"For thirteen years we were just my brother, my dad, my mom and me. When we counted, there were four of us. An even number, two women and two men, in a small house, and in a small car.
Thirteen years in which I thought that would never be configured by problems in the country. Confident that I would soon grow up like my parents, and that everything would remain normal.
But no, I remember that some years ago I insisted to my mother to have a little brother, and she always said to me: "when you are fifteen years old and you can take care of him for me" to which I refused emphatically, because I really only wanted someone to play with, not to take care of.
And as if I had decreed it so it happened.
A few days ago I found out that my mother is pregnant, already three months pregnant. Falling into conception in the month of September, just the month of my birthday. Casuality? Destiny? Witchcraft? God? Satan? I don't know.
Then I began to think that three is a multitude."
Hello steemit friends, with my supposed return I wanted to start with something I was trying to write about ten months ago. It's not complete, and to tell you the truth, I don't remember what I was thinking at that moment to follow it. It had disappeared for a (long) time due to school and emotional downturns, which I think encompass many things like lack of inspiration, interest, etc.
In all that time so many things happened, like I'm already 16, and time passes quickly because if I see steemit, I was 14 years old when I entered this network. I've read more, so I think I've matured a bit, or I just see different things. I got the best average of the whole school last school year, but in this post I don't want to focus on other things than my sister.
I tell you that as you read before, as in November my mom tells me I was pregnant, and you can see more or less how I felt at that time. With jealousy. And mostly in shock.
My jealousy wasn't precisely because they wouldn't "love me" anymore or that I would become a zero to the left for everyone for a new baby (it's worth noting that we didn't know if I was a boy or a girl and they already bothered me with I wouldn't be daddy's princess if I was a girl) my problem was that with everything that happened in the country, everything would be in less quantity, since I wouldn't have new clothes, my whims like makeup, enamel, etc, in extreme cases I would stop eating because everything is for the baby and that stressed me too much.
That's why I lived through three stages: denial/acceptance/anxieties.
The first few months, even more so when it became known that I was a child, I was still denied that a sister at this point was a blessing, everyone told me "when you're born you're going to love her" and I always answered no, and sometimes I was moved by the fact that soon someone else would call me "none" but I still thought the same thing.
Suddenly I got used to it, that without noticing it, I made baby jokes, looked for diets for mom, asked where I would sleep until I was given the opportunity to choose the baby's name and began to wait anxiously for her birth.
Mom's pregnancy was a little risky, just like with my brother. My mother is hypertensive and it was feared that she would suffer from preclossis due to high blood pressure and would have to give birth prematurely, so she had been recommended to take a medication that accelerated the maturation of my sister's lungs if she was taken out earlier.
I named her Antonieta Estefanía. Antonieta because Antonio is called my grandfather and my father (they wouldn't let me call him names I liked like Elisa) and Estefanía because that's what a friend is called and I really like that name.
The cesarean had dates for the beginning of June or the end of May, but that was not the case. I remember April 21, a Sunday afternoon, when Dad said he was going with Mom to the hospital because he felt so bad. Everyone in the family feared the worst and the doubt was eating away at us. Couldn't Antonieta wait another month? No, she was already having preeclampsia and if they didn't take her out that same day, the convulsions would start. The atmosphere was not so worrying, since with my brother almost the same thing happened and today he is a healthy 14 year old teenager.
Very late at night, the little premature baby was born, supposedly with respiratory problems (I say supposedly because when she was born she breathed alone), she was put in the incubator while her mother recovered.
Those few days were difficult, Dad didn't sleep, the family took turns keeping watch over the baby and Mom, and I slept alone at home with my brother without seeing the little person I was waiting for.
Thank God, on April 23rd, I was given the opportunity to see my sister, and I wanted to cry, I don't know if it was nostalgia or happiness to see her. She was small and skinny, had big eyes and a tube in her mouth from which some blood came out but the nurse said it was "normal".
That day I went home very happy because I managed to see my mother after two days and my sister after 8 months of waiting.
On the morning of April 24, Antonieta died. I will not say how I felt because I never know how to react to that news, I always remain without saying anything but not a tear comes out, just the day becomes heavy.
Although I didn't cry that day, many sleepless nights are dedicated to Antonieta, to the sister I wanted so much but who is not with me now, I imagine how old she would be at that moment, if she would sleep with me or with my parents, if she would already crawl, if she would be very attached to me, and I simply cry to a person who didn't share even an hour with me.
Antonieta vanished like the wind. She came and went. There is not a single photo of her, only the memory of the few of us who were able to see her in life or death. That's why I appreciate meeting her, because my brother doesn't know her face and he won't either because there's nothing about her.
What do you think? I think that she simply came to give me a message, which I would like to deepen to know exactly which one, but what I do know is that somehow made me more effusive. Because I miss her.
