Monday, January 16, 2012
I've always wondered what went through my parents mind when they found out I was coming to the world.
I know my mother must have been scared to death, I know my father must have been even more scared given his situation.
That's not what I mean of course, I mean, where they actually aware of the responsibility a baby meant? Maybe my father did somewhat since he already had one child and another on the way. Even though it was my step-mother raising his children, my father must have had some sort of advantage over my mother where parenting is concerned.
So that brings me back to her, my mother, not even 18 years old yet, harboring new life in her belly. I wonder if it ever occurred t her that every decision from the moment she found out I existed, would my life in ways nobody could have imagined.
I can't blame my mother for her bad decisions, not after becoming a parent myself of course.
We are thrown into this role so rapidly, no amount of reading and preparing will actually make you ready for every single problem that may arise during raising a child. It's just no possible. So I imagine her, young, beautiful, full of life, her future intact, now having to care for a baby, on her own too. She had my grand-parents of course and after the initial shock I'm sure they offered to help her out. But the question in my mind is, where is my father?
I grew up without him, he had his own life and I was raised by my mother who for the most part worked 24/7 it seems.
I know that she did what she thought best at the time. In order to give me everything she could and more, she worked non-stop, she traveled looking for better opportunities, she had me placed with different relatives each school year who knows why. My childhood was spent moving, one year I was with an aunt, the other I was with a cousin. Little by little, no matter how hard I tried to hold on to her, my mother was slipping away from me. I had my grand-parents though. They were my center, my rock, my sense of home. My grand-father died when I was six, my grand-mother died when I was 19.
I felt like an orphan for a while. I had my father and my step-mother and my brothers and my sister, but I never felt like I fit in completely. I know they loved me, but I felt like I was extension to their family mechanics.
I had my mother in Peru too, but she had her partner and two other daughters. They too had formed something I felt alien to. So who did I have left?
Nobody.
So this brings me back to the whole reason of this blog post, were my parents really aware of the damage they were causing? Were they really trying to give me a better future by bouncing me back and forth to better things? Would it have been better to just keep me in one place and enjoy my life as much as I could as a normal child?
I struggle with these issues a lot, almost most of the time I feel like I'm trapped, like I need to move to another place to feel free again.
I have insane trust issues, I have bitterness in my heart, for those who toyed with my life without stopping to think of how it would affect me. I wish with the strongest of devotions that I would have been given a chance to just live a normal, non-disruptive life as a child. To let me go to school in a familiar place, to come home to my grand-mother's food, to go to sleep in my bed where my grand-father built a closet that I claimed as a my secret hiding place.
Above all, I wish they would have understood that keeping me with the people I loved the most, was even more important than having "a better future."
I've learned from them though, I've learned from their mistakes. I've decided a long time ago that separating my child from me is only something I would consider as a last resort. Even then, I would have to be close to death for me to let him go. Because for me, family, unity, love, is more important than having more money, a better education, or a bigger place to live.
Again, I don't blame them, it can't be easy for my mother knowing that our relationship is flawed. That even though she gave birth to me, I will never see her as my mother, she's just a person I love dearly, but not my mother. It can't be easy for my father either, knowing I was his first daughter but was never there for me, that I grew up missing him first, hating him later, and forgiving him in the end. Still, in my heart, he is not my father.
I don't pity them either, they made their decisions and made their life the way they knew how. I on the other hand struggled and tried to survive. I fought against my own demons, betrayal, abandonment, sorrow, and depression. At six years old I already knew what all of these things meant, but nobody bothered to think twice about it. I was just a child who could never understand, but I was already broken. I've carried that with me until now, I cant' shake it off. I will always be broken, flawed, but I have hope.
Life has given me a chance to re-write everything. It has given me an opportunity to be happy, to love, to be loved in return. To have people who will not abandon me. I have the chance to tech this to my child and to my future children. Love is more important than anything.
When someone like me looks back at their life, they will not remember how much or little amount of food they had in the table, or how many different outfits they had to last them the week. They'll remember the people that loved them, the ones who cared for them when they were sick, the ones that comforted them at night when they had a nightmare.
