Tag: life lessons

The Constant Drizzle

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There is a sense of responsibility I have, for you, my reader. I have been told I am a good story-teller ( live, that is). I think Lei gets her facial expressions from me. I can’t hide my emotions very well, and so, when story telling I can be extremely vivid. I very much love making people burst into laughter. I really enjoy making people feel good. It makes me happy. But this week, I have been struggling. Big time.

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Every so often I find myself giving myself pep talks. You see, where as I am a strong advocate of choosing joy, it is not always the natural choice. I remind myself of all the goodness. The little miracles I see. But sometimes it does not suffice. I am left feeling cheated.

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My birth anniversary is next week and instead of feeling excitement and celebration flutter, I find myself feeling bamboozled. And it is ok. It if perfectly normal, and justified, for me to feel cheated. I shared my entire life with my mother, and now I don’t get to share it with her at all. I would tell my mom the silliest things that happened to me, because for some reason, funny and weird things happen to me all the time. And she would laugh, a lot, or tell me in her serious voice that she couldn’t believe it, ” Ay no, Lita.” I don’t know whether she believed me all the time, because sometimes I would act it out so dramatically that I would burst into laughing spells. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing my mother laugh out loud.

We had a terrible heat wave earlier this week in Los Angeles. It was HOT. Miserably hot. And as I drove into the garage from Lei’s school, I found myself picking up my phone to dial my Mom. I was going to tell her how miserable I felt and how the heat wasn’t helping. I parked, turned the engine off, and cried. It’s incredible how you notice every void left behind. It is even more incredible to see how much of my life was filled by the joy my mother gave me. Her constant words of encouragement and the words that stung when spoken.

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Love

It is hard for my heart to understand how life keeps moving when such a huge part of it is gone. I wish I could say it is easier this time around. I was recently asked how I do it. How do I keep moving forward? I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I could tell you that I simply eat a lot of kale and that makes it happen for me. Jesus helps me a lot. A lot, a lot ( as Lei would say). I find it so filling to list all the things I am hurt by, disappointed by, and am completely angry about and to let Jesus know. I tell him what I feel (the days I can muster words) and let him know that I am angry and that I don’t think I can get it together that day. So I carry the anger, the hurt, the pain around for as long as I think I can carry it and then I hand it over to him. I find Him much better at dealing with all the baggage. He always takes it, but I pick it up again.

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Papa and Lei

At the beginning of the post I wrote about honesty and responsibility. This is my point in this round about post, I have hardly felt ok the past 5 months. I work extremely hard on smiling every day and choosing joy. I have reminders on my phone, in the bathroom mirror, and in every corner of my brain. Reminders that I can and will feel joy come to me without so much work. I have to remind myself to be gentle and kind with myself. To embrace every emotion and not stuff it in the closet. I am a work in progress and my brokeness is being molded. Whatever your brokeness may be, I hope you know you can face it all with Jesus. He takes baby steps, I should know, because He is taking them with me, again. This season will have its end.

My Mother’s Joy

Dreams 

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Nathan celebrating gold in his school olympics

We all dream about things we want to do and who we see ourselves around when fulfilling those dreams. Actually, most of the time we don’t even question who we would be around during those precious moments in our lives, we just assume that they will be there. Dreams keep us going. They are our goals. We strive towards them every day, wanting to make someone proud, fulfilling our own desires, or simply moving towards something different. But what do you do when your dreams are shattered? What happens when your rock is gone? When everything seizes to exist the way it should and time gets cut too short?

Aside from crying a lot, wishing time would rewind and praying every second you can- I’m not sure what else you can do. Nothing feels right and everything feels incomplete. But you take baby steps forward, because you must.

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Me & Mami 1988

And this is what I’m re-learning once again. Dreams are not abandoned. They never disappear. They must simply be tweeked due to unexpected changes. The problem is, most of the unexpected changes leave us not wanting to go on. Those dreams now seem fruitless, because the joy in them doesn’t quite feel the same.

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Mother’s Day 2016

I was recently gifted a key with the word DREAM engraved in it. My dearest sister wanted to remind me that our dreams must go on, even if everything feels broken. Our mother was our encourager, she loved watching us grow into new roles and would push us forward every time we wanted to throw in the towel.

Crossing the finish line
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We did it!

