by Rose Croft
Vicente gripped his mother’s hand tightly while he allowed her fingernails to dig into his skin. She then coaxed him between gasps to look at her and keep his eyes on hers probably sensing this was all too much for a six-year-old to witness because her sister Esmeralda had always been with her in the past to help deliver her babies. But, her sense of urgency overruled her conscience.
“Una vez más,” Guadalupe persuaded her to push one more time in her gravelly I’ve-been-through-a-lot-voice as she leaned over Teresa. Out of the corner of his eye, Vicente saw legs and knees covered in some slimy substance. He thought he might be sick but swallowed hard and focused his attention on Mami. However, his curiosity got the best of him and he kept darting his eyes back and forth between his mother and the baby.
“Está bien, está bien, todo está bien,” Teresa cooed to her son telling him everything was fine, although it was clear she was in pain. Even through her suffering, she tried to calm Vicente.
Vicente could see his mother’s hair was now wet and matted around her face; her voice was weak when she’d spoken to him. In his child’s brain, he knew this whole ordeal was taking a toll on her as she furrowed her brow and growled out pushing as hard as she could.
Guadalupe was cheering on Teresa as she pushed and screamed. The noises pierced the air until only heavy breaths could be heard for several moments. The baby was out. Teresa felt her stomach as if assuring herself that the baby was indeed out, but there were no cries, just the panicked gasp from Guadalupe who unwound the umbilical cord from the baby’s neck.
“¿Qué pasa? ¿Qué pasa?” Teresa struggled to sit up fighting through her exhaustion demanding to know what was happening. Guadalupe was swatting the very still baby on its back. The older woman even put her mouth to the infant’s like she was trying to bring it to life. Teresa struggled to grasp her baby, but some sixth sense told Vicente to try to restrain her. Something was wrong, he knew but wasn’t exactly certain what it was.
By now, Mami was sobbing, rezando like never before, praying to God for forgiveness de sus pecados. Vicente tried to comfort her, telling her she was perfect and Díos knew it. In his mind, his mother had never committed a sin.
Guadalupe raised her solemn, weary eyes to Teresa still clutching the lifeless babe in her arms and shook her head. Mami fought out of Vicente’s grasp to clutch her baby to her chest. Unbeknownst to Vicente, the baby was dead. But, he soon found out when his mother bent over the infant with a look of pain and wailed. She rambled on and on again about God punishing her because she was dirty. She called herself a puta, prostituta, and said she deserved this for selling her body for sex. And, it was on this day Vicente learned angels didn’t deliver babies from heaven.
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