I stretch and breathe.
I expand and reach out
to touch a lock of hair.
It is never out of place
even as it grows and gets cut
It is still the same self.
The scale inches up
more and more each visit
to a specialist’s office.
Do I dare to look?
If I don’t see it,
it doesn’t truly exist, right?
I see myself as the same me
though the outerwear has morphed
grown no longer so firm
and fertile.
How I feel so outside of myself.
Disconnected from my center.
The space that grew and bore
two beautiful children.
I marvel at their beauty,
their perfection every day.
How can I find them so perfect
and me, who bore them, so imperfect?
Societal norms
Harsh words that stung
and played around
over and over in my brain.
Till I believed them as truth
words I vow never to say
to these beautiful babes
so full of potential
truly wanted and loved.
Is love really finite?
Can’t I find some of that same love
and turn it toward me?
To my center
to my current weight
and space I occupy.
I don’t want to live in regret
and I want to shed these old
stories, these old beliefs
no longer holding me back.
Category: parenting
Tips and shared experience raising children
The Forgotten Daughter
I was his child only
when it was convenient
To sweep into my life
once my Pepe was gone
To slam the door on his face
A grinned mustache, and dimpled cheeks
much like my own smile
I knew it was not to last
A temporary arrangement
until the burden and toils
a brood of offspring can bring
Much in his likeness
Quickly forgotten
And this is our path
a greeting and a ghost
a disappearance, a reappearance
Debris gathered onto the shore
carried by a great wave
discarded, unwanted
And I didn’t want to feel his desire
Only the attention of a loving father
and his doting daughter
not to be
in this lifetime
We are Sacred
We tend to work like old cars. Something goes: The engine. The body. The smooth flow of heat and friction. The get up and go. The pedal to the metal, as they say. But we are not machines or computers. Even if society tricks us, Influences us, Tells us otherwise. I am more than a widget giving an output. Yes, we all need each other. We are an interdependent species, Even when we can feel the most alone. Our time is sacred and limited Precious and potent. How can society run simpler? With less friction, tension and pressure So that what we do matters less than Who we are and how we show up? Maybe that is what maturity and the taking time To ask the questions brings -- Not just rote memory Of what we have always done -- That feels like important, sacred, fulfilling work And maybe a focus I can further explore. Today I am grateful that I’m able to focus On what matters: Healing and connection. Asking. Being curious. Showing up authentically. And maybe illuminating a path for my daughters So they do not fall into those same busy-til-you-break traps.
The role of a lifetime
I used to feel FOMO When I was at home With a newborn Watching everyone around me Going about their lives, Being productive, Going on adventures, Enjoying their freedom. Little did I know that those Tired newborn days Was the most important role I would ever play. I was making sure my baby Would thrive and have the best start. And now I see the foundation was laid. Not only are my daughters healthy, They are loved and accepted And given freedom to explore And express who they are, Who they want to be, With unconditional Love and acceptance. My role continues but has evolved. Our nest is our cozy little home Where they dream and play; Where the yard is a center point, A meeting place, a magical space. And I marvel at their growth, Proud and grateful to embody This role I’m now in.
J.W., a father
I never lived with my biological father. We never slept under the same roof, shared a movie, cuddling on the couch. He never got to hold my hand or see my firsts: My first steps My first day of school My first time driving a car. And I didn’t miss having him in my life Because he was never there So I didn’t truly feel a loss from the beginning. It didn’t really bother me During those formative years. My mother and my grandfather Did the best they could to fill in the gaps. They let me know that I was loved. And I felt loved Deep into my heart and bones. When we made Father’s Day crafts or gifts at school, I always gave them to My grandfather, my Pepe. He was my first male role model, along with my uncle. It was only when I became a teenager Did I first feel that loss, Feeling unwanted And unloved, even unworthy. Then as a mom, When my children had their firsts: First crawl, first bite of peas, First steps, etc. Did I realize that he missed out on a lot. How could he ever play catch-up, if he wanted to, and even the parenting/playing field? Now I know the type of person, Monster he was And I am grateful that I didn’t have to share A roof with him. I didn’t need his resources, His attention or discipline. And I gained so much: My independence My self-reliance My kinship with my siblings. We all shared the same upbringing. And I didn’t have to share my mom’s heart or her attention, besides my own siblings. And we created our own traditions And special days together. It didn’t have to be material to make a difference. I haven’t seen my biological father, J.W. Since I was 17. I couldn’t tell you if he was Alive or dead. He is a stranger among strangers. And my family has always been complete Even without his presence.