I was in Seattle this past weekend, running a race with my sister. And surprisingly, while I ran I felt great, better than any other time, even though I had ran very little since my mother went home. I had to hold back tears during the last leg of the race because I could feel my mother with me, cheering me on, telling me I could finish strong. And I did, I beat my previous time and felt full of joy. I was proud for doing something I had no desire to do. Honestly, I wanted to stay in our beautiful airbnb and have a pity party with the gloomy Seattle weather.

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Nana & Nene Fall 2016

My Mother is not gone, her presence is just different now.  And while nothing will ever be the same, things will be good, it will feel great again, perhaps not the way I thought it would; but it will. I know it. And even if I don’t believe it now, I will continue to confess it over myself, until I not only believe, but know it to be true.

XO

When Life Blooms

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Entwined: Mama and Emme                                     Art by Kathy Bauer

A week ago, anticipating today, I sat in my living room having a moment. I ran through every detail to ensure I still remembered. I ran my fingers up and down Emme’s c-section scar ensuring it was real. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes it feels like she’s going to run in and say something silly, as any 3 year old would. I thought about what she’d want her birthday theme to be. I thought about how I would, as always, plan for a small party but end up with a carnival.

Loss. It felt so heavy.

And then Life knocked at my door. As I cried in silence unable to open her box to inhale her smell again, to touch the hair the NICU nurses so gently packed for me, to fold and re-fold the baby clothes she wore for such a short period of time, I heard Nate’s butterfly begin to bat her wings, practicing as she broke through her chrysalis and embraced her new body. Charlie (our almost 2 year old turtle) began to chirp. I could hear the birds outside. In my sorrow, I heard life. There are no words to describe what I felt, but in that moment it was as if I was being told that life was blooming all around me, everywhere, all I had to do was silence my heart and listen.

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The chrysalis

The anticipation of Easter has been hard the last couple years. I always felt so betrayed by it. Here comes spring and everything is blooming and there I am, mourning. I will never stop mourning; feeling extremely sad that I wasn’t able to live my life the way I would have liked with Emme. But this year I see life. I see it breaking through. The heaviness surrounds me but it’s not hopeless. No, it is not hopeless.

Today Nate got to decide the flavor of Emme’s birthday cake, mama and Lei sang, and we all got to send Emme heavenly kisses.

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To the heavens :*

XO

When Your Tire Runs Flat

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A couple days ago I was leaving my my sister’s place when she noticed that my tire was completely flat. My immediate response was, “oh, that tire is kinda funny, it’s always a little flat.” My sister looked at me like I was crazy, so I walked over to look at the tire. She proceeded with directions: I was to go directly to the nearest gas station and get it taken care of. I obliged. I got out of the car, pulled Elea out of her car seat and proceeded to go inside to pay for the air. I thought I was putting air in the tire but the tire wasn’t looking any better. I re-read the instructions and kept trying. After no success I finally reached inside to grab my phone to call Eric, only to realize I had no phone. So, I looked around and approached the kindest looking person, an older gentleman who I later realized was living out of his car. He walked over and said he would be more than happy to help me. The problem was simple: I never pushed the ON button. He filled the tire and then taught me how to do it. He expressed concern over my safety with such a flat tire and then went on to grab his own meter to show me what I should expect my tire to read every time (the one provided by the gas station was broken).

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Joy                                                    

Although it felt like it took me 5 minutes to do all this, I was actually at the gas station for almost an hour. As I drove home, I processed the risk of the flat tire and although I knew the car was driving funny, I was completely unaware. And even when my sister was trying to point it out to me, I wasn’t really concerned until I saw how the tire looked post air. My tire pressure light had been on and I still didn’t take the time to look at it, or at least to make sure it wasn’t bad. It is  a lot like my gasoline habit. I can get down to zero miles but it doesn’t make me nervous. I know, because I read somewhere (please don’t trust this), that when your car says 0 miles it really can go an additional 20 miles before it leaves you stranded. I have never been stranded but have come pretty close to getting a panic attack, when lost, running low on gas, phone is dead, and am in a completely unknown place (happened to me in December). Yet, I do it again and again.

So, as I processed this issue and my overwhelming amount of trust in my car, I saw a recurring theme. I am capable of trusting wholeheartedly. No problem. But most recently I have found myself teetering between believing whole heartedly in something I know can be done and surrendering hope. Like a tire needing air, I was infused multiple times this past week with unbelievable confirmation that hope is not lost. You see Faith is amazing, but no one said it would be easy. In the midst of the storm, you have to find peace and hold on to it. And while there, you’ll see the beauty of believing. Be the tire that gets infused with hope and faith, because our Father is your rim.  So even if you are left without air (or gas), you will keep going even if you wobble through, the rim will keep you upright until you can get infused once again.

