Andre Lane

My son Andre Lane was born October 12, 1989, addicted to crack cocaine.  The whole nine months I carried him I was homeless, sleeping in a cardboard box between Port Authority, 42nd St., and 8th Ave.  Everyday my life was a living hell, and I chose to still smoke crack and did it anyway.  On the day of October 12, 1989, Andre decided that he wanted to come into the world.  Nobody helped me.  The ambulance didn’t come for me, so another addict, named Andre, put me in a yellow cab.  The  cab didn’t even know where a hospital was, but somehow we just ended up at Bellevue.  By the time anyone paid any notice to me Andre’s head was already coming out in the back of the cab.  That’s when someone noticed me and they just rushed me upstairs to the delivery room.  I didn’t even know where my child was, because they put me in one part of the hospital and Andre was in another part of the hospital.  Somehow, through the many times of me going to jail, my sister had become my emergency contact.  Andre was given to her.  Bellevue Hospital gave me three days to get myself together.  On the second day I left Andre in the hospital, went back to Port Authority, and continued my addiction.Two or three months later I saw some friends who knew my sister and had seen my son Andre.  They said “Yo Isis, you’ve got a beautiful baby!”  I was like “How y’all know I have a baby?  I left my baby in the hospital.”  When I found out Andre was a boy I told my sister I wanted to name him “Port Authority”.  My sister said “You better not name him that!”  Instead I named him Andre.My sister did the best that she could with you, Andre.  I miss you and I love you.