Failure I am not.

This is my winter song to you.

The storm is coming soon,

it rolls in from the sea

My voice; a beacon in the night.

My words will be your light,

to carry you to me.

I've been having a series of very difficult days. Old problems back in new guises. I can't outright call these days shitty, for every day's closure brings me something new, and it can never be entirely shitty when I come to the realizations below and when my baby is who she is.

When the voice asks me, or mocks me - who the hell do you think you are?  I have to take a deep breath and go deep within me and find the answers for now.

Who am I?

I am guardian of my home  - I am the one who closes the windows so people sleep warm and tight, I am the one who makes sure there is enough laundry detergent, the one who makes sure Cora has snacked,  taken a bath, who knows when she needs to shampoo or not. I am the one who guards her nights. I am the one who shows up, day after day, I show up. I am here, I am here - constant. I am the one who made choices to be where I am now. I am the one who knows of my abilities, capacities, who knows that money, career and financial success are not measures of what I consider success. I am the one who made this choice, knowing how damn hard it is to live by this in this city, in this year of 2014. 

I am not failure, as a strong relentless inner voice would lead me to believe. The icky sticky claws of depression and anxiety attacks have taken hold, over and over again, this last month, 2 months? 3? I never know when it starts, so gradual its onset is. I've never wanted to admit that this happens, but it does. Being a mother did not change me as a person with my own emotional conflicts that do not regard motherhood. How to deal? How to deal with the insidious cruel voice that insists: FAILURE! FRAUD! You are better off dead, better off not her mother, better off out of everyone's life. What a midnight black creature this is, except that it's hidden in broad daylight - so ingrained in my soul sometimes that I have no idea where it begins and I end. 

Who am I?

I am the guardian of my home, I am the silent and oft invisible guardian of this home. I give my love in gestures, in dishes cleaned, in kisses given, in keys placed in the “correct” place, in trips to the park, to the playground, to grandma’s house…I "share" Cora despite my fears she’ll “leave” me because she'll "see" what a "failure" I am. I show her beauty, fun, enchantment, I insist these exist, despite the moments i'd rather just give up and shrivel away in a blanket. I show her the world I'd like to leave. I show her that I seek help, I tell her not to worry, for there are people helping, for mommy knows where to go and how to feel better. I tell her when I am feeling better, that that moment has passed. I show her who her mom is, and seek for the genuine in me. Which means - I am not a rainbow colored cookie baking mom but I am also not a failure, and the world is not going to fail us, dammit, it is not going to fail us now, because I have a beautiful baby who deserves to be shown the best as well and to revel in what the world offers, in contradictions but moreover, in truth. 

So I breathe deep at night, when everyone is asleep, no matter what kind of day it has been and I repeat to myself and shout to that monster: Hey! I showed up! In the worst of days, through the worst throes of depression, anguish and inner conflict, I showed up. So there, take, that. 

A failure, I. am. not. 

Para não me esquecer - Lest I forget

Da série: Coisas que quero anotar para não esquecer de quando ela era pequena.

1. Quando ela era reçem nascida, tinha períodos do dia que ela chorava muito sem que eu conseguisse acalmá-la com facilidade. Não sabiamos o que era – cólica? Sono? Fome? Tinha dias que eu chorava junto com ela, numa intensa aflição. Durou pouco essa época, mas ficou bem marcado…aí eu colocava ela no sling, ou simplesmente pegava nos braços mesmo e descia com ela…para a frente do prédio ou então no pilotis, onde tinha bastante vento e o som do mundo com pressa, algo tão longe da minha realidade. E inventei a musiquinha assim “vamos lá pra baixo, vamos lá pra baixo, onde tem ventinho e sonzinho de carro” repeat, repeat…E ficava com ela até dormir, ou até acalmar - eu e ela. Às vezes ela voltava a chorar quando eu voltava para o apt…as vezes nao. Mas a musiquinha ficou e me lembra de um período tão tenro de nossas vidas, onde nós duas estávamos cruas e sensíveis, tendo que nos proteger dos estímulos fortes e por vezes agressivos desse mundo.
Antes de ontem me lembrei com nitidez disso quando tive que descer com ela quase 11 da noite e ela não dormia e chorava com qualquer coisa (e eu também!!), catei ela no colo, de pijama e tudo (eu!) E sentei com ela na frente do prédio e balancei, balancei minha menina de um ano e três meses e cantei, "vamos lá pra baixo, vamos lá pra baixo…" e assim, devagar…ela se entregou, talvez se recordando de um tempo longínquo…e dormiu. 