Shopping with Mom
I remember our solo shopping trips to K-Mart. It was just for a couple of hours And I was my mom’s shopping buddy, Helping to push the cart and being surrounded by endless options available in the aisles. A girl could get lost for an hour or two Just browsing and dreaming in the toy department. After our shopping was complete, We would go get an Italian grinder to share. It was always a highlight and bittersweet Because it meant our shopping trip was coming to an end. Plus, shopping always gives me an appetite. And not just for the potential goods and wares But the fulfillment that each item promises. I wonder what memories I’m creating today That my children will cherish into their adulthood. We never know what impression will make its mark When we’re living the moment in real-time as it occurs. It’s only in hindsight and reflection That our memories get formed and shaped Later to be accessed again at a future date. To be determined. We never know when a scent, a sound or a view will recall that memory back into focus to embody that time and space once again.
Christmas Day
We emerge from our winter slumber. It is still dark outside. The sun has yet to greet the horizon. The house is aglow Lit with joy and glee For Christmas is here. And the big Jolly Elf Emptied his sack The giving and generous spirit he is. The children can’t hardly wait! They’ve counted down the days. It’s taken so long, it seems, For this day to appear. The presents are lovingly wrapped In festive colored paper of snowmen, Santa himself, Reindeer and penguins. They shimmer in the Sparkling Christmas lights Under the tree. It's the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Let’s tear into the mysteries That lie beneath The paper and tape that sheathes its true contents. Paper is tossed into a huge pile. Opened packages are placed in neat rows. A surprise accompanies a feigned smile, Sometimes confusion Or a true delight. I savor the magic in the air Music softly plays A fireplace flame flickers on the screen. The kids sneak a bite of candy or two. There on the floor, Under the tree now bare Its goods all opened All before breakfast.
First day back
My 8 year old daughter (V) is distance learning. We spent the weekend clearing off her desk, removing the paper clutter; out with the old to make space for the new. My 4 year old daughter (L) has been away from daycare and home since March. Some days she has separation anxiety when one of us leaves. Today was a big day for her. She would be away from both parents for a good chunk of the day, around seven plus hours.
She protested. She didn’t want to get dressed and had become accustomed to pajama wearing most days. Comfort and play was key. She balked at the shirt Mommy chose and picked her LOVE emoji shirt instead. She wanted to play and this new routine was keeping her away from her toys and imaginative play. V got dressed and was watching a YouTube video on her iPad.
My husband announced, “We have to take a first day of school picture!” Begrudgingly, the girls posed in front of the bush. L held her pink bunny and a few toys from home to take for the car ride. Adorable smiles and a pose of the leg. Click!
We packed the car and headed out. L asked me to play music on the radio. With only commercials or annoying pop music to choose from, I pressed play on the cued up CD and held my breath. I didn’t know what I was going to hear. Fingers crossed. It was Depeche Mode. There was silence from the backseat. No protest. We drove out onto the street.
The first day. It was the first day of seeing a handful of school buses on the road. I said, “Look, a bus! It’s everyone’s first day too.” We pulled into the familiar lot of her former daycare. The one that was closed for so long. I heard her take a deep purposeful breath. Then another. She was calming herself. I thought, she is listening. She sees and hears everything. She’s been seeing and listening to me practice yoga and meditation, and demonstrating calming breaths and she internalized that. It became a useful tool in her toolbox to calm her anxiety. That is a win in my book and I don’t want to discount it. I was a proud mama.
We got out of the car. The daycare’s slide was wrapped in caution yellow tape. No trapezes swung on the bare playset. All the grownups were wearing a mask. We had to take a different entrance. No parents are allowed inside the building. L’s prekindergarten class will help form the foundation for her to be ready for a successful kindergarten next year. She held onto her pink bunny, now sealed in the school-required Ziplock bag. We held each other as she cried and didn’t want to let me go. I let out a tear too. The teacher said “Good morning!” And handed L a welcome goodie bag. She gave us a few moments to say goodbye and then led L into class. Luckily, I parked in front of her classroom window so we could wave and blow kisses.