XO

P.S. try not to go without air in your tires and/or gas. Trusting in your car is not nearly as good as trusting in God. Whereas eventually I will get stranded, God will never let me down.

 

The Unexpected Encounter

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Nathan’s preschool teacher has been sick the entire week and thus we’ve had substitutes every day. I walked into his classroom today hoping she was back, but instead the air was knocked out of me. My hands began to shake the way they do when I have too much caffeine. I squeezed Elea closer to my chest and hoped no one could see the sweat that was starting to form as my body burned. In a blink of an eye, it was Spring 2014. My knees shook and it took all the strength I could muster up to keep me from falling over.

Nathan’s substitute for the day was his old teacher, the teacher that held my hand through emails and gentle questions. She encouraged me at a hopeless time. When Emme passed, the last thing I wanted to do was take Nathan to all his classes. I felt ashamed. I felt as though I had failed my daughter. My body had failed to be a safe home for her. I had failed at giving her life. And although I know this is all wrong and completely false, these feelings overpowered me for a long time. I felt worthless.

His teacher emailed me and every time I had the courage to come to class, she always greeted me and Nathan with love. I remember trying to pick up where I left off because Nathan needed his mother, but every time I walked into his school, all I could think about were the things everyone else was thinking. Feeling sorry for me and avoiding me. I now understand that they avoided me because there was nothing good enough to say to a grieving mother whose eyes looked like they were on a short pause from crying. Those days were shattering for me. But I never forgot her because every time I walked in there, it was like she knew and she held my hand through the rest of the school year.

This morning, our eyes met and I knew she remembered. We talked about Nathan but neither one of us had the courage to go back. I wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug and let her know how vital she was to my survival, but I couldn’t. My voice immediately cracked, my eyes filled and my body weakened. I couldn’t say thank you.

I’m not beating myself up about it. Like I have said before, grief is like the ocean waves, you never know which wave will knock you down, but you must get up, over and over again. I truly hope she knows what a beautiful person she is and how her kindness still inspires me. And next time, I hope I can get a step closer to telling her.

xoxo

 

A Word of Encouragement

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Often times I get so caught up with the things I’m asking God for, that I completely forget about the things he so diligently provides me with. The last couple weeks have been a bit difficult for my family as we slowly enter grounds we have never had to before. Last week I dropped Nate off at school, jumped in the car and let it all out. I cried the way Nate and Lei cry when they want one more piece of chocolate and I won’t budge (serious crying here 🙂 ). Thankfully Eric was in the car and he was able to bring me back by reminding me of God’s goodness. And this is the thing, His goodness is so good, it is overwhelming. He is here to overwhelm the things that overwhelm us.

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In the midst of difficult moments, He is always there although it may seem as though he is absent. The more I calm my mind and let go, the more I seem to see his hand over my life. Difficult moments will always be part of our life simply because we live on this earth, but they don’t have to be hopeless. God delivers us hope. He has given us the weapons with which to battle against anything. Crying is welcomed. He listens and he loves us for who we are. He understands.

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Thankfulness is key. Do what you can for others because you can. You have the power to change the atmosphere of any circumstance. Be bold. Go about your day knowing that he will deliver, because he will. Perhaps not in the way that you expect it, but he will never let you down.

Happy hump day!

To be Brave 

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Yosemite Family Hike 2015

Bravery is said to be the act of being ready to endure danger or pain; showing courage. But it is so much more than that. We can all take pain or endure danger for our loved ones, especially if you have children.

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Nate & friend taking a breather


Life hands us so many things. Some good and some that we would rather hand over and toss in the trash bin. But that’s not the way life works. We must roll with the punches. Play the hand we’ve been dealt. We all end up doing so. And this is where courage takes place. Courage to deal with the worst possible news in the most positive way possible, even when it feel completely unnatural to do so.

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2014


I had a conversation with my mother this morning. We’ve been given some life altering news. We sat there processing together, while our hearts felt every emotion in the book. While I came in with the goal that I was coming in to comfort, I was comforted. My mother, she is the epitome of Bravery. She has fought breast cancer since 2001, and never has she given up, lost hope or wavered in her faith. And let me tell you, there been plenty of times and reasons to waver on this long journey.

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Thanksgiving 2016

It takes courage to say, no, I don’t want to undergo another chemo therapy session. I don’t want to undergo anymore. It takes courage to say yes to another chemo therapy session. Another radiation session.

