Hello, Writing Club community!
Lost, so many have lost someone, most of us are used to the idea of loss, but we are unprepared for when it comes knocking at your door, my knock was harsh, like any other in my life, don't get me wrong, I haven't lost many people before, but none of that compares to losing a child, and even less, my twins.
The whole situation is something that is neither easy nor healthy for the state of mind, so don't mind me for going a little crazy, I just wanted to sit there and wait for my demise, but my husband dint wanted to let me go, I know each person deals with pain at its way, but for him to be here, nursing me, while he was also suffering?
Made by me on Canva, uploaded by Elf-Moondance on Pixabay.
With the death of the twins, I learned two things, first, that justice is not always at the hand of the mid-class, because I could not get the obstetrician-gynecologist to be fired from the clinic, much less get her license suspended or removed, it became a useless fight of endurance among myself and my fate.
Angered fueled my life for a while, while I cried every night, but went to court every morning, I had little to no evidence but the evidence I did had was determinant, an audio file of the gynecologist administrating the wrong medicine in my 8th month of pregnancy, and the following cry of pain about a couple of hours later in my room on the clinic when the first of the twins died.
While somehow another doctor was on duty that night at the clinic and got Cristofer out and managed to keep the baby alive until morning (he did his best as he was not a pediatrician), my child was both underdeveloped and poisoned... He lived only one night and half a day, and the Doctor might have cried more than I when he died but at least he dint do it inside my womb, my husband was about to have a heart attack right there and die, from the pure anger you could see on his face, and that was a rage we both shared.
Uploaded by Totumrevolutum on Pixabay.
When legal action failed me, I tried social media, social pressure, and even a push from influential politicians, I tried all in the name of my children, and when all failed me, I finally decided to sit and vegetate, to duel my children and the injustice, to let it rest, to let me die.
My husband took months sitting with me, daily after work, and each morning, he fed me with a spoon while I looked at the void, I was not unresponsive or whatever, nor catatonic, I just, lost all hope; and while I was dying spiritually, my husband was more alive than ever, he smiled at me, kissed my hands, promised me that one day we would both get justice and our children, that all I had to do was to live once again, but how could I live when my children were gone?
Uploaded by Victoria_rt on Pixabay.
Then the economic crisis hit the country, our family business went down and it influenced my husband, he decided to move away from out of nowhere, he told me that he loved me, even a couple of friends came over to see me, one of them brought a small daisy, a school mate from old times, he remembered the symbolism.
That daisy represented my faith, I had it tattooed on my arms years ago, before my pregnancy, and eventually, I tattooed my children's death and birth under it, forever in my skin, forever with me. Love was fading from my heart but I longed for my husband's care, and when he finally was gone from the country, I decided to stand and move once again, there was no one to nurse me, I had to stand on my own.
Just one step at a time, I regained life, when he came over at Christmas he was both energetic and happy, we danced and loved like never before, and in the night, we both cried, eventually a new pregnancy came to us, a new opportunity to be a mother.
Things worked out fine this time, I had a beautiful baby girl, our lovely daughter, and while my husband came for months at each time, he flew from our country to the neighbors one, at least three times per year, and wondered why he kept coming back and if someday he would not.
Sadly that day came, and he promised to be here in summer when our girl reached four, she is now six and he is still a no show, little did I know at the time what he did, but my god I would have done the same, he committed murder.
Uploaded by Elf-Moondance on Pixabay.
I found out two years later, as he somehow never stopped sending money, he just chitchatted with me about not coming back and that was it, he told me he would remarry and have another family and to do the same, that I should forget about him, at the time it broke me as hard as when I lost the twins, but now I had my child and my life to keep going... Eventually, I met someone and life just move on, he was joyful when we talked about it, and at that moment he told me the truth, he was in jail for killing the gynecologist that killed our twins "by mistake".
He found that she was moving to the country where he worked, at the time he had an honest job, but as soon as she got a job in some hospital, he ditched it and kept watching over her, soon after he also found that she committed another "mistake" and killed someone else baby again, they were immigrants as him, and they dint have any way to press her towards justice, so she evaded law once again.
He took his time, worked off some contacts, started doing illegal stuff that never disclosed to me, and bought a gun, patience wavers revenge he said, he had to do justice, and so he watched her over for months while he kept waiting for the perfect timing, for an opportunity.