It sure is a different time to be living in. Today I’m back to work. It’s the first Monday in a long time. My husband is at home managing his telework and setting up V for her day of google meets and independent work. We will make it through. We’ll run into each other’s arms at the end of the day, check in and share the events that unfolded. We got this. It’s only the beginning of a new chapter. A return to somewhat normalcy and we will always have each other.
Hedging our bets on an unknown future
Future tripping is not really a gamble but the stakes are our very lives.
The future lives in the unknown and sometimes we get that dopamine hit like the lever of a slot machine. Will today be my lucky day? Will I go pro or go home? So we go outward, discarding the mundane and instead wishing the day away to a future point.
We end up not appreciating how good we have today: Our lungs to breathe. Our hearts to beat and pump. Life force coursing through our veins. Our loved ones here today to share a meal or a hug. To think it will be better or I will feel complete or more organized/fit/healthy/alive in the future makes us miss the target. The point is that today is all we have.
Dreams and goals are important and we shouldn’t dismiss them and not have them. Just don’t let them crowd our vision of today. What small steps can I take today? What future do I envision? Why does it hold power and energy or attention over right now? What can I do this very moment to bring that vision closer to my reality? Ask questions. Take stock. Be still and listen to the guidance.
Is wishing away the potty training stage and loads of laundry that goes with it worth not being present to see her smile? Her full sentences form, her blooming creative play, her, “Momma, play with me?” This is where I am and the future is uncertain. Someday it will go by all too fast and be a distant memory. Today I’m in her life. We share the same roof and space.
I can wish the clutter and loud chaos away or I can see the bigger picture. We have the means to acquire all these awesome toys that allow us stretch our imaginations and connect with each other. I can witness how she’s finally grappling with her own body cues to use the bathroom on her own. And as in all learning, there are missteps and accidents happen. And I don’t want to miss it for a moment.
Hedging our bets on an unknown future robs us of what is happening in the here and now. I will breathe and I will play, if only for today, because that’s where I live.
All you need is Love and an amazing OB
(Here is proud mama and the amazing Dr. John Morton)
Whenever anyone asked me when was my baby due, I would state matter of fact, “Valentine’s Day.” I knew I was due around the 13th, but Valentine’s Day had a lovely ring to it. I had my heart set on having a VBAC. We were having our baby at the same birthing center and with the same OB I had with my first pregnancy because it was an incredible experience. (See Waiting for baby girl – part 1)
I only had two ultrasounds during this pregnancy. One to confirm that yes, I was indeed pregnant and the other when I was almost due. The birthing center was also a teaching hospital and I made an appointment for my ultrasound there. The residents could learn and I could bring my then 3-year old too. She even got to hold the “magic wand” around my belly.
We were having another girl and were just waiting for natural labor to begin. On Wednesday, as I was getting ready for my OB checkup, my water broke a lot. I called my OB right away, and he said to stay at home to wait for active labor to kick in before going to the hospital. Because I was a VBAC, I’d be constantly connected to a fetal monitor. So I followed my doctor’s instructions. We sent our daughter over to my sister’s to await the arrival of our newest edition.
I felt a lot of back labor and my water was continuing to break. I checked in with my OB the next day. As long as I felt fine and didn’t have a fever, we could stay home. It was the same scenario on Friday too. We did go to the hospital that evening to check in. But I didn’t feel comfortable in the tiny labor room they had available and my husband didn’t like the duty nurse. We went home with the promise to return the next day if nothing changed. I was grateful to sleep in my own bed that night. But I was growing weary of the back labor and not progressing. And my daughter was with my sister for three nights already, going on the fourth, waiting for baby.
So we went back to the hospital on Saturday. I was given a somewhat larger labor room. They hooked me up to the fetal monitor, and the baby was strong and perfect. I was having sporadic contractions. Active labor never arrived. On Sunday, Valentine’s Day, we had another gentle cesarean. My OB was my support as I got my epidural shot. I felt grateful and comfortable, knowing that I was in good hands.
When my pink baby arrived, she let out a snort first instead of a cry. She was here, my Valentine’s Day baby, just as I foretold.
Healing Insights 