Cinnamon stained Dawn

Cinnamon Stained Dawn

Mom: “I have been working really hard”

Joyce: “I know, I know”

Mom: “Where is my baby?”

Joyce: “Maybe you should try using the restroom”

Mom: “That is impossible, I’m in labor

Joyce: “Just try, the pressure from your bladder might be the reason the baby is not coming out”

Mom: “Alright if you say so, I’ll try”

It was December 8, 1990 at 6 o’clock in the morning. My mother was in labor. She had suffered 9 months of morning sickness. The family was so accustomed to her bouts of regurgitating whatever meal she had just eaten that we formed the “Oh no” brigade. As soon as Mom felt the warm saliva in the back of her throat she’d say “OH NO! We snapped into action; Mom would run to the kitchen sink and start splashing cold water on her face. My sister and I would grab ice from the freezer and rub it on her toes, her calves, her arms, and any spot we could find, while my dad rubbed ice on the back of her neck. This lasted ‘til the nausea passed.

Her sickness and pain would be worth it. After all “no pain no gain.” Within the next 15 minutes my younger sister would be born. Her birth was unusual, spectacular, and strange. She would be born, not into a world of machines, drugs, nurses, and doctors, but into a world rare and comfortable. She, like my older sister and I, would be born at home. Her first breath would open the gates of a whole new world. With that one tiny gasp of fresh air my new born sister would carve my destiny into stone.

We lived in a four bedroom home with a painter’s studio, right on the edge of Costa Mesa, and Newport Beach. We were so close to the sea that the smell of salt caressed the air. The city was like an ant hill, workers everywhere trying to build a mall, Triangle Square. My parents, Frank and Joycelyn, were and still are very talented artists. My older sister Jaspre was then seven years old. We were a happy little family that would soon be blessed with a pleasant surprise.

It all started before the 8th but those events were just a fury of excitement and are impossible to remember. By the time the 8th did roll around my mother had been in and out of labor for over 30 hours and the labor had not even hinted on reaching its final stage.