Or maybe I did, but my head refused to open that door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Daniela Salas, the woman with red nails, the one who had hugged my husband in Narvarte, the one who was crying for the child I was going to save with my body. Her face was undone, without makeup, with guilt coming out of her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNicol\u00e1s is also your blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The senior doctor closed the folder tightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMrs. Mariana, please don\u2019t talk here anymore. This has already passed to the Hospital Committee and the Legal Committee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio raised his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDoctor, this is a family matter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she said. This is a serious medical irregularity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do\u00f1a Ofelia began to pray aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHail, Mary\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her and felt a clean hatred. Not the hot hatred that makes you scream, but a cold, sharp one, the kind that orders you to breathe so as not to kill anyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShut up,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law opened her eyes, offended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow do you talk to me like that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow do you talk to a woman who wanted to send me to the operating room with a lie?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio approached me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had that face of a repentant husband that I already knew. I used it when I came back smelling of someone else\u2019s perfume, when I spent my rent money, when it made me feel crazy for asking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMariana, let me explain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t touch me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The nurse, the same one who had warned me, stood between the two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSir, get out of this area.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He laughed angrily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd he\u2019s in a hospital, not at home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That phrase sustained me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because in my house Sergio always won.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There I was still with my blue robe open at the back, with a track in my hand and a broken heart, but for the first time someone told my husband that he could not go over me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor took me to a small office. It smelled of antibacterial gel and old coffee. Outside, stretchers, footsteps, voices over loudspeakers, the noise of a public hospital where life and death line up like everyone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina arrived twenty minutes later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He walked in with his hair disheveled, his glasses crooked, and a bag of sweet bread in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI came by taxi from Iztapalapa,\u201d he said. Did he sign anything?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBlessed be God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he saw my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I gave him the birth certificate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His expression changed when he reached the medical note.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014Biological kinship?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela Salas was sitting on the corner, guarded by a social worker. He didn\u2019t look like a lover. She looked like a woman who had also had her floor pulled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSpeak,\u201d I ordered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She rubbed her hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI met Sergio when Nicol\u00e1s was months old. Not before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The world stood still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat do you mean when I was months old?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not his biological mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio shouted from the corridor:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShut up, Daniela!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor opened the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf you don\u2019t leave, I\u2019ll call security.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t blink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGo on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI worked taking care of Mrs. Ofelia. I cleaned his house, made him food, helped him with his medicines. One afternoon Sergio arrived with a baby. Small. Sick. He said he was the son of a girl who had abandoned him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I grabbed the chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI couldn\u2019t have children. I became fond of it. He asked me to check it in with me so there would be no problems. She told me that you were violent, that you didn\u2019t want any more children, that that baby was going to be better away from you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A horrible laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAm I violent?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina clenched her jaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow old is Nicol\u00e1s?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEight years and four months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt my bones go limp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eight years and four months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The date hit me with memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The operation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bleeding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The night Sergio took me to the emergency room because I couldn\u2019t stand up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was thirty-five.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They told me that it was a lost pregnancy of a few weeks, that they needed to clean me inside, not to ask why \u201cthat\u2019s how it happens\u201d. I woke up in a bed with a stomach ache and Do\u00f1a Ofelia sitting next to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s gone,\u201d he said. No way. God knows why he does his thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I never saw an ultrasound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I never saw a record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I never saw a body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I only saw blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI was pregnant,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio said it was two months. But I already felt something. I thought it was my imagination. I thought I was crazy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor asked for another folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The nurse ran away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela covered her mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know,\u201d he said. \u201cI swear I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her with all the anger I had left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut you did know that a child doesn\u2019t appear out of nowhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He did not answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The nurse returned with old copies. Digitized records, yellowed sheets, stamps from the hospital where I was treated that time. The doctor read them in silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHere it says admission for obstetric hemorrhage. Thirty-two weeks pregnant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thirty-two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not two months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thirty-two weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I put my hand to my belly as if I could still find the baby that was ripped from me there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWas he born alive?