Eva Mikula - Loose End

The years passed quickly and on the right day made itself known without having planned it.

7.

7. Eva Mikula a selfie at home, 2011

8.

8. Eva Mikula and her son Francesco, 2012

My belly was growing and my life finally seemed to go smoothly, perhaps also thanks to the rules I had imposed on myself starting with the first one: to avoid emotional jolts, nervousness and discussions in working relationships.

I tried to resolve any misunderstandings, conflicts, unforeseen events, with Olympic tranquility, like a true number one. I thought positive and this satisfied me; I worked hard so that no negativity could cross my mind and body as I was about to become a mother for the second time.

I protected the creature that was growing inside of me and in the long evenings in solitude I talked to her a lot. I imagined her small, small, looking up and listening to her mother.

She was giving me almost supernatural strength. At the same time she detached me from the disappointments of the past and illuminated the hopes of the future.

Yes, the regulator of my new responsible happiness was coming. I was able to bask in these strong and languid sensations, loaded with projects to be carried out by myself. The plan did not include associates or partners, I did not want to share my new life even with Biagio.

So it was that, when the pains began, I got into my car and, without saying anything to anyone, I went, for the planned Caesarean section, directly to the hospital.

I parked and arrived to the ward I already knew: I had done the tests and checks right there, at the Santo Spirito Hospital in Rome and it was the second caesarean section I was undergoing.

Everything went well and the next day Julia was born. I was in seventh heaven. The first question I asked the healthcare staff was: "Is she healthy? Is she okay?" "Sure" replied the midwife. "She's a beautiful little girl" she added enthusiastically. I cried for joy. The inner voice whispered to me, caressing my soul: "Eve, you did it again, I'm with you".

That day it started my new life together with Julia. Biagio and our son came to visit me in the hospital, I have some beautiful photos of that very pleasant visit.

I went back to my nest driving the car. Biagio carried the baby inside the basket and escorted me aboard his car. Entering the house, he placed the basket with the baby on the sofa and left. A few hours later I went out with the baby in my arms to go to the pharmacy to buy what the doctors had prescribed for me and Julia.

The pharmacy was not far away, but it was almost evening and it was very cold in that gloomy November.

The wound from the caesarean section, still fresh, caused me a bit of pain. I hooded and, step by step, I arrived to the goal. The pharmacist widened his eyes when he saw me entering: looking like this and with a baby in her arms, he must have thought I was a gypsy begging for alms.

To his great surprise, however, he found himself in front of a mother who, with all her strength, and with her baby in her arms, asked for the medications for the surgery just undergone, the necessary to dress the umbilical part of the baby and the products for post-partum hygiene.

Really heroic, as only a mother can be. Returning home I thought that in those conditions, in the first few days, I would really have a hard time managing the baby, standing up, walking, bathing her, dressing her, taking care of her day and night. I absolutely had to get someone to help me; I thought about calling my mother in Romania, but a bad memory came to mind. When she learned months ago that I was pregnant, she seemed happy. As soon as I explained to her that Julia's dad had died in a car accident while I was in my third month and that I had also decided to continue the pregnancy, she fell silent. She disappeared altogether, for half a year, an interminable time.

I was really alone, without even her comfort, but I was happy all the same because I knew that she, my mom, had recovered and was fine. With the treatment she had stabilized. Fifteen days before the birth, the phone rang, I recognized her number. I really didn't expect it, after that long absolute silence. Finally I heard her voice again, it was my mom. I began to hope to have her soon in Rome.

She began with these words: "Excuse me, I had to think a lot about your choice, but I came to a conclusion: a good parent is better than two bad ones. I am proud my daughter for the choice you have made and if you need me, I'll be with you".

The profound meaning of what she told me came from a reflection on her life and, consequently, on mine.

As a child I had both parents and both declared themselves Christians; therefore a Christian family, yet it cannot be said that mine was a happy childhood nor that my mother was a loved woman, except in the first years of marriage.

It came natural to propose spending some time with me, after all I was about to give birth to her granddaughter. She replied that at that moment she would not be able to move because she had to bring the flowers to the market to sell them and she did not want them to be ruined, so as not to lose a profit.

I was disappointed "I'm worth less than her flowers" I thought. The economic costs that I would have had to face to get her to come to Italy so that she could stay for the necessary period would have been a hundred times more expensive.

I didn't count for anything to my parents when they had their busy schedule. After the birth, however, I called her with a determined desire to have her close for a while. I couldn't move and had a baby who needed to be looked after.

"Mom, this time I need help, I can't do it, I never asked you for anything and even now I would like to ask you, if I weren't in this condition: please come, don't tell me no".

So it was that my mother got on the first bus to Rome; she traveled for 24 consecutive hours from the north of Romania and I went to pick her up at the motorway exit.

We met in the petrol station service area located near the junction; I got out and walked towards her with little Julia in the basket, a 5-day-old girl. "But you took the creature with you, so small!" my mother exclaimed worriedly.

I laughed because I realized that she still had no idea what conditions I was in at the time, what it really meant to be alone in the world.

Amused by this externalization, I replied: "I could leave her at home, so she made us coffee".

We hugged each other tightly, I was jonesing for my mother: I hadn't seen her for over a year. She stayed with us for two months; so I had time to recover. Health returned to its place and so did I.

I put the work in order, found a babysitter to follow Julia as I worked; I hired her full time with room and board, to have continuity and tranquility. I had fully recovered and re-stabilized. So, having found my full balance, my mother left to go back to my father, she was always apprehensive for him.

She continually asked herself a thousand things: "What is he eating? What is he doing? Who did he talk to? Let's hope he hasn't argued with anyone. Did he remember to lock the door of the house when he went out to go shopping? Will he have found the socks in the bottom drawer of the closet?". They were the little anxieties of a woman who, despite what she had endured, continued to be devoted to her man. For me this almost maternal affection was an inexplicable fact, towards a husband who had mistreated, betrayed and beaten her and who had plunged her into the darkness of depression, alcohol, pain. But it was her free choice and I respect her.