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.
Category: parenting
Tips and shared experience raising children
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.
Waiting for baby girl – part 1
My new niece is about to be born. As her mom, my sister-in-law, is nearing the 24-hours in labor mark, I’m reminded of my two baby’s births. Each one was as unique as they are. Today I will focus on my oldest.
My five-year old was a breech baby. I tried every available technique to get her into the ideal position: acupuncture, chiropractic, even the manual version, which I don’t recommend to anyone ever. There was a ton of pressure and painful twisting, not to mention the uncomfortable hallucinogenic medication I received. My baby girl wouldn’t budge. Each day I felt her hard head pressed against my ribs and little flickers of her feet near my pelvis. Her head was close to my heart.
A home birth was ruled out and a cesarean was scheduled. But just like my little headstrong five-year old, she chose her own birthday. On a Friday at 4:30 in the morning, my water broke. I rested a while longer in bed. I had a small breakfast, and then we headed to the hospital later that morning.
It was a blissful birth experience. Her fetal signs were strong and I was relaxed. It was kind of amusing and annoying when the nursing staff kept putting the fetal monitor on backwards. They were actually putting it on the “normal” way, but she was a breech baby. I was surrounded by my husband, doula, midwife and rockstar OB-GYN. It was a “gentle cesarean.” The lights in the operating room were softened. I had my iPod playing my birthing music. We welcomed her around 2 p.m. that afternoon. Everyone in the operating room stopped performing their job for a moment and welcomed her. It was heartfelt and special. She was hungry and began to nurse immediately while they sewed me up from the operation.
When she was a young toddler, every night she would rest her head against my chest and fall asleep while I gently rocked her. It was a cozy time, and I still have fond memories of it. She will forever be close to my heart.
When liquid gold isn’t so golden
My 16-month old toddler has a soy allergy. As a vegan, soy was always a big part of my diet. I’d have soymilk in my daily coffee, in cold cereal, in my smoothies, and in any recipe that called for milk. I’ve been fortunate to successfully breastfeed my baby for well over a year. But that soy I was eating was in my breastmilk.
The baby always seemed to have a rash on her face. She’d rub her chin fiercely on her crib sheets and against my shoulder. She always seemed to be teething. She also had eczema behind her knees, behind her elbows, ankles, wrist, and sometimes even her armpits. Even her older sister gets eczema. I attributed the rash to her fair skin, teething, and genetics.
At her 12-month checkup, they had to draw blood to check for lead paint. My husband and I asked if they could do an allergy test too, since they were already pricking her with a needle. The test results showed a mild to moderate allergy to soy. It also showed very low levels to oat, wheat, and peanut.
But it all came down to the soy. Since I was still nursing, I eliminated soy completely from my diet. I found a creamy almond milk I loved (Califa) and started to read labels even more closely. We met with an allergist who said she could eat products with soybean oil or soy lecithin (which appears to be in everything). My toddler’s face cleared up. She was no longer rubbing and scratching her chin. When I stopped pumping, I replaced the breastmilk with fortified coconut milk for her at daycare.
Last week, she needed more coconut milk at school. I still had frozen breastmilk in our freezer, so I sent that to school instead. Well, by the end of the school day, she had her rash back. She rubbed her chin so hard that it was bleeding. And she had small hives on her back. The breastmilk I sent to school was from before we knew about her allergy when I was regularly consuming soy.
Breastmilk has been described as “liquid gold.” And I’ve spent quite a substantial amount of time pumping and saving breastmilk for my baby. I had a vested interest in using it. But after her latest allergic reaction, it is inevitable. All my frozen breastmilk has to be tossed.
Now I can be upset or sad at all that wasted time and effort I took in pumping and saving the breastmilk. But I’ve decided to make peace with my decision to get rid of it. It’s not worth keeping and using if it’s going to hurt my toddler. And I forgive myself for feeding her food that she was allergic to. I didn’t know she had the allergy at the time. So I’m not going to carry around resentment or guilt. I was doing what I felt was best for her at that moment.
Is there something you’ve made peace with that you want to share? I’d love to hear your comments below.
I am not my mood
All this weekend, my 16 month old was driving me crazy. Changing her diaper had become a wrestling match. I would pin her down across her waist to stop her from rolling over and off the changing table, while she protested, “No! No! No!” You’re only 16 months old. You’re not supposed to be telling me “No” yet.
She’s a happy, content, cuddly baby most of the time. Now it seems like she thinks she’s a big kid, wanting to be like her older siblings. She almost climbed up the ladder to the top of the bunk bed within seconds of leaving the girls’ bedroom door open. I was exhausted from chasing her. I kept repeating to myself, “This kid’s gonna be the death of me. I’m going bonkers, bring me to Butler.” Not in all seriousness all the time, but the thought was ever present.
Last night around 4:30 a.m., my baby was crying. Not the usual, I’m half asleep whimper to a cry. This was full-blown hysterical crying. My husband brought her to our bed and she just sobbed and sobbed for a good thirty minutes. She slung her body across my chest, almost like she had me pinned down, with her face close to mine. I rubbed her back and took deep breaths to silently demonstrate calm breathing.
The crazy making self-talk melted as I held my sobbing child. I realized I was the only one making myself crazy. She needed me to be there for her, to make her feel safe and loved. She had me pinned down. And while I held her, my heart widened to that truth.
How my family ditched paper towels
I always believe that buying in bulk saves money. We used to buy the biggest package of paper towels with eight or ten rolls, so big that I had to store them in the basement. Our paper towels had a use for everything you can imagine: wiping up spills, cleaning counters and the table, drying off produce, and of course, they were our napkins of choice. It seemed like every time I went into the kitchen, I’d be ripping a paper towel off the roll for some purpose. We probably went through a roll a week and it always seemed to be on our shopping list.
A few years back, we bought reusable napkins. They were dark green and some had a pretty print. My husband always wanted us to use those instead of paper towels. But they were stashed in a drawer for years and forgotten.
Finally this past January, he declared, “No more paper towels.” He folded the napkins into a basket and placed it on the table. We began to use those napkins to wipe our faces and kitchen towels to clean up spills. Despite my protests in the beginning – we are a family with young children who make a lot of messes – it has worked for us.
Now I reach into the basket and enjoy the feeling of wiping my mouth with a piece of cloth. I don’t miss the chemical smell and roughness of a paper towel on my lips. I’ve thought about the money and trees we’ve saved with this one switch. There’s been an empty roll in our paper towel holder ever since, and it won’t be replaced any time soon.
What have you been wanting to ditch or switch in your life? Let me know in the comments below.
Healing Insights 