So, there is nothing better to let you know that you are back in Iraq than to immediately hear people ask for “this” or “that.” It is a reminder that nothing has changed since I left and nothing will change after I leave. Give me, give me, give me…I submit to you…I can stay in my room everyday and I will not be missed as long as the money keeps coming in. Unfortunately, my patience is running thin these days and I am not willing to engage in the codependency game any longer.
Do not get me wrong, there are Iraqi systems to get what is needed—as faulty as they may be—but it seems easier for the Iraqi not to demand their system to work and instead they ask the Americans get things for them. Well, this is the 2008 me, and the new me thinks that in order to see them be self-sufficient they most start being proficient. I am taking the horse to water and force him to drink at least one time.
I ponder on my mission here while I was at home and I always resolved the main cause of my unhappiness—besides being away from my family—is the lack of satisfaction I get from this job. There is no self-gratification for my deeds here and the more I try to help, the more I would enable a handicapped army that cannot function on their own.
I have listened to people argue about what we should and should not do as far as withdrawing from Iraq; I continuously come to the same conclusion, how long? Who is responsible? Who is carrying the burden of this war? How many are willing to share that burden in order to make it work? What is our Country gaining from this war? What is the revenue? How is our economy going to sustain a trillion dollars a year war? When is it going to end and when is mankind going to find another tactic to achieve peace rather than by declaring war…
How can I explain to these people the principles of democracy if they do not understand them or know them? How can they live in a democracy? Do they know what it stands for? Because democracy is more than having internet, watching American movies—and making pirate copies of them—it is much more than that. Do they know? And when they acquire some concept of democracy and what it constitutes, are they going to be the democratic country that we—the U.S.—expect them to be? What is the end state? What are the standards and the concrete goals?
Fourteen years ago on February 13, 1994, a young woman sat down to put away laundry after taking them out of the dryer. When she leaned forward to put the socks in the dresser, she felt a sudden gush of liquid traveling down her legs. She immediately realized it was time…it was time to have her baby. For the previous six weeks, she had been in and out of the hospital just about every other week because she was being treated for premature labor. She was given various drugs, she was taken out of work, put on bed rest and finally told she could not even sit up for more than 15 minutes—even less for standing.
When I found out I was pregnant with my son Kabral, I was happy and willing to have him, but I was also apprehensive about raising a child. I reflected on my childhood and wondered if I would be able to break the cycle of emotional distress, l lived through. I wondered if I could be a good a mother. I was certain that I could care for the child but I also knew that to be a great mother I had to give up some goals I had for my own—at least for the first five years of his life. 
My entire query were answered the first day I walked into the hospital with contractions, the day that the doctor told me I was already dilated, and a delivery that early in the pregnancy did not have good odds due to the immaturity of his lungs. It was in that moment that I knew—for sure—that I wanted Kabral and that I would do anything and everything to make sure he will have a good life; a life better than mine and a life full of opportunities. It was then that I sworn, I would never put my professional or personal dreams in place of his; it was then that I became a MOTHER.
Waiting for a taxicab on that February afternoon, I abruptly realized that, yes, I was having the baby that day, there was no way to stop it, and yes, it was six weeks before my due date. I already had the walk through neonatal, they taught me what I had to do and how I would have to handle him. After 18 grueling hours of—emotional and physical— pain, hunger, thirst, and anticipation they rolled me in the delivery room where after three huge pushes a beautiful baby boy came to this world screaming and crying. 
My first words were, “well, I guess his lungs are developed enough!” and after watching the team of doctors that had gathered by the incubator examined my son carefully, I was told that he was healthy and that I could hold my baby. Kabral was 5 lbs 6 oz and 19 inches long and was born at 10:05 am on Feb 14, 1994. To this day, he is the best Valentine’s Present I have received and I seriously doubt I could get a better one.
I devoted myself to Kabral—exclusively—for the first five years of his life. That’s why I did not go to all the military schools, he is the reason why I put off my college education and finally graduated when I was 33 years old but know this; if I had to do it all over again, I would do it without hesitation. I am happy of the accomplishments in my life but I am happier to know that I have not done it at my child’s cost. 
Now, he is fourteen. He is the most amazing and handsome fourteen year old I have ever met in my life. There is not one day that I am not thankful for having such a bright, kind, and overall great human being as my son. To be his mother is the greatest honor given to me. So, today Kabral…I want to thank you for choosing me as your mother. I am sorry I missed your birthday but I promise I will make it up to you and I know that your Dad will show you just how special you are to us. I love you son, you are the reason I became the woman I am today. 
