Having Words

                                I mentioned in (on?)  this blog a while ago, that one day I would say why a dirty word is my favorite word.   For some reason, today I feel ready.  Probably because it's been hectic and a little busier than our version of normal. I find myself a little tired and overwhelmed. When you have a disabled kid, especially a complicated one like Feisty Pants, there's a sense of urgency about getting every damn thing done now, like right NOW,  because a part of you knows you will never get back to it.  My favorite word is in many ways about love and defiance and right now I feel the need for a shot of defiance much the way we want an extra shot of espresso to handle that afternoon energy slump. 

                               So, the story is actually Goo's.  It's from his perspective.  When I was in labor with Feisty Pants,  the placenta abrupted ( the placenta separated from the uterine wall before it was supposed to) and it got hectic quickly.  Feisty Pants stopped getting oxygen and her heart stopped.  I hemorrhaged and bled out. We both died, basically, in childbirth.  Goo, who had been shooed out of the operating room was watching through a small window as all hell broke loose.   He said the surgeon was working on me and the respiratory therapist was doing cpr on Feisty Pants.  After a while, the doctor looked at the rt and said, "Do you want to call it?" (Meaning call her time of death) 

                                The respiratory therapist says, "No" and keeps working.

                                Goo said after what seems like a million years, the doc looks at the rt again and says, "Do you want to call it?"

                                The rt says, "NO" and keeps working.

                                After yet another million years, the doc says, "I SAID, Do you want to call it?!?"

                                Goo says the rt whipped his head up, looked Goo right in the eye and says very clearly so all could hear, " You can fire me tomorrow but FUCK YOU, NO!"

                                And like that, Feisty Pants' heart started beating again.

                                                                                                                        

                               So you can all say what you want about swearing and manners and civility.   You can say all you want about goodness and light and love.  Sometimes love comes in weird and wild ways. Sometimes it's not the kind word or sweet gesture that makes the difference. Sometimes defiance is a form of love. Sometimes stubbornness is a form of caring for your fellow creatures. Sometimes, in the darkest of moments it's the human being who is willing to defy the odds and face the storm with you, even if only for a moment, that makes it possible to stand back up and put one foot in front of the other.  Sometimes "fuck you, no"  sounds an awful lot like love..

BTW for those who heard this and asked- we never even knew his name. Hubby hugged him later but forgot to ask.   Someone at the hospital did tell us he had moved away soon afterwards.   I like to think he is out there somewhere spreading love and f bombs like they're glitter. 

Also BTW- if you are reading this and it was you, thank you.