They'll remember the love above everything else.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
"Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head? I don't know what to think
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring
And said, marry me Juliet
You'll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress
It's a love story baby just say yes"
Yes, you read right. We proposed!
Wait, what?
Our relationship has never been a traditional one. As soon as we met we were together, and just short after we decided to move in together.
We've been together for seven years now and marriage seems like a formality.
We love each other and we want to be together until life decides we've had enough.
But, in my heart, I'm still just a girl who has had from time to time the illusion of a wedding, walking down the isle until I see him, my true love.
Then we look into each other's eyes and swear to be together until the end of time.
So, it was natural that when the moment came, we would decided together how we were going to do this. We talk about everything and the subject came up.
I said "I think we should get married already, there is no point in waiting really"
He looked skeptical, what was the point?
It's not like we were single, we belong to each other.
We have a son together and we plan to raise him and all the others to come together.
Still, he said "we'll see ok, we need to figure out when to get the ring. Do I get a ring too or just you?"
I laughed at this, I think he as confusing wedding bands with engagement rings. I wanted both.
We kept talking about it and he said that maybe we could go out and look for a ring on black Friday. I told him he was insane, black Friday is not the time to search for a wedding ring unless you already know what you want.
I said no.
"Let's go today."
"No!"
"It's the perfect time," I said.
*silence*
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Ok, let's do it, let's go get you a ring."
I couldn't believe it!
"Are you sure, right now?"
"Yes, right now, you're right, let's just do it, let's go."
And on we went to pick out a ring. A beautiful simple, dainty diamond ring.
I always envisioned a pink diamond but I'm sure those cost a fortune and I know that another type of rock would not do it for him.
So we got a diamond.
When we made the purchase, we looked at each other and just stared.
I was looking at the person whose eyes said everything.
His eyes were shouting I love yous and I'm happy.
I wanted to cry, but I kept my composure.
No, he didn't kneel down on one knee, and no, he didn't utter those famous "Will you marry me?" words either.
We just looked at each other and everything that needed to be said was said.
Everything felt right, I felt like a future princess bride and he was my prince.
He's always been my prince.
Now, we won't be having a big wedding, there will not be a reception. Nothing out of the ordinary really.
This is for us, just a small reunion with a couple of my friends and our family.
I don't have pictures of the ring at the moment, they are holding it to be re-sized for me. As soon as I get it back I'll post picture of it. It's gorgeouful!
Well, that's my love story.
A story that started with complete strangers falling in love and is leading to the happiest day of our lives (besides the birth of our son).
:D
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Notice how I worded the title?
I didn't say breastfeed, I said give baby breastmilk.
I'm a serious breastfeeding advocate. Wherever I go I talk about my experience with breastfeeding and how beautifully my son has grown thanks to that.
I am NOT against synthetic milk though, I think that we as parents come by difficult times and difficult choices need to be made. If you and your family have gone the formula feeding route, all I hope for is that it was an informed decision and not something you took lightly.
Breast milk is, has been, and will always be the best and most natural way to feed a baby. There is no point in trying to compare it to synthetic milk, it just doesn't compare.
Does that mean that feeding your child formula is bad?
Well no of course.
I just believe that if you can feed your child the best possible thing for him or her to thrive, then you should seriously go all out in trying to make it happen.
This brings me to an interesting story I saw months ago no television.
It was an interview with Sir Elton John and his partner where they talked about their infant.
As you know, they are both male parents and therefore they have no breastmilk to offer their baby.
Still, they understood that the best food they could give their child was breast-milk, so they had the surrogate mother deliver the expressed liquid gold to them.
How insanely wonderful is that?
Not only do they get to bond with their wonderful baby by feeding him together, but they are giving him the nourishment he needs, straight from the mother that carried him until birth.
Yes, they could have gone the easier route and just fed him formula, but no, they went the extra step and decided to give him breast-milk.
That my friends is what you call exceptional parenting. I salute this wonderful couple for understanding how amazing this is for their son.
So how does this apply to you?
Well if you find a baby feeding on your breast gross, or maybe it is too painful.
If you've tried and tried and no matter what you cannot properly breastfeed your child even though in your heart of hearts you seriously want to, maybe bottle-feeding with breast-milk is for you.