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor did not want to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw it in his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina leaned over the blade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014Male product. Alive. Transfer to pathological nursery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The room was filled with a noise coming from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was not a scream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was not crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was something from a wounded animal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For eight years I was led to believe that my body had failed. That I was not able to hold a child. That God had punished me for complaining about my marriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And all that time my son was in Narvarte, calling another woman mom and dad the man who stole him from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do\u00f1a Ofelia entered pushing a guard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a lie!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I got up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My robe opened at the back. I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou knew that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law squeezed the rosary until it turned white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI saved that child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe took it from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou couldn\u2019t support another child. You sold tamales on the street. My grandson needed a better life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWith your son\u2019s mistress?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWith a woman who was going to take care of him without being a martyr.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela lowered her head, destroyed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took a step towards Ofelia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou left me eight years mourning a loss that you invented.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t invent anything. The baby was sick. Sergio said that you weren\u2019t going to accept treatments, that you were going to prefer to let him die rather than go into debt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina picked up her cell phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cRepeat that, Mrs. Ophelia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you recording me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSince he came in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio appeared behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now he didn\u2019t pretend anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His face was crooked, his eyes full of rage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMariana, think a little. Nicol\u00e1s will die if he doesn\u2019t receive that kidney.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The phrase pierced me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because he was my son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My stolen son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My pale boy with a dinosaur blanket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that why you did everything?\u201d I asked. \u201cIs that why you pretended to need the transplant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio defended himself with his hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am sick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut you weren\u2019t the receiver.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNico didn\u2019t have time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd I could die without knowing who I was saving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He shouted:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re his mother!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That silence hurt more than anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was his mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But he used that truth as a knife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina stood in front of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMariana is not going to sign anything under pressure. And from this moment I request the intervention of the Public Ministry and protection for her and her daughter Ximena.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio turned pale when he heard Ximena\u2019s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That\u2019s when I understood that something was still missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat does my daughter have to do with it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No one answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doctor looked at the social worker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela began to cry again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSergio wanted to bring her tomorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ran out of air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cXimena?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf you gave up\u2026 they were going to do tests on her. They said that because she was a sister maybe she was useful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know where I got the strength from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I slapped Sergio with my hand where I had the line. My skin burned, he pulled the tape, blood came out, but it was worth it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t touch my daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Security entered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio struggled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do\u00f1a Ofelia screamed that I was ungrateful, that Nicol\u00e1s was innocent, that God was going to take my selfishness for me. Daniela sat still, hugging each other as if she were also eight years old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina squeezed my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe have to go for Ximena.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I left the hospital with my gown already changed into my clothes, but my body felt naked. Outside I smelled of basket tacos, smoke from the minibus and stuck rain. The city continued with its usual hurry, as if they had not just returned a child to me in a stained record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We take a taxi to Iztapalapa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the way I saw Eje 8 pass by, the fruit stalls, the tarpaulins of \u201ccell phones are repaired\u201d, the walls painted with saints and old campaigns. Farther away you reached the Cerro de la Estrella, that place where every Holy Week people carry crosses and pain in front of everyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought that women carried ours without an audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ximena was at my neighbor\u2019s, Mrs. Meche\u2019s, house. When she opened the door, my daughter ran to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom, what happened?\u201d My dad called me and said you were going crazy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hugged her so tightly that she complained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not crazy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That trust broke me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meche took us into her living room. She had the television on, a pot of mole on the stove and pictures of the Virgin of Guadalupe stuck next to the electricity meter. Carmina closed curtains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told Ximena what was necessary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No daughter deserves to swallow her father\u2019s garbage all at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen I have a brother,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd he\u2019s sick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cVery sick?