The day arrived, he loaded the gun, called our daughter and said he would come home for the vacation, flew her a kiss on the camera, and said that he loved our family, ended the call and he walked to the hospital and faced the obstetrician-gynecologist, she failed to recognize him, he pulled the gun out and with a shaking pulse, he shot her.
He told me that she said that she was sorry, that he wanted to live, and when she pleaded for her life, as a response he shot her in the foot, and her face shifted, then she smiled, and bragged about how she did it on purpose, that people like us aren't meant to have children, and ended her inhuman speech with "I see you in hell, murderer" as she bled out... At the end of her life, she admitted the truth that we knew, yet I was back to square one now.
I sat on the bed again, feeling loss, revenge, or justice, I don't care now, I know that he never stopped loving me and while a new husband is here at my side, he is not nursing me nor feeding me with a spoon, he is not the love of my life, and I can tell I'm not his neither, mustered my courage and whispered to him goodbye, and he after I explained all about the call I had this morning, understood and said he would send me the divorce papers through the mail.
When I finally saw the father of my baby child, all I wanted was to thank him for becoming a monster and stoping that serial killer of innocent babies, as we were talking I told him that "we had to honor both of our children" so I was going to honor them by keeping our family together, and said it was fine with it, as long as our daughter knew the truth and why he did it, because is a dangerous world out there, and she has to see the truth.
Uploaded by Elf-Moondance on Pixabay.
Family, most people dismiss it for years until they lose it and finally understand that all in life that matters is, or is derived from family. What would a father do to avenge his family? What could a pained mother do to reunite it? Those were the source ideas for this dream, and so I ask you those same questions, I will read you in the comment section below.
¡Hola comunidad de Writing Club!
Pérdida, muchos han perdido a alguien, la mayoría de nosotros estamos acostumbrados a la idea de la pérdida, pero no estamos preparados para cuando llega a llamar a tu puerta, mi llamada fue dura, como cualquier otra en mi vida, no me malinterpreten, no he perdido a mucha gente antes, pero nada de eso se compara con perder a un hijo, y menos aun a gemelos.
Toda la situación es algo que no es fácil ni saludable para el estado de ánimo, así que no me hagan caso por volverme un poco loca, sólo quería sentarme a esperar mi fallecimiento, pero mi esposo no quería dejarme ir, sé que cada persona lidia con el dolor a su manera, pero que él estuviera aquí, cuidandome, mientras él también sufría.
Hecho por mi en Canva Pro, subido por Elf-Moondance en Pixabay.
Con la muerte de los mellizos, aprendí dos cosas, primero, que la justicia no siempre está a la mano de la clase media, porque no pude lograr que la gineco-obstetra fuera despedida de la clínica, y mucho menos que le suspendieran o quitaran la licencia, se convirtió en una lucha inútil de resistencia entre yo y mi destino.
La rabia alimentó mi vida durante un tiempo, mientras lloraba cada noche, pero iba al juzgado todas las mañanas, tenía pocas o ninguna prueba pero la que tenía era determinante, un archivo de audio de la ginecóloga administrando el medicamento equivocado en mi octavo mes de embarazo, y el siguiente grito de dolor un par de horas después en mi habitación de la clínica cuando murió el primero de los gemelos.
Mientras que de alguna manera, otro médico estaba de guardia esa noche en la clínica y sacó a Cristofer y consiguió mantener al bebé con vida hasta la mañana (hizo lo que pudo, ya que no era pediatra), mi hijo estaba subdesarrollado y envenenado... Vivió sólo una noche y medio día, y el Doctor puede que llorara más que yo cuando murió, pero al menos no lo hizo dentro de mi vientre, a mi marido estuvo a punto de darle un infarto allí mismo y morir, de la pura rabia que se le veía en la cara, y eso era una rabia que compartíamos los dos.
Cuando las acciones legales me fallaron, lo intenté con las redes sociales, con la presión social, e incluso con un empujón de políticos influyentes, lo intenté todo en nombre de mis hijos, y cuando todo me falló, finalmente decidí sentarme a vegetar, a hacer un duelo con mis hijos y con la injusticia, a dejarla descansar, a dejarme morir.
Mi marido tardó meses en sentarse conmigo, a diario después del trabajo, y cada mañana, me daba de comer con una cuchara mientras yo miraba al vacío, no estaba insensible ni lo que fuera, ni catatónica, simplemente, había perdido toda esperanza; y mientras yo moría espiritualmente, mi marido estaba más vivo que nunca, me sonreía, me besaba las manos, me prometía que algún día los dos conseguiríamos justicia y a nuestros hijos, que lo único que tenía que hacer era volver a vivir, pero ¿Cómo iba a vivir si mis hijos no estaban?
