Tuesday, October 9, 2012
I've been neglecting this blog I hate it. I had a goal to post as often as I could on my journey through motherhood and my life. Sadly, lately, it's been a struggle. Not because I didn't have time, or because I didn't have the motivation. It was because I just didn't have anything to say. Many tings have happened since I last posted. For one, I went to Peru again this year with my son, my little brother in law and his best friend. It was very hard for me at first, I got home-sick almost immediately. I dreaded being away from home, from my husband, and my high-speed internet. The days went by and all I did was sleep, eat, sleep some more, and go shopping for some necessities. I was sinking into a depressive state and I wasn't liking it. Something happened though around the second week, I got up from the bed one day and looked at my mother, I really looked at her and it hit me. This person gave me life, this person missed out on so much of my life, and here I was, for just a few weeks spending my time sleeping instead of giving her a little of that time. As much as it pained me, I decided to bring some of my walls down and let her in again. I started to bond with her. I knew it would bite me in the ass afterwards, because I had to leave her in a few weeks, and it would be heart-break all over again. But how could I deny her my love and attention? I couldn't. So we bonded, and we bonded some more. This trip, unlike the others before, was about finding myself within my family. I felt so out of touch with them that I made it a point to not care about it. I would endure seeing them for a few weeks every few years and then come back to my normal life. This time I changed things up, and it gave me great joy. It help me understand more things about myself and why I am the way I am. Saying goodbye was painful though. I broke down in the airport, broke down like only a little girl could when saying goodbye to her mother. I was nine years old all over again trying to understand why I needed to be apart from my mother. It was horrible! Alas, I left her, with tears in my eyes, but with a new feeling inside. I no longer just appreciated my mother, I felt the fire of love once again burning nice and strong. Fast forward a few weeks to today and I find myself back in school. I finally did it, I decided to go back to college. It was a long time coming and I'm glad I did. I have to tell you though, I was struggling. Getting back to after so many years of absence is hardcore. Top that with the fact that I got so sick I was hospitalized, didn't help. I got so behind on my homework (still am). But I'm not giving up, I am finishing this bitch and getting a degree when I'm done. So the point of this post is I guess, I'm finding myself again. Being close to family, doing things for myself instead of doing it for others, is helping me find Jeannette the individual. It's still a work in progress, I'm not me completely yet, but I'm getting there. It's scary though, I've been Luka's mom for so long, it's a like a security blanket. As long as I'm Luka's mom, I don't have to do anything for me, I'm always busy being a mom. But now that I'm doing things that are just for me, it's like getting back on the saddle after a nasty fall. What if I fall again? Well, I'm just gonna have to try again right?
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Not many things can be done in ten seconds.
Look for a pen, answer a call, fish for your keys inside your purse, those things take less than ten seconds no matter how simple they are.
What you would never think could happen in ten seconds is losing your life.
Yesterday was Ronald's day off, we went out to run some errands with the baby and we were on our way home.
We were discussing what to eat and were crossing the street while chatting away. Not long after we made it to the other side of the street we heard a screech, we turned around just in time to see it happen.
The crash.
A lot of things go through your mind when you witness something like that.
"Is everyone alright?" "How did it happen?" "Should I call 911?"
But the most pressing question in my head was "What if we would have crossed the street ten seconds after we did?"
The damage to the car wasn't too bad. There was a dent left by the van that crashed into it. How fascinating it is to see exactly how metal gives in when hit by another vehicle. It's almost as if time slowed down, I can clearly remember it, BANG! CRUNCH!
We were considering going somewhere else before going home, we even stopped a little to discuss it. All I can think about, what if we had taken ten more seconds talking, would we have been hit by the van instead of the car? The car didn't suffer much, but metal is more resistant than meat and bones. Would we have survived? Would my son be alive and if so, would he now be an orphan?
I didn't think about these things straight away, they came gradually. At the moment of the crash I kept wishing everyone was alright and hoping that it was just a scare.
Thankfully there were no serious injuries except for the dent in the side of the small car.
We fought, Ronald and I.
I needed time to think and I took the baby with me for walk.
That's when the fear set it, that's when all those horrible images of us in the middle of that accident flooded my mind.
Ten seconds, that's all that could have separated us from life and death.
I cried for a while after the initial shock had gone away. I was terrified of what I had seen and I kept thinking about how short life is and how fucking stupid I am sometimes when I cross the street.
Ten seconds, think about it, that's all it takes.
Look for a pen, answer a call, fish for your keys inside your purse, those things take less than ten seconds no matter how simple they are.
What you would never think could happen in ten seconds is losing your life.
Yesterday was Ronald's day off, we went out to run some errands with the baby and we were on our way home.
We were discussing what to eat and were crossing the street while chatting away. Not long after we made it to the other side of the street we heard a screech, we turned around just in time to see it happen.
The crash.
A lot of things go through your mind when you witness something like that.
"Is everyone alright?" "How did it happen?" "Should I call 911?"
But the most pressing question in my head was "What if we would have crossed the street ten seconds after we did?"
The damage to the car wasn't too bad. There was a dent left by the van that crashed into it. How fascinating it is to see exactly how metal gives in when hit by another vehicle. It's almost as if time slowed down, I can clearly remember it, BANG! CRUNCH!
We were considering going somewhere else before going home, we even stopped a little to discuss it. All I can think about, what if we had taken ten more seconds talking, would we have been hit by the van instead of the car? The car didn't suffer much, but metal is more resistant than meat and bones. Would we have survived? Would my son be alive and if so, would he now be an orphan?
