cupcake

when you do something enough times, you tend to go into autopilot. for example, the first day as a preschool teacher was overwhelming my first time around. but by the eighth time, not even 15 parental meltdowns could not shake me (which, for some odd reason, actually happened). through fire and brimstone, i’ve been a rock, as tough as a preschool teacher could be. this will be my tenth first day so i have a little cupcake at home with my name on it (written with yellow icing).

this year, the air was warm and i stood in front of the door of my classroom with a smile and balloons in hand. behind the door, a pyramid of kleenex for either the children or the parents. the parents and kids started to trickle in, hand-in-hand. i greeted each one and smiled on as i watched the parents snap a dozen pictures of their kids around the classroom. expected. then the kids will begin to want to play with each other, forgetting that mommy and daddy are there. the parents get misty-eyed every time, but, thankfully, not enough to need any kleenex.

i was taking a picture of a little girl and her mom sitting at the tiny desk holding up her name tag when I felt a pair of little arms wrap around my legs.

“tackle monster!” a little voice cried out.

I was startled at first but I begin to play along with the child and pick him up to ask him what his name was.

“my name!” the little child begins to exclaim loudly, “is Christian Cruz Jr!” and he throws his hands up in emphasis of his Jr.

“well, it’s nice to meet you Christian Cruz Jr!” I put down the boy. I was about to look around the room to find his mom or maybe Christian Cruz Sr, but something about this child caught my eye and gave me a sense of deja vu.

i look at this child’s face, a face that i must have known in a past life. his eyes seemed to have belonged to someone that i have once loved.

then i hear a voice booming through the classroom door. I knew that voice well. a voice that told me their dreams and big ideas over morning coffee and toast. a voice that once sang me to sleep at night for years.

“Christian Cruz Jr!!!”

the sight of him knocked all air from my lungs and the room begins to spin. when we make eye contact, i stumble but there’s nothing nearby to help me regain my balance so i sit on the padded floor. for the first time in years, i’m knocked out of autopilot.

Christian Cruz. A name so common that I didn’t think much of it when I hear it anymore. I certainly didn’t realize Christian Cruz Jr’s father could’ve been the Christian Cruz. But ten years ago, hearing that name would’ve struck pain through my sternum.

Eleven years ago, Christian Cruz was by my side when the doctor told me that I couldn’t be a mother. it was my 29th birthday.

Christian Cruz was supposed to be the father of our four children. we had a little pregnancy scare. we called it a scare because our families would have found it scandalous if we had a child out of wedlock. but Christian and I were excited about our little cupcake (we decided a bun wasn’t sweet enough to describe our little angel). he had big ideas for the kids and dreamt of them becoming great leaders in the future. he would practice making the best pillow forts in the world and sang la vie en rose to me and the baby every night. we were going to get married right away to appease our family, but when i was picking out what dress to wear to our intimate ceremony, i discovered a pool of blood at my feet and woke up crying in a hospital bed.

but i did not beg Christian Cruz to stay with me. i loved him so much i did not want to deny him the blessing of being a father. i begged him to find someone who he will not resent in the future for being unable to bear his children.

as i’m looking at what could have been, i feel a pain that i haven’t felt since i learned that i could never be a mother. i could have given Christian Cruz this beautiful little boy, too. instead, what i brought into this world was death and crippling grief. there’s no happy picture taking for that, just cold nights alone and pitiful looks from friends, family, and my students’ parents.

when you do something enough times, you tend to go into autopilot. i would get up every morning, look in the mirror every day and force myself to find something meaningful in my empty life. at least when i’m in autopilot, i’m numb to the pain. but as i’ve said, i’m out of autopilot. it’s like someone took away the morphine drip and i’m forced to feel this raw pain in all its entirety.

“Christian!” I got up, forcing a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Viv!” Christian, shocked, of course, embraces me. “Oh my God! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” I nod at Christian Cruz Jr., now playing with blocks with other children. I notice the wedding band on Christian Cruz’s finger and I try not to wince. “So who’s the lucky mom?”

“Oh, about that,” Christian blushes and begins to stammer seeming to have a hard time finding words, something uncommon for the Christian Cruz. “well, you see, the mom’s a surrogate”

shocked once again! i gave up being with him because i thought it would be better for him to start a family with a fertile woman. did his new wife have fertility issues, too? you mean to tell me i could have stayed with the man of my dreams if we just thought of surrogacy!? I suddenly feel betrayed, anger welling up inside me.

i open my mouth to say something. i don’t know what to say in this situation but i had to say something.

“Vivian wait,” Christian always knew how to talk me down which was annoying but the reason for our happy and healthy relationship. “there’s something you should know.”

all of a sudden a man comes up next to Christian and says, “sorry, babe, i got lost looking for the bathroom and i had to go back to the car to get the good camera.”

babe?

i look at Christian Cruz, a man that was once my world, heart, and soul. i blink in confusion then realize what it was that Christian had to tell me.

“honey,” Christian gestures to me, “this is an old friend of mine, Vivian, it turns out she’s junior’s teacher!”

his partner gasps, looking as though he’s figured out a puzzle. “Oh! you’re the Vivian Moreno!? what a small world! well, i’m junior’s other daddy, Paulo Cruz.”

“I suppose I am that Vivian Moreno,” I begin to blush. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

i made a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine to go with the cupcake on my way home.