If you can express your own breast-milk that would be wonderful. It is time consuming, and it does need to be done around the clock at first otherwise your supply goes down, but it is so totally worth it.
I am both grateful and lucky to have had so much support while I started to breastfeed Luka. I was ready to give up only a couple of weeks into it, but everyone was so encouraging and that helped me keep going.
After all, all the women in my family have breastfed their children, most of them until two years of age. Who was I to break the tradition.
No no, I'm just kidding, I didn't do it to follow a silly tradition, I did because this was the only thing that I could give my child that nobody else could, and it was the only thing that helped him grow to such an enormous size and become such an intelligent individual.
I'm so sorry, I've seem to be rambling.
Breast-milk, the best option.
Expressed breast-milk, the second best option.
Donated expressed breast-milk, the third best option.
Anything else is good, not the best, but good.
I'm very sorry if I have offended anyone with this post. My intention is not to bash or look down on anybody not breastfeeding their little ones. You do what you can as a parent and you should be proud of your decisions so long as you have informed yourself of what you are doing and do not take anything lightly when it comes to your child.
Some amazing breastfeeding communities online are
http://www.facebook.com/TheLeakyBoob - Real women online at all times ready to answer all your questions regarding breast-feeding, co-sleeping and all things baby!
http://www.hm4hb.net/ - You can find local people willing to donate expressed breas-milk. Perfect for premature babies or if your baby is sick and you are not making any milk
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Saturday, September 10, 2011
I'm sure everyone has their stories.
Some were horrified, some were baffled, some like me, were heartbroken.
About a week ago I started seeing the pictures of the event, stories re-surfaced and stories were shared.
It's not about being sadistic or just trying to open closed wounds. It's about understanding how far we as a society, as a country have come.
I am Peruvian by birth, but everyone knows that the US is my second motherland. Sort of like my mom and my stepmom. I love them both, but they both have their own place in my heart.
In 2001 I was in Peru with my mother. I had been there for two years already.
My mother frantically woke me up very early in the morning demanding that I check the news.
Slightly annoyed I got up and watched.
My heart sank.
At first I thought I was watching a movie, you know one of those war movies where the director has visions of destroying NYC?
I changed the channel, same picture, I changed it again, but the picture on the screen didn't change.
One of the towers was on fire...
I demanded an explanation, what was going on?
My family informed me that a plane had accidentally crashed.
Then it happened, another plane hit.
I couldn't bare it, I felt the room spinning, the hair on my arms stood up like thorns. My body ached.
Still groggy I was trying to make sense of it all, why were planes crashing?
You must understand, the news we get in Peru aren't the same as we get here in the US. We didn't have the full story.
After a while of watching the horrific sight I came to an alarming realization.
My family.
My stepmom, brothers, sister...
I wanted to call them but I had no money. I cried so much not knowing.
Were they safe?
I knew that they didn't live close by, but NYC is a place to visit, what if they had decided to visit the city that same day.
All of these thoughts crossed my mind and I was going insane.
I finally found a way to call, but the calls were not going through. There was an emergency number to call but all I got was answering machines.
On top of that worry, I was also experiencing physical pain. My country was hurting and there was nothing I could do about it.
This is one of those situations where you think "Gosh I was I was there!"
I wanted to take a plane, I wanted to go there and help.
At sixteen years old I was ready to come and defend my country.
I know it sounds silly, but there was so much frustration. All I could was cry.
Then next few months were bad.
I did finally managed to get a hold of family, they were all fine.
The thing is, nothing was the same.
I felt hollow, I felt hurt.
Every time the news showed the plane crashing on the towers I had to leave the room.
People were obsessed!
Now, ten years later, it still hurts.
Images bring back memories.
Seeing pictures of the burning towers, people jumping, people running, dead.
It's heartbreaking, our country was broken.
I think now we've healed, but the scars still show.
It is today, ten years later that I realize that even though all of the changes to security do not suit us as well as we'd like to, they are precautions.
Better safe than sorry right?
I wish that we never have to go through something like that again.
I hope that the war end, it's not over yet right?
I hope with all of my heart that the human race learns to have a little more compassion, a little more heart, a little more respect for other human beings.
I'm not sure where I wanted to get with this post, I just felt the need to express how I felt then and how I feel now.
Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
Stay safe everyone, always.
Some were horrified, some were baffled, some like me, were heartbroken.
About a week ago I started seeing the pictures of the event, stories re-surfaced and stories were shared.
It's not about being sadistic or just trying to open closed wounds. It's about understanding how far we as a society, as a country have come.
I am Peruvian by birth, but everyone knows that the US is my second motherland. Sort of like my mom and my stepmom. I love them both, but they both have their own place in my heart.
In 2001 I was in Peru with my mother. I had been there for two years already.
My mother frantically woke me up very early in the morning demanding that I check the news.
Slightly annoyed I got up and watched.
My heart sank.
At first I thought I was watching a movie, you know one of those war movies where the director has visions of destroying NYC?
I changed the channel, same picture, I changed it again, but the picture on the screen didn't change.
One of the towers was on fire...
I demanded an explanation, what was going on?
My family informed me that a plane had accidentally crashed.
Then it happened, another plane hit.
I couldn't bare it, I felt the room spinning, the hair on my arms stood up like thorns. My body ached.
Still groggy I was trying to make sense of it all, why were planes crashing?
You must understand, the news we get in Peru aren't the same as we get here in the US. We didn't have the full story.
After a while of watching the horrific sight I came to an alarming realization.
My family.
My stepmom, brothers, sister...
I wanted to call them but I had no money. I cried so much not knowing.
Were they safe?
I knew that they didn't live close by, but NYC is a place to visit, what if they had decided to visit the city that same day.
All of these thoughts crossed my mind and I was going insane.
I finally found a way to call, but the calls were not going through. There was an emergency number to call but all I got was answering machines.
On top of that worry, I was also experiencing physical pain. My country was hurting and there was nothing I could do about it.
This is one of those situations where you think "Gosh I was I was there!"
I wanted to take a plane, I wanted to go there and help.
At sixteen years old I was ready to come and defend my country.
I know it sounds silly, but there was so much frustration. All I could was cry.
Then next few months were bad.
I did finally managed to get a hold of family, they were all fine.
The thing is, nothing was the same.
I felt hollow, I felt hurt.
Every time the news showed the plane crashing on the towers I had to leave the room.
People were obsessed!
Now, ten years later, it still hurts.
Images bring back memories.
Seeing pictures of the burning towers, people jumping, people running, dead.
It's heartbreaking, our country was broken.
I think now we've healed, but the scars still show.
It is today, ten years later that I realize that even though all of the changes to security do not suit us as well as we'd like to, they are precautions.
Better safe than sorry right?
I wish that we never have to go through something like that again.
I hope that the war end, it's not over yet right?
I hope with all of my heart that the human race learns to have a little more compassion, a little more heart, a little more respect for other human beings.
I'm not sure where I wanted to get with this post, I just felt the need to express how I felt then and how I feel now.
Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
Stay safe everyone, always.
Friday, September 2, 2011
If you were to randomly come visit us without warning and see my two year old just being himself, you would be horrified!
He would be either dripping wet from his hair, have a big stain on his shirt, or have something mushy around his hands and feet.
Worse case scenario, he would have all three of those things going on at the same time.
No, I am not neglecting my child, yes he does take baths and no I am not spoiling him.
I just let him be messy.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen those mothers either in the park or in their homes (my family) obsessing about their kids getting dirty. I understand that people don't like to see their kids dirty, but think about this, at the end of the day, do they really remain clean? Most likely your answer will be no.
Kids have this amazing ability of getting dirty no matter what you do. They grab things they aren't supposed and stick them in places you wouldn't even imagine they would fit in.
Luka eats on his own, most of the time half of the food doesn't make it into his mouth. Where does it go? Some of it goes to the floor, other parts are on the table and sometimes I even find some in his socks or in his belly button.
Now you may be wondering why in the world would I let him make such a mess?
Well, kids learn by playing and to them getting messy is playtime. Feeling food getting mushed against their fingers, bringing out all of their toys and lining them up in a perfect line, or chewing on a crayon like it's bubble gum, all of those things help develop their senses. Those things give kids a chance to explore, to understand how things work and how far they can push their limits.