A escolha de dormir no chão com Cora

Pra resumir - Eu durmo num colchão no chão ao lado do colchão da minha filha no chão. Não porque gosto de complicar as coisas, exatamente au contraire. E se eu tivesse a chance de refazer minhas escolhas de como viver com um bebê pequeno, em vez de dois colchões separados seria um colchão grandão, um único, onde dormiríamos os três, se assim meu marido quisesse também. 

Quero escrever sobre isso porque quero compartilhar como foram surgindo essas adaptações que cada vez mais parecem me levar um pouco mais longe do que seria convencional ou "normal", sei lá. Tal como foi na gravidez e no parto, aliás. Só não sabia disso antes dela nascer, que existem nuanças de humanização muito além do parto, em cada aspecto da rotina com um bebê, e imagino também, com uma criança. 

Cheguei ao cenário atual aos poucos - no início éramos eu, Cora e um berço. Ela não teve, aparentemente, muitos problemas com o berço. Dormia bastante lá, quando eu conseguia abrir mão de tê-la por perto e deixá-la no berço. Por volta do primeiro mês ela passou a dormir a NOITE INTEIRA lá, 8 horas seguidas fácil. Parecia que não havia mais nada o que pensar, estávamos feitos. Mas, claro, tudo muda e bebês mudam. 

Tranquila no berço

Ela voltou a acordar com frequência para mamar (ou outra coisa) com 4 meses e foi aí que os ajustes começaram. A princípio eu saia da minha cama, zumbí, claro, e me arrastava até o quarto dela, tirava do berço, sentava na poltrona e ficava com ela no peito até ela cair no sono novamente e eu colocá-la de volta. Ok, tranquilo...o jeito é ter paciência mesmo! Mas eu comecei a revirar minha cabeça por ideias de como melhorar nossa vida noturna. Ela estava começando a sentar sozinha e já estava no horizonte aquele tal dia que ela ficaria em pé sozinha no berço e eu tinha que achar uma solução, porque, infelizmente (mas que foi felizmente!!) o berço estava mal juntado, usado e a cola que o segurava não aguentaria os primeiras saculejares dela. Além do mais, a trava de segurança que abaixa e sobe não abaixava nem subia, estava presa. Então calhou que na época que eu estava no dilema do que fazer com o berço, contemplando comprar já uma caminha de criança e colocar o colchão no chão até ela aprender a subir e descer da cama - mas super na dúvida - eu descobri a existência do "quarto montessoriano". Olhei o blog feliz da vida e com sede, pois sabia ter encontrado minha solução! Além de tudo, tinha todo uma fundamentação teórica bonitinha! Mas isso foi só um detalhe, nada do que fiz foi teórico.  

Cora ao lado da sua caminha, antes do meu colchão aparecer na história...

Então com 6 meses adeus berço! Coloquei o colchão dela no canto do quarto em cima de um tapetinho, rodeiei de almofadas e voilà! Ela acordava a noite e a rotina era a mesma, pegava, sentava na poltrona, mamava, colocava de volta. Até que, devagarinho, foi me encostando no colchão dela, primeira sentada encostada na parede e depois detiada, dando de mamar deitada. A dentição começou a pegar por volta dos 8 meses e me via saindo da cama quase de hora em hora para ficar com uma pequena dolorida e com dificuldade de dormir sozinha. Acabava dormindo sentada contra a parede. Quando enchi o saco, peguei um monte de edredon do armário e fiz um colchão improvisado para mim ao lado do dela. FIquei assim talvez uma semana quando me dei conta que seria muito mais humano se eu simplesmente assumisse a situação e comrpasse um colchão de solteiro para que eu não parecesse tanto um cachorrinho dormindo nos meus panos no chão. Então parei na loja, comprei o colchão mais simples que havia e pronto!!! Agora deito do lado dela todas as noites, nem levanto na hora de mamar, sirvo até de barreira natural para ela não rolar no chão e não é incomum acordar de manhã e ver que ela rolou até meu lado e está completamente aconchegada no meu calor. 