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t lie to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ximena remained silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he asked:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you going to save him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That question left me defenseless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because everyone had used me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Nicol\u00e1s did not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s didn\u2019t steal anything from me. He was also robbed. They took a son from me; they took his mother from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was the most painful truth I had ever told in my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That night we didn\u2019t sleep at home. Carmina took us to a cousin of hers in Portales. The next day, with an order and accompaniment from the authorities, we went to Narvarte\u2019s apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela opened the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His eyes were red.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behind her, on the couch, Nicol\u00e1s saw caricatures wrapped in his dinosaur blanket. He was skinnier than he remembered. Pale lips, small hands, big eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he saw me, he smiled sadly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHello.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt that the world was bending for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not as an imagined baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not as a file.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With uneven socks and an old line marked on his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHello, Nicholas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at Daniela.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs she the tamale lady?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes, my love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I approached slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy name is Mariana.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy dad says you want to remove our kidneys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sergio continued to dirty everything even absent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knelt in front of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, honey. No one takes anything from anyone. Bodies don\u2019t hold on by force.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s looked at me seriously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo I\u2019m going to die?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ximena let out a sob behind me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to say no. Like I told my daughter when she had a fever. Like we mothers lie so that children sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But that day I no longer wanted to build love on lies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe\u2019re not going to leave him alone,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s lowered his gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you really my mother?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela covered her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ximena grabbed my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I breathed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The word fell into the room like a pot breaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s didn\u2019t run to hug me. He didn\u2019t have to. I was a stranger with mother\u2019s blood. Daniela was the woman who had prepared soups for him, who took him to hemodialysis, who bought him the blanket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I did the only thing I could do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t ask him for love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I offered him time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to love me today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd Daniela?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He hated her for her silences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Nicol\u00e1s loved her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDaniela stays in your story, too,\u201d I said. But no longer with lies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The following days were of denunciations, studies, statements and fatigue. Sergio was arrested for violence, falsification of documents and whatever the authority managed to name him. Do\u00f1a Ofelia screamed until she lost her voice. Then he asked to see Nicol\u00e1s and the boy said no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was the first justice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The second came when the hospital repeated the well-done studies, with psychology, social work and clear consent. They explained risks, times, scars, medications, life with a kidney. No one said to me \u201cfor your husband\u201d. No one pressured me with rosaries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carmina was by my side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ximena too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s sent me a drawing: a lady with an apron selling tamales and a boy with dinosaurs. Above she wrote in crooked handwriting: \u201cThank you even if you don\u2019t know me much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I cried on paper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Final Al confirmed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not because of Sergio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not because of Ofelia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not because of fault.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I signed because my son was sick and because for the first time I decided about my body with the full truth in hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the day of surgery, I was put in another blue gown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The same nurse approached with the folder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This time he didn\u2019t whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMrs. Mariana, I need to confirm that you know who will receive your organ.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at the name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nicol\u00e1s Herrera Salas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. I know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I didn\u2019t feel like a piece was taken away from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt like a part of me was being given back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Months later, I set up my tamale stand outside the elementary school again. Ximena helped me before going to high school. Nicol\u00e1s would come some Fridays with Daniela, who no longer wore red nails, and he would sit on a stool to sell atole de champurrado.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He still didn\u2019t always call me mom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes Mariana called me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes \u201cma\u201d would slip away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t rush it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
True love is not required as a notary signature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One morning, while he was arranging green tamales, mole and rajas, Nicol\u00e1s asked me if one day I would take him to Cerro de la Estrella.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo see the Passion?\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes. Ximena says that there people carry real crosses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched my two children arguing over who had eaten the last sweet bread.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I looked at my hands, marked by the dough, the needles and the scar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes, my child,\u201d I answered. But just look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because we had already loaded enough.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Or maybe I did, but my head refused to open that door. I looked at Daniela Salas, the woman with red nails, the one who had hugged… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4574","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4574","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4574"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4574\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4577,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4574\/revisions\/4577"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4574"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4574"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4574"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}