I won't lie to you, on several occasions I find myself yelling "no, don't eat that, no don't step on that!" I try to remind myself though, it's only a crayon, it's only a ruined shirt, it's only stained teeth until bedtime when he gets to brush them.
The point is, if it's not going to hurt them, let them be. You're going to have to clean up the mess eventually, so just let them make the mess. If you are worried about your precious walls getting vandalized by your little Picasso, then buy him/her tons of paper for them to express their creativity. If you are concerned about your carpet getting food, put some newspaper or plastic on the floor, or just eat somewhere else where you may find it easier to clean up.
Just give your kid a chance to be his or herself. They grow up so fast and these years when they're little don't last forever.
Encourage them to get messy, it's nothing a shower can't fix right?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
This post is long overdue.
I'm not sure why I put it off for so long.
My baby has been two years old for a week now and I can't believe I didn't start writing this the minute that clock marked 12:19 am on July 21st.
I guess writing about it made it real.
Writing is my outlet, it's what separates reality from the dreams.
So yes, Luka is now two years old and my oh my, what wonderful years they have been.
I am immensely impressed by this small person everyday.
I know, I know, everyone says that about their children, but watching it happen before your eyes is just an amazing experience.
One day you have this little tiny baby who could barely open his eyes, and then all of a sudden he turns into this babbling, jumping, dancing, turning, throw-a-cup-in-the-garbage-because-you-no-longer-need-it toddler!
I mean, he's learned so much, and I know that that's natural human nature, but I can't help feel proud that I've contributed so much to his development.
I've put him on the right path to personal success; to be the best that he can be.
Two years have gone by quickly, just yesterday it seems that he was given to me all wrapped up in a blanket wearing one of those funny hospital caps to keep his head warm. He was so beautiful, I mean, he looked wrinkly and tired and to be honest he looked pissed, but to me he was perfect.
Now he has started to show his personality, his independence, his curiosity and his reasoning.
The other day on facebook I posted that my greatest achievement as a parent was to have a son who at this age would say please and thank you without being told and really mean it.
That means the world to me, because I know that as parents, Ronald and I have given him the best thing we could give him: values.
I know I must sound like I'm repeating myself, but what else can you do for a human being. In the end, when they are older and parents become uncool, they will not come to you when they need to make decisions, they will just make them, but what will help them choose between right and wrong is the foundation which we provide for them since they are infants.
Happy Bday bubba. I hope one day when your older you get to read this and understand how important you are in my life right now while reading this post as well as when I was writing it.
On another note, Peru was great, I mean it did not go too well for me but Luka had a blast. He met his grand-mother and they instantly feel in love. He also met his aunts and uncles and some other family members. There was loads of space for him to run around and many animals for him to play with.
The only sad part is that we had to leave and he is missing his grand-mother so much. It hurts me to hear him wake-up at night crying calling out for her. I know eventually he will forget a bit about her, and it's not that I want him to forget, but the sadness will wither away slowly until he can finally be with her again.
I miss writing about my life I should do it more often.
XOXO
Jeannette
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Today, Saturday July 16th 2011 sitting here typing at 2.23 am., sadness came to me.
It is almost the end of our Peru trip and although I've missed Ronald terribly, I am getting all worked up about leaving my family.
In three days time we will be returning to the states and God only knows when we will be able to come back to Lima and visit family.
I can't say I had the best time in my life here, I spent most of my days at home, the first of them I had no internet access and it was driving me insane!
We didn't really go out, spend our time with my mom and my sisters which is fine, it's what we came for.
I'm oddly satisfied but at the same time mortified, not knowing when I will see these people again is extremely sad.
Well that's about it, nothing more to add to that.
:(
It is almost the end of our Peru trip and although I've missed Ronald terribly, I am getting all worked up about leaving my family.
In three days time we will be returning to the states and God only knows when we will be able to come back to Lima and visit family.
I can't say I had the best time in my life here, I spent most of my days at home, the first of them I had no internet access and it was driving me insane!
We didn't really go out, spend our time with my mom and my sisters which is fine, it's what we came for.
I'm oddly satisfied but at the same time mortified, not knowing when I will see these people again is extremely sad.
Well that's about it, nothing more to add to that.
:(
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