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It takes courage to support your loved ones’ decision. It takes courage to walk the road with them, hand in hand, every set back, victory and tear. It takes love to hold on to hope, when little has been given. But we are not alone. We’ve never been alone. It’s always been us and our Father, walking in front of us, holding our hand, head high, telling us to keep on, keep on, because the battle is not over.

The power of prayer is remarkable.

The power of love is extraordinary.

The power of kindness is incredible.

     

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Donut love 2016


In the midst of change and an unknown future, pray for our leaders, pray for each other and don’t lose hope.

Xoxo

When Your Heart Skips a Beat

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When you love so deeply you share your boba

Yesterday was Nathan’s school orientation. He is officially starting Pre-School on Monday. My day was full of anxiety and I could not figure out what it was. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go to orientation. My eyes teared up about everything and I couldn’t keep myself from crying. But why? I had such a perfect day with the kids. We enjoyed our library filled morning, followed by Farmer’s Market shenanigans. And our ultimate favorite- boba drinking with some dancing. We napped snuggled up together and the kids ate dinner without any massive toddler breakdowns. And as the time approached for me to go- it happened. The big question kept atacking me and I answered it a thousand times. Over and over and each time the answer was different. And sometimes I couldn’t get through the answer.

The question is always the same. My answer- it always wavers.

How many children do you have? how many siblings does your child attending the school have? How many other children attend the school? …and then the hard part. What do I say? Do I say the truth? A version of the truth? People will feel bad. People will be uncomfortable.

And this is just the beginning of the questions and turmoil that goes on in my heart. It is not enough that I lost my daughter and that when most families go back to school with every child they have birthed, I am missing one. So instead of going back to school with three, I go back with two. The hole is left open. The waves come a little quicker. The scab begins to peel. img_1053

It’s always such a struggle with my heart, not because I am scared of the possible reactions but because I remember early on how much I always felt like I betrayed her with every answer. No answer was ever good enough. Every answer left me feeling unfulfilled. But after the meeting yesterday, I decided that no answer will ever be the right answer because what happened was wrong. My little family, we try our best every day to experience joy, after all, Eric and I have been blessed with two amazing children. But our lives will never be the same.

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I will proabably have anxiety about backto school nights for the rest of my life. And I can live with that. Grief is not a step to get through. It is something that a parent without their child will always experience. Sometimes it hurts so bad you can feel it in your bones, and other times it presents itself gently; leaving love and smiles behind. So as I walk in this coming Monday, with my first born’s hand nicely intertwined in mine, I will squeeze harder when tears want to flow down and love this moment for what it is because even though I don’t get to walk Emme into her class and have her run after me in fear that I will leave, I am blessed to do it with Nate and Elea.


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When Nothing Seems to go Right

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The week began with  an overwhelming Monday. I wish it would have been a broken cookie causing all the crying but this time it was Elea falling down some stairs. I was horrified and disappointed that (although I saw it happen and ran to try to catch her), I was unable to. I felt horrible. A bad mother. Yup. I even thought I was a bad mother. I don’t think it hurt that bad, but her look said it all: where were you, mama? I pull myself together and go grocery shopping (only because we won’t have anything to eat if I don’t), only to realize my wallet was left at home.

Exhale.

Inhale.

My face must have said it all (it took everything I had to hold back the tears), because the cashier very gently said it happened to everyone. Maybe. Probably. But it didn’t matter. I was falling apart and it was only 10 in the morning.

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The week continued with regular toddler and baby meltdowns, not enough of me to go around, limited showers, late work nights for papa and a very tired mama. I then told Eric, this CEO was coming close to turning in her two week notice. I was nearing my breaking point. I was contemplating stepping down from this gynormous-whopping-biggest BUT most rewarding job in the world. I sat at the table while the babes napped on Wednesday and I cried because I can’t. I can’t leave this job that is so ‘abusive’ because it is my favorite job. It is not a job, it is the only thing I am honestly passionate about; motherhood. I love a lot of things but I am not passionate about any of them as much as I am about my children and husband.

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On Thursday, Nate very calmly told me that he needed more attention from his mama. He wanted to have my undivided attention without it being shared, even it if was just for a little while. So as I walked to the car with yogurt in my hair, a baby crying to be released from her mamas arms, a little toddler sobbing because his sister squirted his yogurt, managed to lose his Walker’s (AT-ST: Star Wars) weapon, I, again, almost lost it. And as I was walking towards our house, a sweet older lady complimented the kids and proceeded to say “Honey, you having a good day?”, I responded, “it could be better” and she said, “oh, but everyday is a great day honey.” I smiled and walked on. Not until later when the kids were in bed and I snuggled with a blanket and a good book, did I realize the heaviness of her words. The truth.

