I decided to tell this story because it was a pivotal loss we had between losing the twins and the birth of our oldest son, Nico. It was a trying time for her and me. That period tested everything our relationship was about and everything it would be. We were desperate to heal ourselves and try to replace the loss we suffered on that terrible October morning in 2006 when we suffered a double loss of twins the morning, we were scheduled to give birth. Mimie was very strong, but strength can only last so long.
There Always Time: I've Got Twins
PART VI
I removed my bright maglight flashlight from its holster attached to my gun belt. I used the 24,000 candle power to light up the inside passenger compartment of the car.
The bright light would shine on a reality of life that is more common than some think. And total bullshit to come across after what Mimie and I just went through. It made me question my faith in God and the process of natural selection.
There are three women inside the automobile. I could clearly see a blonde female in the back seat of the older model vehicle. Seeing the two other females in the front seat was difficult. But the view of them got better as I moved in closer, and my light shed more light on their situation.
A haze of smoke was in the air, causing the light to reflect back against it, but I could see through it as if it were a transparent wall. The light startled all three of those girls. The girl, sitting in the driver's seat, attempted to conceal something under her butt. Still, the window gave way to a clear view of her jumping around as if sitting on something hot. Her body language gave her away.
The female in the driver's seat lowered the car window. The smell that entered my nostrils through my sinuses and down the back of my throat smelled like burning plastic but with a flare of sweetness. They were smoking crack cocaine.
"What are you doing out here tonight in a closed business parking lot?" I inquired the driver in typical police officer fashion. But like a parent already knowing the answer.
"The car won't start," the startled and nervous driver said.
She couldn't have been older than twenty-five years old. Her black hair, brown eyes, and olive-tone complexion gave away her Hispanic heritage. From what I could see from my advantage point standing outside the car, she had decent clothes on, but the rest of her was a mess.
"Get out of the car for me," I order her. Her suspicious activity did not dispel my alarm and thus warrants further investigation. She was, without a doubt, not free to leave.
It appeared that she hadn't showered in days. But at this stage of her drug life, I don't think hygiene was her priority. By the looks of all the women in the car, it wasn't a priority for any of them.
"Okay, what are you guys really doing here? Stop bullshitting me. I'm not new to this." I said to the driver of the car. She attempted to play me, but I wanted to hear what I knew. I wasn't yet a parent, but I genuinely felt like one to this point.
"Nothing, officer," she said without looking at me, "We basically broke down, and we were just chilling until someone came to get us."
"Well, when are they getting here? And why were you arguing?" I said, demanding answers.
"Oh shit, we were messing around. We weren't arguing, damn." she said with content, "and I don't know when they are getting here; we haven't called anyone yet." She said with some frustration.
I just stared at her, but she wouldn't look at me. She'd averted her eyes to the ground every Time she spoke. I felt like I was talking to a wall. I decided to speak with the young girl. Who I first encountered when I arrived in their world.
She was very young, not yet twenty years old. She had almost white blonde hair. Her skin was pale, her body very skinny, and she wore glasses.
After talking with the driver of the car, this little nineteen-year-old was way out of her league. Possibly new to the crack game. My trainee took the front passenger out of the vehicle and began investigating her story.
"Okay, I know what the hell is going on here. She already told me", I point to the driver, "I just want to hear it from you."
"What did you hear, officer?" the young girl said with a tremble in her voice.
"That you had all the drugs and refused to give them any. In fact, you wanted to fight them, but they were trying to calm you down." I told her with a straight face.
Her pale skin turned even more flushed as if all the blood was being drained out of her. The thought of those girls placing all the blame on her scared the hell out of her.
"No, No, No!" she said adamantly, "that is not how this went down. We were all fighting for the crack, but that bitch wouldn't give it up. Fuck that, I didn't do shit."
I must admit, I was shocked at how quickly she turned on them and even more shocked she was so forthright.
"So, who has the crack now?" I inquired.
"Toni," she said, pointing toward my trainee who was investigating her.
My eyes follow her arm down to the tip of her index finger. I then gaze beyond her and to her friend Toni. As I size her up, I notice one blaring thing sticking out to me above all, literally. Her enormous, very real pregnant stomach sticking out over her waist.
As the nineteen-year-old continued to confess their sins, I ignored her. I began to walk in the same direction her dirty, calloused, cracked, burned finger was pointing at. Ignoring all officer safety protocols, ignoring her, ignoring the driver. I was oblivious to anything else around me.
