Wednesday, May 09, 2012

For all I know I should have known

For all I know Erik's life was always cast in concrete. I had manufactured his genes. I had built him up with whatever got into my system. I nourished him until he was not quite ready to escape from the confines of my womb. I know I did the best I could considering the dearth of information that was available to me then, in 1969/70. I knew more than some, and less than others. But I did have all the best intentions to build Erik into a good one. I trusted that the food I ate was wholesome. I trusted that the water I drank was free from contamination. I implicitly depended on the doctors who shepherded me through my pregnancy.

So, what happened. Something went out of control early while Erik was still dreaming of scampering through the woods. He was going to climb mountains. He wanted to make beautiful music. And art, he was going to draw and paint and see the world with new eyes.

He was not even born then and my dreams were his dreams. But wait a minute, I didn't dream at all. I can't remember anything about any of those dreams. Is that the moment that something went wrong? I didn't dream. Anyway, I presume he had those dreams because you got to have dreams to make it through life. It's too scary otherwise.

There was something back then that must have gone awry. Did I drink more wine than I should have around Christmas when Erik was conceived? What about the visit to the dentist who inserted a load of amalgam (mercury) in my mouth some time in February 1970. What about that rubella vaccine that had just been perfected (perfected?). The doctor recommended it to me so that my child would not have congenital rubella syndrome. What a laugh, I was worried about congenital rubella syndrome. Was I wrong in agreeing to that? In retrospect it seems misguided to want to prevent a syndrome by using a vaccine at a time when the baby is at its most vulnerable. The worst one was the aerosol at the Amway party. It gave my body warning. I had enough.

I trusted, I trusted, and I trusted over again.

When he was born in August, he looked fine the minute I laid eyes on him. That was the last minute that Erik actually was OK. Then the bad deal began. And I couldn't do anything about it. I was helpless in the face of the disaster of a lifetime. That life lasted 40 years and it was not accompanied by a lucky star. I wished I could have known more to allow those dreams to be realized.


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