there is room for pro-lifers and pro-choicers to work together as well to help asylum seekers and work together to hold our leaders accountable. They have used the abortion issue to keep us from working together long enough ya’ll. In the end we all agree that women and children should not be treated like shit, let’s all work together towards that.

One thing that I heard someone say is that we do not even have healthcare or resources to help our own citizens so how can we allow these people in and help them. Considering this came out of the mouth of someone who is pro-life, my thought was that this is what most women who are considering abortion have going on in their mind. I know because I have been in that place three times in my life of finding myself pregnant and thinking “i do not even have enough to take care of myself or the kids I already have, how the hell am I going to manage another child?!”. Guess what? We make room. That is what being pro-life means. That is what being “open to life” means. Open to life isn’t just for pregnancy. We have reduced being “pro-life” to being about stopping abortion when it is so much deeper than that.

Aborting my oldest son would not have solved the issue of poverty. Let’s stop thinking that eliminating the poor is the same as eliminating poverty. Eliminating poverty means building a society where people can work, pay bills, see a doctor and get an education without working four or five jobs. A society that respects the dignity of its citizens is a society where mothers welcome their children into the world. As a brown woman who has had white people tell me that I would not be able to mother my children so I should make the responsible choice to abort them, my opinion is that abortion as the solution to poverty is usually rooted in racism at worst and white privilege at best. But it is for sure not rooted in understanding the strength of motherhood.

These donations are amazing. I was proud to see how much people can do to help others. It was great to work hard in a hot warehouse with people I don’t agree with for a common goal of helping human beings in need. But all of that is a band aid if we keep voting in leaders who are either making these crises worse and/or are not doing their job to fix it. If we do not hold ourselves and our leaders accountable, then people will keep suffering and also children will keep dying.

On the way back I had to go through the border patrol checkpoint. I was so nervous, I had no idea what they would ask for or how the whole thing would go. The border patrol officer asked me where I was going, where I was coming from and what I was doing there. My first instinct was to say that it was none of his business but I already know that is how you make things more difficult for yourself. That is what you learn from a young age as a Hispanic. Which is why I roll my eyes anytime I see anyone say “you have rights”. Yeah, I had the right to tell him I didn’t have to answer him, but that would have gotten me pulled to the side, my car ransacked and taken a few hours out of my day and that is the BEST case scenario. But what surprised me is that when I explained to him what we had been doing he said “so there are still good people in the world”. He was hispanic and looked just like my Tio Roy and was nice to me all things considered.

For so long I had made presumptions about border patrol and they have only gotten worse in the last few weeks. That interaction with this man who was nothing but nice and respectful to me made me check myself and my temptation to dehumanize anyone at all, including border patrol agents. Which to me was the greatest pro-life lesson of the day.

Overall, the Rio Grande Valley is a beautiful part of the state I love so much. I realized it is possible to work with people I disagree with, some of them Trump supporters, for the common good which means that is possible on a bigger scale like congress and I have checked my own assumptions about border patrol as a whole.

As a Catholic sidenote: I went to San Juan and lit a candle for my Tio, Tia and Anthony and got holy water for my mom. It was a great day with my son Gabe which was a blessing since I have come to find so much joy in time with my kids. I am so proud of him for how hard he worked on Saturday. On the way home we stopped at a BBQ place in my Tio’s hometown and as we left there was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen in my life and it felt like maybe God was saying “good job”. Gabe and I went to honor Anthony’s memory and I think we did just that. We will be going back to help at the respite center!

More Thoughts on PR Culture, How Your Support Helps and the Link to my Interview on The Catholic Feminist Podcast

Hello ya’ll! Hope everyone is doing well.

I was recently a guest on the Catholic Feminist Podcast which you can listen to at this link. I am really proud of this interview because I was able to be myself and that made me feel at home. Also, with my husband gone, I rarely get a chance to talk to another adult in real life and I love love love talking.

One of the things that I talked about was the need for more diverse stories in the Catholic world. I also do not think this is a problem with just the Catholic world either. As a pro-life (when it comes to the border and abortion equally), Hispanic, Catholic woman who grew up in poverty and with a past of sleeping around that I talk about openly and do not blame the devil for because I understand how the trauma of sexual abuse as a child works now, it is rare that I find myself in a group of people who I can be totally myself with. The secular world wants stories from women of color UNLESS you are devoutly Catholic and pro-life, the Catholic world wants Hispanic voices who are pro-life but only if you do so walking the Republican definition of what being pro-life. In all situations you are out if you do not fit a narrative being pushed by whoever it is that is “looking for voices”. It is usually with the stipulation that you say the “right things” according to whoever is pushing whatever narrative.

I do not think that I am a victim though because God will always find a way and as I said to Claire on her podcast, people are thirsting for authentic stories and with the internet, I can get my voice out there for people to hear.

But there are things that people can do to help support the writing and speaking of people who have different stories. I say this because of how many messages and comments I have gotten from people after listening to the podcast.

First of all, share the writing of people you like. Share their social media content because honestly, writers nowadays are expected to have a platform in place to be published. Social media content takes time and energy to create and that takes time and energy away from writing so please share it.

Send cash. I do not know a writer who would not benefit from donations. Even those who are making steady money writing and speaking. There is always something that needs to be paid for that would help the writer focus on writing. Even if it a gift certificate for housecleaning, pizza delivery or an Amazon gift card. Or PayPal for the light bill. Every single thing helps because if you are not worrying about how to pay for groceries, you can write.

Patreon. If you know of someone whose writing you love and you have the means to support them through Patreon, do so. That goes with the above suggestion but steady money is always a blessing in this business when steady money is so iffy. I really suck at Patreon but my Patrons inspire me to keep writing on the days when I want to throw in the towel and go back to waiting tables.

Hire them for speaking engagements. If you are not sure how this works, just suggest people who you like to your pastor and see what happens. If you find this does not work then contact that speaker and see if they are willing to speak in your living room. Just FYI, I am. I feel so strongly about people hearing my story both of my conversion and Anthony’s suicide that I will anywhere to tell it. I will work with anyone’s budget.

Send encouraging emails and messages. There is no end to the negative emails, messages and DMs. There is no end to the frustration of being in Catholic media for a number of different reasons. But the struggle is so real. The self doubt is real. The feeling that you are not important is real. It is also spiritual warfare and that ish is SO REAL. Every single encouraging email, message and DM helps fight against those things. I am thankful for every single encouraging message that I get.

Send coffee, coffee giftcards or liquor. I have had someone send me a box of wine and that got me through 2017 to be honest. Always ask the writer you are supporting if alcohol is ok but almost every single writer I know will be so happy with a Starbucks giftcard.

The most important thing you can do for writers and speakers you want to support is to pray for them. Light candles for me, have masses said for Anthony and anything else you can do. I will take all of the prayer anyone is willing to offer up for me.

Thank you all for always having my back. I would have stopped writing a long time ago if it were not for you guys. Especially those of you who have been following my blog since Ramblings of a Crazy Face.