Subido por Openclipart-vectors en Pixabay.
Luego la crisis económica azotó al país, nuestro negocio familiar se fue a pique e influyó en mi esposo, decidió alejarse de la nada, me dijo que me amaba, incluso un par de amigos vinieron a verme, uno de ellos trajo una pequeña margarita, un compañero de escuela de los viejos tiempos, el recordaba el simbolismo.
Esa margarita representaba mi fe, me la tatué en los brazos hace años, antes de mi embarazo, y con el tiempo, me tatué la muerte y el nacimiento de mis hijos debajo de ella, para siempre en mi piel, para siempre conmigo. El amor se desvanecía en mi corazón, pero añoraba los cuidados de mi marido, y cuando por fin se fue del país, decidí ponerme en pie y moverme una vez más, no había nadie que me cuidara, tenía que valerme por mí misma.
Paso a paso, recuperé la vida, cuando vino mi marido en Navidad, el estaba enérgico y feliz, entonces bailamos y amamos como nunca y por la noche, los dos lloramos, finalmente nos llegó un nuevo embarazo, una nueva oportunidad de ser madre.
Las cosas funcionaron bien esta vez, tuve una preciosa niña, nuestra adorable hija y mientras mi marido venía durante meses en cada ocasión pues volaba de nuestro país al de los vecinos, al menos tres veces al año, yo me preguntaba por qué seguía viniendo y si algún día no lo haría.
Lamentablemente ese día llegó, ya que prometió estar aquí en verano cuando nuestra niña cumpliera los cuatro años, ahora tiene seis y él sigue sin aparecer, poco sabía yo en ese momento lo que hizo, pero dios mío yo hubiera hecho lo mismo, el cometió un asesinato.
Subido por Elf-Moondance en Pixabay.
Me enteré dos años después, ya que de alguna manera nunca dejó de enviar dinero, sólo charló conmigo de que no volvería y ya está, me dijo que se volvería a casar y tendría otra familia y que hiciera lo mismo, que me olvidara de él, en ese momento me rompió tan fuerte como cuando perdí a los gemelos, pero ahora tenía a mi hija y mi vida para seguir adelante.... Con el tiempo, conocí a alguien y la vida siguió adelante, él se alegró cuando lo hablamos, y en ese momento me dijo la verdad, estaba en la cárcel por matar al ginecólogo que mató a nuestros gemelos "accidentalmente".
Descubrió que ella se trasladaba al país donde él trabajaba, en ese momento tenía un trabajo honrado, pero en cuanto ella consiguió un trabajo en un hospital, él lo abandonó y siguió vigilándola, poco después también descubrió que ella cometió otro "error" y mató a otro bebé de nuevo, eran inmigrantes como él, y no tenían forma de presionarla hacia la justicia, así que volvió a evadir la ley.
Se tomó su tiempo, trabajó con algunos contactos, empezó a hacer cosas ilegales que nunca me revelo, luedo compró un arma, la paciencia se disipa y conto que tenía que hacer justicia, y así la vigiló durante meses mientras seguía esperando el momento perfecto, una oportunidad.
Llegó el día, cargó el arma, llamó a nuestra hija y le dijo que vendría a casa para las vacaciones, le voló un beso en la cámara, y le dijo que amaba a nuestra familia, terminó la llamada y se dirigió al hospital y se enfrentó a la ginecóloga-obstetra, ella no lo reconoció, sacó el arma y con un pulso tembloroso, le disparó.
Me contó que ella le dijo que lo sentía, que quería vivir, y cuando ella suplicó por su vida, como respuesta él le disparó en el pie, y su cara cambió, luego sonrió, y se jactó de que lo había hecho a propósito, que la gente como nosotros no está hecha para tener hijos, y terminó su inhumano discurso con un "te veo en el infierno, asesino" mientras se desangraba... Al final de su vida, admitió la verdad que sabíamos, pero yo volvía a estar en el punto de partida.
Me senté en la cama de nuevo, sintiendo pérdida, venganza, o justicia, ahora no me importa, sé que nunca dejó de amarme y mientras un nuevo marido está aquí a mi lado, no me amamanta ni me alimenta con una cuchara, no es el amor de mi vida, y puedo decir que no soy la suya tampoco, me armé de valor y le susurré adiós, y él después de explicarle todo sobre la llamada que tuve esta mañana, entendió y dijo que me enviaría los papeles del divorcio por correo.