I approach the passenger, and my eyes are locked on her belly. I heard her talking to my trainee, but I didn't give a fuck what she was saying; in mid-sentence, I cut her off abruptly.
"You're pregnant?" I ask her while stating the obvious.
"Yeah, I am," she said with a Spanish and New York accent.
She was an average girl in height. Her hair was black and pulled into a ponytail. She had brown eyes, was wearing blue jeans and a black shirt, and had on a light jacket. She wasn't wearing a maternity shirt; she wasn't being very maternal anyhow.
"You're pregnant?" I ask again, in disbelief.
My eyes are bulging, and I am trying to contain the little patience I have. I can not believe she is pregnant. I was beginning to boil. I am still mourning the loss of our twin daughters, just a few short months before this.
"Yeah, I am, so what," she said with an attitude.
She rolls her eyes like a child and sucks her lips in. Her stance is one of pride, and she won't back down from this confrontation. She crosses her arms in defiance. Resting them on the giant bubble of a stomach.
"Your fighting over crack cocaine, in a fucking parking lot, at two in the morning, and you're fucking pregnant," I say sternly, still in disbelief.
My focus is solely on her. Thankfully, there are other officers here since I am no longer aware of my surroundings. As far as I was concerned, it was just her and I in the world.
"I ain't smoking no fucking crack," she says adamantly.
I can see the red on her face, even in this low light. I can't tell if it's embarrassment or genuine anger at the fact I am judging her. But when you're in a crack-filled car bearing a child, I will judge your character.
"That's not what she said." I point back at the blonde, "In fact, she said you have the crack on you. She must not think too highly of you. And honestly, I'm not right now either."
"I ain't smoking no crack," she said again, getting more angry. "I don't give a fuck what she says."
"Bullshit, you aren't smoking crack. And your fucking pregnant!" My voice elevates, cutting her off before she can finish a thought.
She patiently waits for me to finish my rant.
"Let me tell you something, Mr. Officer, I may smoke a little weed and snort some cocaine, but I ain't smoking no crack; I got twins in here." Placing both hands on the sides of her stomach, she grabs her belly and lifts it up.
My demeanor blew up within me, and the debris spewed from my mouth with all the anger of a two-year-old being told no. I pointed my finger at her and started to yell whatever came into my mind. My voice raised higher and higher as hearing about her twins continued to be absorbed through my fragile exterior and into my being.
Another officer pulls me back by grabbing the rear of my gun belt as I continue my verbal tirade. He uses the momentum of my attempt to work out of his grasp by swinging me around in a semi-circle. He bear-hugs me and pushes me away like an offensive lineman defending against a defensive lineman protecting his quarterback.
He backs me into the side of my police car and braces me against it as I continue to yell. The crack-smoking pregnant female is just staring at me, unable to move, not fully understanding why I am taking it personally.
After I calmed down, I had to sit in my patrol car. Removing myself from the situation. It became too personal for me, and I could not work through my pain and anger to follow through with the rest of the investigation. My supervisor assigned it and my trainee to someone else for the night, and I went home.
It always bothered me that I never gave her my card, thinking that maybe I could adopt the children when they were born.
This incident is something that will stick with me for all my days. It was a sad story to tell Mimie. It amazed us how ungrateful some people were that they had a gift to procreate.
The honor bestowed on them to continue the human race. This wasn't a political debate about a woman's right to choose. It was more of a moral discussion about the choices she made throughout her life.
It's a story I'd share again over our breakfast on this day as we talked about the potential of losing this pregnancy in its infancy. The idea that we had to struggle knowing that we would be excellent parents and the knowledge that there were others, like the girl with the twins, who didn't appreciate that gift, seemed unfair. But whoever said life was.
PART VII JULY 2ND, 2012 at 3:00pm Est.
1,856 Words
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In many ways I can understand your outrage at this girl, I know that I had a miscarriage and never got pregnant again. It was so devastating not having a baby when my whole life thats all I ever wanted was to grow up and have a baby or babies and make my life so complete. I know how you felt when here is this person that has and takes it so lightly when it means the world to you. Your only real Chris and I feel you! I have examined this feeling over and over again. Why did I ignore people that were good and pregnant and had good capabilities of being an excellant parent? I was so jealous, I wanted that so much. I knew I would be an excellant mother and I could never have a child. Your so lucky to have your boys! May God bless you Chris for sharing it is so helpful to hear how others feel and having had the same feelings. God bless you with 2 marvelous boys and your a goood Daddy! You will be blessed again I just know it! DeeDee
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