"Terminate"

my pregnancy" states my daughter, Pua, as those words ring over and over in my mind. I am restless at this hour when I should be fast asleep in REM stage dreaming about images that I never remember.  After this weekend of listening and singing about the River Jordan in church and wondering why parishioners construct  a light kneel as they pass in front of Jesus who hangs up high in the church on a cross.  Gazing upon this figure that is repeated millions of times in countless Churches of all religions,  I can feel the comfort of his spirit letting me know that all will be well.   I've come to believe in miracles no matter how small they are.  I've come to believe that Heavenly Father hears us all and that our prayers do count.  I believe that talking with my soon to be 28 year old mentally ill daughter has some effect on her to the point of thinking about the harsh reality of continuing with her pregnancy and carrying a baby to term in the hopes of caring and loving a child with the fierceness of a lioness as she cares for her cub.  Something so powerful that only a female can only know.  Or to painfully make the decision to abort her child while in her first trimester because she realizes that her body is demanding the potent medication needed to keep her depression, schizophrenia, paranoia and the once subdued voices who are all rallying around her as if reuniting with an old friend to entertain, at bay.  She phoned me to tell me of her agonizing decision to terminate her pregnancy because of our talks of her possibly going on welfare, section 8 and relying on the Federal social system for help and no help from the father.  She tells me that she is young and she can have children anytime as I verbally agree with her.  I know in my heart that this can never be and am deeply saddened by how she feels as a young woman.   Her birthday is Jan 16th and it is time for a visit.  To comfort her, to hold her and to tell her that I love her very much.  I am very proud of her strength and the woman who she is today.

Holidays

I'm sorry for not writing anything in between. Life has kept me busy. My second daughter Pua is in Sacramento. She was in the hospital and is now at a Mental facility which has close monitoring of their patients. That's a good thing for her because she needs the discipline of being in a controlled facility, medication fed and cordoned off from society because of the effects from "falling off the wagon" can do to you as a young person. She is easily influenced, boyfriends come and go like running water and none of them really care about her but that's OK because none of them matter to her. She will take the "drink" or an occasional drug offering (inhaled or ingested) from whomever will offer it to her. As far as I know and have seen, she does not "shoot up" any drugs. She worries constantly about the medication she's taking and knows what ones work for her and which ones that do not. She is very vocal to her doctors and will let them know which ones make her gain weight or make her fatigued. She's a wonderful advocate for herself, loves to write poems and stories about her young life. Pua can get highly charged about a subject and is very passionate about life sometimes. Then there are the darker days where her voices have taken over and say things to her that one can only imagine. She has tried to kill herself several times by either overdosing on her medications or slitting her wrists. Pua will have conversations with them as if they were right there in front of her, cursing, angry and screaming at them to leave her alone. I can see the tiredness in her face and in the whole of her body when she goes through episodes like this. She excuses herself to nap and all the while she is awake and can't sleep because of the silent torment that her voices have waged war against her. To my little girl, now a woman, the thought of death comes easily.