Cuando finalmente vi al padre de mi bebé, todo lo que quería era darle las gracias por convertirse en un monstruo y detener a ese asesino en serie de bebés inocentes, mientras hablábamos le dije que "teníamos que honrar a nuestros dos hijos" así que iba a honrarlos manteniendo nuestra familia unida, y dijo que estaba bien por él, siempre y cuando nuestra hija supiera la verdad y por qué lo hizo, porque es un mundo peligroso ahí fuera, y ella tiene que ver la verdad.
La familia, la mayoría de las personas la desestiman durante años hasta que la pierden y finalmente comprenden que todo lo que importa en la vida es, o se deriva de la familia. ¿Qué haría un padre para vengar a su familia? ¿Qué podría hacer una madre dolorida para reunirla? Esas fueron las ideas fuente de este sueño, y por eso te hago esas mismas preguntas, te leo en la sección de comentarios más abajo.
Fuente del separador entre idiomas, hecho en Canva.
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Painful! I feel the pain!
#dreemport
Muchas veces me he preguntado que seria capaz de hacer si alguien lastimara a mis hijos y la respuesta sin dudar es que sería capaz de cualquier locura.
A mi me pueden hacer lo que quieran pero el más mínimo desaire a mis hijos te separa de mi para siempre.
El dolor, frustración e impotencia de estos padres en mi condición de madre puedo imaginarlo perfectamente.
Saludos Jesús
Ese dolor e impotencia es el que sufren muchos padres el dia de hoy, el dia de mañana y siempre, en muchos lugares y constantemente... Solo me pongo en sus zapatos y me estremezco... Gracias a ti por leer :)
This story affected me in a way that I cannot summarize, so instead I will link this post where I briefly talk about losing my first child to medical malpractice... as well as the previlence of that where I live (US). It's an incredibly heartbreaking situation, and it happens every day :/
I appreciate you writing a story that addresses a terrible injustice that many families experience... to answer your question, I'll parrot what I say in the post I linked: birth activism is the best revenge. Collectively, we can protect mothers and their babies through taking action ❤️
I'm so sorry you had to live thought that, and I will go to your post about it, this is one of the vilest acts that a person can inflic to another, taking a child away from someone is hideous, but killing it... is just plain evil. Big hug and add this father to those actions.
oh my goodness, Jesus... this tore at my heart. It was an emotional read - you dug deep. I cannot imagine going through this as a parent. Was this complete fiction or inspired by real-life events? Would I avenge a mistake like that? I wouldn't, although I understand the perspective and desire. For me, the family I still had, I would want to protect and love. I would not want to sacrifice my life with them... but I would offer to give evidence of negligence in court if needed. I would write to the local ombudsman and MP in my country. This is such a devastatingly sad situation for immigrants to find themselves in, and my heart breaks reading this piece. My friend... you cannot leave Hive... just find the right communities to write in.... and please come talk to me about Dreemport. I really do think you will enjoy the community and support. !LUV !ALIVE !PIZZA
@jesustiano! You Are Alive so I just staked 0.1 $ALIVE to your account on behalf of @samsmith1971. (1/10)
The tip has been paid for by the We Are Alive Tribe through the earnings on @alive.chat, feel free to swing by our daily chat any time you want.
@samsmith1971(1/10) gave you LUV.
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Both real life and fiction, I was the guy that gifted the flower, the story is based on a close friend who lost her first two children, the husband dint go to jail, they never got him, he got away with murder and runned of to another country, and the gynecologist was a lot worse, she was found guilty of killing at least 8 other children "that we know of"...
Oh wow...this just became all the more powerful and heartbreaking 😥💗🙏 I am so sorry your friends went through that, Jesus... it's just incredibly awful and sad. !LUV
It is what it is... is just life on latin america. Big hug and dont worry, now she has tree children and is a very happy mother :)
That is wonderful. I have shared this post of yours in Dreemport to increase the engagement on it... take a look at Dreemport and see what you think :-)
THank you, but how does it work, I read a bit, but I fail to understand what does it do.