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I know what it is to have bad days. I know what it is to have your world come to an end and struggle to breathe. So even on my worst days, they are the best. But I am also well aware that I am a human being. Hard days, hard weeks, they will happen. Mommy breakdowns are completely normal. Having moments of throwing in the towel are going to happen.  I get to do what I love every day. I get to start my day singing our good morning song and I get to end it singing their favorite songs.

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The week ended with warmth, love and Nate and I looking through Elea and Emme’s photo albums. Our hearts were full.

 

Xoxo

 

P.s.  This Monday was a great start to the week but the day ended with me almost burning down the house. The pan was ruined ( my favorite go-to) and dinner was a bust. But after we aired out the house, we all had a laugh about it. It could have been worst but I’ll take a burned dinner any Monday of the year 🙂

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On the Eve of Mother’s Day 

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As mother day approaches, I sit here on this Friday night in Elea’s nursery, pitch black, ocean sounds blasting, and a little giant baby snuggled on my chest, holding on to my shirt as tightly as can be. I rock us both with my right toes, my left leg folded under my right leg for left hand support, as my hands hold onto a tiny bright screen that sheds just the right amount of light onto my babes face. And my thumbs go crazy, as they so carefully type this post, making sure to touch the right letter.


This has been a crazy week. We wrapped up Elea’s first birthday celebration on Sunday and had family staying with us from Dallas.    I woke up feeling kinda sick so I had to make sure to give myself a break. Wednesday came along and I was starting to feel better, when Elea and Nate slid down the jungle gym slide and Elea tweaks her foot. She refuses to walk or crawl and seems to be in pain. Long story short, her foot is bruised but no broken bones. We are safe. I sat Wednesday night crying my eyes out, angry that I wasn’t able to prevent her from getting hurt. I thought for sure it was broken. My prayer chain worked.

Onto Thursday, my book club meets and we have an amazing meeting with even more amazing women. I go to bed feeling great with a full heart.


Friday morning hits me hard. Elea is up every couple hours. I resign and bring her into bed hopping she’ll nurse when needed and let me sleep. 5:50am comes around and she is wide awake. Play time comes around too soon. BUT her foot seems better so I am grateful.


We get ready for tea time with Nathan, and while he is helping me get the baby ready, in frustration that he can’t help me carry in the diaper box he says *uck.

Yes.

* u c k. The F bomb. The worst. I am completely taken aback, especially because he used it in the correct context. Where? What? How? We never. No one around him ever…a million thoughts cross my mind while I accidentally smear poop on my hand and Elea is giggling up a storm. I quickly snap back in and begin to ask questions. What did he say? Can he repeat what he said? Did he mean to say fudge? Maybe fun? Forge? Anything other than what I thought I heard?! Please. But he is pretty adamant, he assures me, that what he meant was *uck. Ok, so I continue with my questions and the story is more or less the same.

So, naturally, being that I have a marriage and family therapist on retainer (she’s my sister and she accepts my children’s love as payment), I text my sister. After discussing the whole scenario the following hits hard:

“You can’t really control what Nathan will hear, you’ll protect him as much as possible… I’m so glad that you have a great relationship with him where he’ll tell you exactly what happened. That’s what’s worth protecting and making sure it stays strong.”


I can’t and will not be able to protect Nathan from everything, possibly not many things at all BUT I can equip him with the right foundation with our Father at the center, so that he can find comfort in sharing and asking for guidance from a loved one. It takes a village to raise babies, and I can only continue to strive to teach my children about grace, love and faith. I can continue to try and surround him with people who love him and will be there when he reaches out, but mostly people from whom he will see what he should be like.


We finished the week with a yummy Indian dinner ( at Nathan’s request) and very much enjoyed each other’s company. The family sitting next to us even commended us as we left on how well behaved our children were and how well cultured they seemed. What else could we give our children, I thought as we left the restaurant, but experiences and exposure to the world to make them better human beings.

So on this coming Mother’s Day, all I want is to make some more time for long hot showers, more time to sit and take in my rapidly growing babes and to be gentle with myself as I learn to be a better versions of myself (and a better mommy, of course!) as every day passes by.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the hard working mamas out there, especially the ones who get to clean up poop more than once a day ( it’s only fair 😁).

Xoxo