2 beds.
That's all they have in the emergency room in the city of Gaspar Hernández that our village borders.
All the new mothers with their babies are lined up for their immunization, and when they're done with immunization, everyone waits in the hallway with about 40 other new mothers.
Everyone thought the baby was mine, but I was only there to be part of the Little Angel's very first immunization.
They all laugh when I tell them I'm the godmother.
I suppose it's just a novelty to most to have a gringa for a godmother.
But the Little Angel is quite comfortable with me, and Our Favourite keeps offering for us to take him home for good. Make him OUR baby.
I tell him, "I want to! But your dad needs him." Papa is VERY proud of his boy.
2 pediatric doctors tag team with all the mothers who need them.
There are signs everywhere that say to wash your hands with soap and water to ward off disease, but obviously that only applies to your own home, because there is no soap with which to do so in the hospital.
Newborns are everywhere, and dirty hands are touching them.
Not that we have it much better here at Casa Paraíso. We have soap, yes, but no water. However, we have electricity. It seems we get a choice of one or the other.
Today, I'll be the smelly gringa who tries to cover up my BO with more pit shit.
I've given up on trying to feel fresh and pretty. I'll leave that up to all the other lovely ladies here.
I might as well become a hippy. My hair is definitely long enough now.
I just tie it back all the time, or up in some kinda do with my hair rags. What's the point if I can't shower?
Anyway, Our Fave's Mom is in Gaspar Hernández with her sister who cares for them with all the love of the mother herself.
She's a great help.
They're grateful when I come, because they get a break and pass the Little Angel off to me.
I fawn over him as they clean and giggle at me speaking to him in English. Baby doesn't care. He can't understand Spanish either, so I'm good.
The people in the tiny little dwellings where Our Fave's Mom is staying are starting to get to know me and vice versa.
A few of them make sure I'm safe. They watch over me as I walk, talk between people for me and surround me with their presence.
When they're not there, I have to say, it's like putting a young, pretty, naive girl in the pit with a gaggle of construction workers back home.
The leers, ogling, cat calling, attention sucking sounds and words I don't have to understand to know what they mean, really make me MUCH more than uncomfortable.
I know how to handle those creeps back home now, as I'm not the spring chicken I used to be, not to mention, not being the spring chicken, they leave me alone now.
There are good things to be said about aging for this femme ridden with P.T.S.D.
Still, I have visions of the poor woman who died from a gang rape in India.
I try my best to put on the 'don't fuck with me' face, but just like my intuition doesn't work here, neither does my Pissy Face.
I keep my stun gun in my purse. I don't carry any cash. I dress down.
It's a new world, and it's not MY world.
It's not the same when Papi is with me. The men don't bother me as overtly. But today was too early for mi esposo to play The Godfather.
It's a world that I have to adapt to, learn how to survive and most definitely, seek out the better hospitals.
No matter how bad off I am, I won't be visiting the one in Gaspar Hernández.
No toilet paper or soap, and only two beds with every sick person in the city lined up against the wall.
Nope.
I come home and clean myself pronto after a visit to that building. Today, with water we bought from the local store.
New world, new dangers.
New life.
That's all they have in the emergency room in the city of Gaspar Hernández that our village borders.
All the new mothers with their babies are lined up for their immunization, and when they're done with immunization, everyone waits in the hallway with about 40 other new mothers.
Everyone thought the baby was mine, but I was only there to be part of the Little Angel's very first immunization.
They all laugh when I tell them I'm the godmother.
I suppose it's just a novelty to most to have a gringa for a godmother.
But the Little Angel is quite comfortable with me, and Our Favourite keeps offering for us to take him home for good. Make him OUR baby.
I tell him, "I want to! But your dad needs him." Papa is VERY proud of his boy.
2 pediatric doctors tag team with all the mothers who need them.
There are signs everywhere that say to wash your hands with soap and water to ward off disease, but obviously that only applies to your own home, because there is no soap with which to do so in the hospital.
Newborns are everywhere, and dirty hands are touching them.
Not that we have it much better here at Casa Paraíso. We have soap, yes, but no water. However, we have electricity. It seems we get a choice of one or the other.
Today, I'll be the smelly gringa who tries to cover up my BO with more pit shit.
I've given up on trying to feel fresh and pretty. I'll leave that up to all the other lovely ladies here.
I might as well become a hippy. My hair is definitely long enough now.
I just tie it back all the time, or up in some kinda do with my hair rags. What's the point if I can't shower?
Anyway, Our Fave's Mom is in Gaspar Hernández with her sister who cares for them with all the love of the mother herself.
She's a great help.
They're grateful when I come, because they get a break and pass the Little Angel off to me.
I fawn over him as they clean and giggle at me speaking to him in English. Baby doesn't care. He can't understand Spanish either, so I'm good.
The people in the tiny little dwellings where Our Fave's Mom is staying are starting to get to know me and vice versa.
A few of them make sure I'm safe. They watch over me as I walk, talk between people for me and surround me with their presence.
When they're not there, I have to say, it's like putting a young, pretty, naive girl in the pit with a gaggle of construction workers back home.
The leers, ogling, cat calling, attention sucking sounds and words I don't have to understand to know what they mean, really make me MUCH more than uncomfortable.
I know how to handle those creeps back home now, as I'm not the spring chicken I used to be, not to mention, not being the spring chicken, they leave me alone now.
There are good things to be said about aging for this femme ridden with P.T.S.D.
Still, I have visions of the poor woman who died from a gang rape in India.
I try my best to put on the 'don't fuck with me' face, but just like my intuition doesn't work here, neither does my Pissy Face.
I keep my stun gun in my purse. I don't carry any cash. I dress down.
It's a new world, and it's not MY world.
It's not the same when Papi is with me. The men don't bother me as overtly. But today was too early for mi esposo to play The Godfather.
It's a world that I have to adapt to, learn how to survive and most definitely, seek out the better hospitals.
No matter how bad off I am, I won't be visiting the one in Gaspar Hernández.
No toilet paper or soap, and only two beds with every sick person in the city lined up against the wall.
Nope.
I come home and clean myself pronto after a visit to that building. Today, with water we bought from the local store.
New world, new dangers.
New life.
i maintain my self-confidence at all times in all places
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