I didn't think about these things straight away, they came gradually. At the moment of the crash I kept wishing everyone was alright and hoping that it was just a scare.
Thankfully there were no serious injuries except for the dent in the side of the small car.
We fought, Ronald and I.
I needed time to think and I took the baby with me for walk.
That's when the fear set it, that's when all those horrible images of us in the middle of that accident flooded my mind.
Ten seconds, that's all that could have separated us from life and death.
I cried for a while after the initial shock had gone away. I was terrified of what I had seen and I kept thinking about how short life is and how fucking stupid I am sometimes when I cross the street.
Ten seconds, think about it, that's all it takes.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Since I was a child I've always moved around.
At six years old my mother took me out of Peru to go live in Chile.
We lived in Tacna which is a city in Peru near Chile for a while, but then we had to come back.
When I was seven I lived with my aunt, when I was eight I lived with my cousins.
When I was nine I was sent to live with my father here in the US.
At fourteen, he shipped me back to my mom.
When I turned eighteen, plans were already being made for me to come back to the states.
So, as you can see, I've never been in a place for too long.
It's always been move after move since I can remember.
Today, as I was packing some boxes for our big move to our new apartment tomorrow, I was hit with sudden sadness.
I couldn't understand why I was so sad, I even cried.
Then I realized it, I've been living in this place for seven years.
Seven years of my life I've spent in this room.
I've gone through so many ups and downs, losses and gains. I grew up into the woman and mother I am now and this apartment has seen it all.
I understood that even though I was ecstatic about moving into our very own apartment, with tons of space, I was sad to leave this home.
This is a huge milestone for us and it's a great one, but I cannot deny the feeling of sadness. I've cursed at this house, at my situation, at not having enough space to do anything, but the fact of the matter is, this was my home and I will cherish all the memories I created here.
Goodbye apartment #1, I will miss you dearly.
At six years old my mother took me out of Peru to go live in Chile.
We lived in Tacna which is a city in Peru near Chile for a while, but then we had to come back.
When I was seven I lived with my aunt, when I was eight I lived with my cousins.
When I was nine I was sent to live with my father here in the US.
At fourteen, he shipped me back to my mom.
When I turned eighteen, plans were already being made for me to come back to the states.
So, as you can see, I've never been in a place for too long.
It's always been move after move since I can remember.
Today, as I was packing some boxes for our big move to our new apartment tomorrow, I was hit with sudden sadness.
I couldn't understand why I was so sad, I even cried.
Then I realized it, I've been living in this place for seven years.
Seven years of my life I've spent in this room.
I've gone through so many ups and downs, losses and gains. I grew up into the woman and mother I am now and this apartment has seen it all.
I understood that even though I was ecstatic about moving into our very own apartment, with tons of space, I was sad to leave this home.
This is a huge milestone for us and it's a great one, but I cannot deny the feeling of sadness. I've cursed at this house, at my situation, at not having enough space to do anything, but the fact of the matter is, this was my home and I will cherish all the memories I created here.
Goodbye apartment #1, I will miss you dearly.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Ok, so I'm all for having a few friends over to celebrate a special occasion like a birthday or an anniversary.
I would cook up something light to eat, have several choices of drinks and put on some background music to chat the night away.
That would be my way of course.
The thing is, I'm Peruvian, and celebrations have nothing light going for them. Culturally in my family we go big in terms of food and music.
There needs to be an array of foods to satisfy 50 hungry times twice over.
The amazing thing though, is the fact that it's usually one mom doing all the work, all day long!
So, here is my beef with that, how do you enjoy your party if you are slaving over in the kitchen since the day before and well into the party hours?
Today there is a birthday party happening at home and although I appreciate all the work my fiance's mom puts into, she ends the night exhausted and sometimes cranky. She spends the day chopping, and cooking, and stewing, and baking. Her food is amazing, don't get me wrong. She also charms her guests with her amazing cooking skills and they can't get enough of that.
But, is it worth it?
I'm not so sure, I would rather have someone else cook for my party or just go with the simple options.
I might be wrong here, keep in mind, I'm a very lazy person. I love to cook, but for my myself and my two guys. Anyone else who wants food can cook themselves.
Ok, mini-rant over.
What are your thoughts?
I would cook up something light to eat, have several choices of drinks and put on some background music to chat the night away.
That would be my way of course.
The thing is, I'm Peruvian, and celebrations have nothing light going for them. Culturally in my family we go big in terms of food and music.
There needs to be an array of foods to satisfy 50 hungry times twice over.
The amazing thing though, is the fact that it's usually one mom doing all the work, all day long!
So, here is my beef with that, how do you enjoy your party if you are slaving over in the kitchen since the day before and well into the party hours?
Today there is a birthday party happening at home and although I appreciate all the work my fiance's mom puts into, she ends the night exhausted and sometimes cranky. She spends the day chopping, and cooking, and stewing, and baking. Her food is amazing, don't get me wrong. She also charms her guests with her amazing cooking skills and they can't get enough of that.
But, is it worth it?
I'm not so sure, I would rather have someone else cook for my party or just go with the simple options.
I might be wrong here, keep in mind, I'm a very lazy person. I love to cook, but for my myself and my two guys. Anyone else who wants food can cook themselves.
Ok, mini-rant over.
What are your thoughts?
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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