Dreemport is a platform agnostic curation site. You register, agree to read and rank 5 randomly assigned posts and hopefully engage meaningfully with them, and in exchange you get to share one of your own posts (PG13) which other writers/readers will, in turn, read and rank and engage with. It helps to expand your readership and expose you to new writers. You earn dreem tokens (Hive layer 2) for curating and aligning with Dreemport standards, and additional tokens if you are ranked in the top 5. You also earn Dreemerge cards each day for curating and aligning with guild. You can read about these on @dreemsteem's blog. (They are virtual cards held in your Dreemport account which you will be able to merge into higher level versions of themselves until you get to the top level 5 card which can then be exchanged for a Dreemport reward, or for a nominal fee can be converted into an NFT and traded to another dreemer for an NFT that you may prefer instead). You can curate and share Monday - Friday between 4 am and midnight UTC (Dreemport is closed Saturday and Sunday). If you curate (do your random 5) on Monday, you earn the right to share on Monday. It does not roll to Tuesday. To share on Tuesday you must curate on Tuesday. Hope that helps. Take a look at the Dreemport post I shared with you and register on the website (quick and easy):
Dreemport.com
!PIZZA
@samsmith1971(6/10) gave you LUV.
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In venezuela, money cna be made into law, but law cant be madre into money... Rich or more afluent people can avoid all their life to go to jail if they have enough capitalll. Sadly.
It is amazing how many things can be swept under the carpet if you have enough to pay for that magic broom!!! !ALIVE !PIZZA
@jesustiano! You Are Alive so I just staked 0.1 $ALIVE to your account on behalf of @samsmith1971. (4/10)
The tip has been paid for by the We Are Alive Tribe through the earnings on @alive.chat, feel free to swing by our daily chat any time you want.
Money is the biggest power in the real world.
Saludos @jesustiano, wow que historia tan conmovedora me he sentido impotente ante tanta falta de caridad de parte de los médicos, yo también perdí un primer bebé después de 15 años buscándolo y quizás también fue por falta de ayuda médica, también sentí rabia e impotencia pero en mi caso me culpaba a mi por no haber ubicado el Ginecobstetra adecuado, gracias a Dios no mucho tiempo después llegó mi princesa mayor y cinco años después la princesa menor, para darle sentido a mi vida.
Honró a mí bebé fallecido amandolo a través de ellas y lo contamos cómo uno de los nuestros.
Gracias por esa historia.
Es parte de la vida supongo... Pero no debería de serlo, Ojala esto deje de ocurrirle a tantas personas en este mundo, poco a poco me he enterado de lo comun que es y esto me aterra... Un abrazo y gracias por contar tu historia ☺️
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This is so heartbreaking my friend. A big hug for you. Praying for your peace of mind and comfort. Have a nice time.
Reading through #dreemport.
Thank you, big hug :)
Wow! That was very powerful. I hope this is not based on a true story, although I know of baby surgeons that have committed attrocities before.
Inspired... Sadly, I actually included myself into the tale, im the guy gifting flowers, originally it werent daisys, and she did lose the twins, her husband did take justice in his own hands and Venezuela being the country it is, allowed him to escape to Colombia where he now lives a decent life, they eventually divorced because immigrating ain't easy, she returned and lives with her tree kids, he sends money from time to time but the doctor is no more, and damm she did a number of cases and was locally nicknamed as a monster for the babies she killed.
My god that is horrific. 🙈
Such is life...
Oh wow.... I have no words
This was such a powerful and moving story. I was so emotional reading it!!!! Jesús - it's just so tragic - but beautiful. Injustice, hatred, vengeance, prejudice - on one side. And then hope, renewal, love... on the other.
So sad how neither of them could truly move on - and how the actions of that one terrible person would destroy so many lives. But - at least she can't hurt anyone anymore.
So good!!! And I loved that you used different images for the Spanish version! hehehe I noticed that as I scrolled down - how neat! I've never seen that before! hehehe i loved that
#dreemport brought me here! and I'm so glad!! :)
Hi there, well i kind of do this always, if you read all my short stories they are filled with this kind of emotional packages, mostly because I try to mirror reality thought dreams and vice versa, what is dreemport?
The most painful read and heartbroken story... Jesus!...she intentionally got rid of innocent babies that doesn't know about the fight at all...has she asked herself how she did that without a second thought.
Indeed this is brutal and she is a murderer... goodness at least she confessed after being shot out of pressure.
Good thing that justice served her correctly!.. I came in from dreemport.
Thanks XD, I figured as much, dreemport seens a good engagement webpage.