something concrete because we know it’s the right thing to do.
For this reason, as a way to practice what we preach, the editors of Escritorial joined Teaming USA in the course of producing this book. I can speak for myself, as translator in the project, about what happened to me when I joined. Helping to bring from Spanish to English the story of Jil’s daughter, Mónica, who was born with hydrocephalus, was an emotional experience. Working with our photographer, Celia Miralles who took the photos that would be on the cover and back cover of the book, was also very moving. Seeing the images of Mónica motivated me to want to help someone. I read on the Teaming USA website that it’s good to work for a cause we believe in, a cause that is close to our hearts, and I did just that. First, I started a Teaming group for suicide prevention efforts on behalf of lesbian and gay adolescents of color, LGBTQ young people in the U.S. who have no one to turn to. I donated my first dollar to the group and wrote an email to my friends, and all the people I know on Facebook, twitter, tumblr- everyone.
And then, something amazing happened. Since I had been working on the computer for several hours, I took a deep breath and stretched a bit so I could get back to work on this book. But I had such a sense of well being, I suddenly felt like I had to get up and dance. I found myself smiling, and twirling on one foot in front of the computer. Just that small gesture had made a difference in my own life, and the book wasn’t even done yet!
The Dalai Lama often speaks about compassion in a way that is completely accessible to listeners all over the world: our experience of compassion towards a single individual radiates outwards, and shapes our actions towards other people. Ironically, science has been one of the best allies in spreading the news about the value of practicing compassion as a way of life, and the Dalai Lama supports the work of neuroscience and psychology research that proves these benefits.
Indeed, today making books, coaching soccer, or carrying a message of peace and compassion throughout the world can be a very technical business. But helping one other person and feeling like dancing afterwards doesn’t have to be. That’s why we at Escritorial are bringing out this book about Teaming. Something so simple has started to generate millions of micro donations that are changing thousands of lives. That’s why we want to introduce you to Jil Van Eyle, and tell you the story of Teaming.
Mariana Romo-Carmona, Escritorial Press - New York Barcelona
New York City, August 7, 2012
When Mónica Was Born
The Mallorca sunlight streamed in every morning, intense at this time of year. Jil put on his white Hugo Boss suit with a matching shirt and tie, and proceeded to brew a strong, dark coffee. It was August, 1998, and his wife, Victoria, was seven months pregnant.
He opened the window of his large colonial apartment in the city center of Palma de Mallorca, Spain, and let the sea breezes flood the room. Living on a Mediterranean island had the charm of the sea being ever present in daily life, and that day was an important one in their lives. After the echo-sonogram, he and Victoria would know whether they would have a son or a daughter.
Together, Jil and Victoria took the elevator down, walked to their car, got in their FIAT coupé Turbo, and settled themselves in the comfortable gray leather seats. Jil was still young, in his early thirties, and had achieved great professional success. Having a child was, more than anything, the realization of all his dreams.
Looking in the rear-view mirror Jil Van Eyle could mentally trace the long way he had come to be where he was, successful, in control of his life. For him, it hadn’t been enough to be Marketing Director of Eurotunnel at 25. By the time he was 26, he had launched his own business in a new company: a fleet of brand new commuter buses that provided rapid transit between several European cities, non-stop, with attendants and a new marketing system. It was a sort of luxury Greyhound line. In less than three months, his company had surpassed all the projected bus ticket sales and, not knowing quite how it had happened, he had become a media personality, admired by everyone.
Jil kept his eyes on the road, but with a quick glance at his wife seated next to him, the awareness of this moment washed over him. Despite all his success, having a child was a last attempt at saving his marriage, as if that child could bring back the happiness they had at the beginning.
They crossed the city in a few minutes. At the doctor’s office, a young nurse, slightly bored, asked Vicky to get up on the examining table. Soon, the comforting figure of the obstetrician appeared, quiet, strong, and broad-shouldered, exuding confidence in his demeanor. He greeted them and began the procedure of spreading the cool gel over Vicky’s belly, waiting for the screen to show the image of their child moving inside her.
Almost immediately, Jil noticed the doctor’s hand moving quickly, in jerky motions, no longer looking at them like before. His pupils seemed trained on the screen, focusing again and again on something he did not seem able to find. What was supposed to be a routine visit was quickly becoming unsettling. Jil felt a sudden stab in the stomach trying to fathom the possibility that there may be a problem, but he quickly dismissed the idea from his mind.
Finally, attempting to regain his composure, the doctor turned his face towards them.
“I believe you have a girl…” he said, and then paused as if to take in some air. Jil suddenly understood what it’s like to feel silence stretching for a few seconds into what seemed like hours.
He became aware of a painting on the wall, of the color, of the ceiling, the room closing in. “And we have to run some tests.”
“But, what is it? Is something wrong?” Jil asked the questions, hoping to be told that it was nothing important.
“We don’t know for sure.”
“What’s happening?” Victoria asked, her voice shrinking to a whisper. Jil saw beads of perspiration on his wife’s forehead. Both of them craned their necks forward, trying to make sense of the image, dazed.
The doctor didn’t want to make a mistake, Jil supposed, or to say the wrong thing.
“If I’m correct,” the doctor began, and then he stopped. “I believe the baby has hydrocephalus- a serious condition. Babies born with this type of brain damage don’t normally live for more than two days.”
Now, the silence that arrived in the wake of his words was complete. Time did not stretch or run faster, it simply stopped.
“Hydrocephalus is a very rare illness,” the obstetrician added, “one that has an extremely low incidence.” With his face a somber mask, the doctor sent them to the Hospital Son Dureta, the most important medical center in Palma de Mallorca, to run further tests.
Suddenly the waiting had come to an end. There were no more memories of where they were, what things looked like or what color they were. Jil realized that the nurses at the office averted their gaze so they would not have to look at him in the eyes. Jil and his wife walked out into the street, distraught, not saying a word. Jil could not think about Victoria, about how she felt after getting the news, he could only ask himself over and over, Why? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? What have I done wrong? Haven’t I suffered enough?
They returned home in complete silence. Neither of them wanted to allow the words they had just heard to become a reality. Outside, the city was alive, unaware of their pain, unconcerned, crowded with the German and British tourists that had arrived to enjoy the brilliant sun and the sea.
On October 8, 1998, defying every prediction and right before the ninth month, Mónica was born by cesarean section.
