Oh, how it hurts

It hurts to leave you each morning. I say goodbye with a smile and a funny face, trying to make sure you’re calm and content when I walk out the door. You have no idea how much I’d rather stay and not have to leave you with someone who’s just a temporary fix, someone that won’t play a part in your life, someone to who you are nothing more than a job, a means to solve her problems. It hurts to know that time is fleeting and, before I know it, we’ll be celebrating your first year while I regret the time spent away from you, the memories that never had a chance.

Missing you

Dear Stella,

I miss you. I didn’t have a chance to spend much time with you before heading to work this morning because I was running late and you woke up a bit later than usual. I didn’t even get to feed you, Elsa did. Yesterday she told me that you missed me, that she could tell. I hope this is true. I do get the feeling that you’re starting to notice when I leave; you almost cried twice this week as I left and you cannot imagine how happy you made me yesterday when you got all excited to see me return.

I don’t know, I guess I’m having one of those days… I was sad to hear that you did not want my brothers to carry you when they stopped by today. It saddens me that you don’t know them as well as I’d like you to. It hurts to know that my family is not close enough to see you often and be a part of your life. They love you so much. I’m sure that, as you grow, you will get to realize this.

Anyway, I will see you soon, just a couple more hours left of my workday. You are the only thing that can easily make me smile. Indeed you are the light of my life, the one thing I look forward to every single day. I love you.

Seven months

Stella will be seven months this Sunday.  As most mothers will tell you, time is flying and my baby is growing all too quickly. She has changed my life in so many obvious ways but also in ways that I could never fully explain. I guess other mothers can relate and somehow understand.

I remember holding her tight one night (she was perhaps five or six days old), as I whispered in her ear how much I loved her and I couldn’t help shedding a tear. It is then when I realized what it was like to feel that love that you often hear about from other moms and though you think you get it, it’s not even close to what one can imagine. There are things I do because of her that I would never ever do, not even for myself. It’s the most selfless love, a natural inclination and need to protect this human being, to be it’s everything, leaving aside whatever priorities existed before it. It is as if your existence depended on this child. Yes, it should be the other way around and it is, but one’s perspective on life changes with a child, and as overwhelming and frustrating as this can be, it’s something one does not regret.

Going back to Stella’s seventh month, things haven’t changed much in her world. She can sit for a while; roll her way wherever she needs to go; turn over on her own while sleeping (which is a big deal since I feel she sleeps more deeply and comfortably); jump higher on her jumparoo; make a funny face (resembling an old lady); and, continues to babble all day long. I feel that she did not learn as many new things as last month but she is growing rapidly and is healthy, which is all that matters.

I’m yearning to hear mama again and can’t wait to see her crawl but I guess she’ll do so in her own time. For the moment, I’m trying to spend as much time with her when I get home every night, hoping that the love I give her will make up for my absence during the day.

Es hora

Es hora de dejar las excusas a un lado. No puedo seguir pretendiendo que es imposible lograr las cosas que quiero, así como tampoco puedo esperar a que todo se resuelva por sí mismo o conformarme con menos para así justificar mis lamentos y limitaciones. Debo intentarlo, hacer un esfuerzo por salir de este hueco. Es cierto que mi mundo ha cambiado y ya no tengo el tiempo a mi favor pero, no puedo seguir viviendo de este modo, ansiosa por no ser tan siquiera la sombra de la mujer que fui, por no seguir con mi vida, o mejor dicho, por sentir que no tengo ninguna aparte de aquella dedicada a mi hija. Y sé que esto lo he dicho antes pero, siento que debo repetirlo a mí misma hasta obtener la voluntad y fuerzas para lograr un cambio. No puedo dejarme caer porque nadie, nadie estará para levantarme.

Porque el tiempo pasa

Hoy he estado limpiando mi clóset, sacando todo lo que ahora mismo no me sirve y que sé tampoco me servirá, aun cuando rebaje las 20 libras que tengo de más. ¿Para qué engañarme? Mi cuerpo jamás será el mismo, aunque me inscriba en un gimnasio y empiece una dieta no es verdad que podré volver a usar alguna pieza talla extra small; ni siquiera antes del embarazo podía; me había quedado con esa ropa para impulsarme a bajar de peso y volver a ser como antes. Sin embargo ahora, después de unos añitos de más, un lento metabolismo y un embarazo, me he resignado a que nunca tendré el cuerpo de hace cinco o seis años. Y si, sé que todo esto suena superficial, sin significancia alguna pero en cierta forma todo esto representa otra parte de los cambios que me toca vivir, no sólo en lo físico sino también en lo emocional. Despejar el clóset es mi manera de aceptar estos cambios, de despedirme de una parte de mi pasado al cual me he aferrado, de dejar de sentirme atiborrada y comenzar esta etapa de mi vida con nuevos bríos. Y no es que pretenda dejar de ser quien soy (esto es otro tema al que no puedo entrar porque no terminaría nunca) sino aceptar que el tiempo pasa y algunas cosas no pueden prolongarse por siempre; que tarde o temprano hay que dejar de correr, detenerse, tomar un poco de aire y mermar el paso. Quién sabe, tal vez así se aprecie mejor el camino.