Em outras palavras, o que quero dizer - tudo isso para chegar à conclusão de que cama compartilhada realmente era o que eu precisava e gosto. Parei de contar quantas vezes ela acorda - são várias - mas faz parte, não me estresso nem fico esperando a noite em que magicamente ela irá deixar de precisar de mim. Simplesmente aceitei e fiz as pazes com a mudança (talvez) temporária no meu estilo de vida. 

Valeu a pena. E sei que tudo o resto também passa por esse processo - de ser "desplugado" do que o senso comum diz, as práticas comuns dizem, e escutar a MIM MESMA e minha filha, escutar o que NÓS, familia, precisamos e o que faz sentido para nós. Quanto mais escuto isso mais vou destoando e mais me sinto realizada e em paz enquanto mãe - e pra falar a verdade, enquanto pessoa!

About Fear - The 9 Month Journey So Far

I want to register some things about the first months of Cora, about her little baby months before I forget. I already forget. First of all, I remember the FEAR. I felt so much fear with this tiny little creature in my arms, sooooo fragile, so brand-new, so needy, so baby!! And the responsibility scared my very bones. I was so tense and tired and weepy those first few weeks. My body ached, my belly ached from the surgery, my head was in all sorts of places - some dark ones too, because it was all so LONELY, being a mommy. For all the help one can have, it is lonely, for the changes going on in your soul are so indescribable, so far away from everything you used to know...It's like being bitch slapped into maturity. A very harsh awakening, at least for me it was. My body is softer and squishier, but the edges are worn and sharper. That's how I feel. I look at pictures of myself and have no idea who that person is. I've had so little time to feel like ME that I've lost me somewhere along the way. I think this might be a permanent thing and that whenever the time for this comes around again, I will have to reinvent this idea of me. I don't think the old me will be anywhere in sight. This is so very, very adult and abrupt, it's absolutely frightening. It's frightening to come home from the hospital all cut up, puffed up like a balloon, shocked still from the birth experience, not getting anywhere near enough sleep and expected to deal with it enough to care for the little creature. I remember when the fog started to clear, when things started becoming a bit less heavy, and I could smile and enjoy her presence...I was in her room, in our chair and I started feeling the joy of it and it made me want to laugh out loud, because things had been just plain awful until then and I hadn't had the courage to realize it, because that would just be impossible to deal with. Once it felt better I was able to realize what had happened and breathe a biiiiiig sigh of relief that it was showing hopeful signs of getting better. Amen. 

Now she's a big baby - a moving baby, dancing, singing and playful baby. it's SUCH a different roller-coaster ride now, completely different from my drooling spaced out inch-worming baby. I am grateful for that, because as much as it is still all-me consuming, it does get easier and our love affair does get stronger.

Us at the hospital

Me yellow. Me petrified and very much that little baby I hold in my lap.

Us a month ago. Less scared, but still a bit. And it's ok. 

Updates 8.5 months

Unfortunately journal writing takes too much time and I just find it easier doing it here. There are so many changes, so fast, that I know I'm letting some go by without much notice. One day she doesn't know how to open the kitchen cupboard, the next day she does, and then it's like she always knew how to do it...
Now she claps, "sings" and bounces up and down in a baby dance. She has some sort of memory of where things are int he house, she has a geographical notion of the house as she crawls back and forth, back and forth, aiming for specific rooms and objects.
I don't know what day she began crawling, sometime in May, but I have pictures of it...

And so many other changes...little changes in nuances of her interaction with us, with others..in her sleep..what else? In general, though, the feeling is that we are living the final phases of her babyhood. Soon she'll be a toddler, I can feel it. She's a few steps away from walking, almost balancing on her own two feet. Wow!! I can't believe that we've made it all this way. Everything is so temporary, especially when you have a baby. 

I am still very much a baby

In a good way.
What I mean is:

Here I am, sitting on the floor of a dark room, beside my daughter who has just fallen asleep to the sound of lullabies and the touch of my warm lap...and I lay her down in bed and tuck her in with Bunny, my old Bunny who heard a lot of my tears and kept a lot of my company when I most needed it...
I lay here with him when I feel particularly vulnerable, when I feel like we both need some sheltering form the world.

I worry. I worry I won't be able to shelter her for too much longer, and that breaks my heart. I know that's the deal, I know children aren't ours to shelter forever and so on...but still, it breaks my heart. She's a tiny baby, for christ's sake. I think I should be very well justified in protecting her like a mama LION from annoying family comments and interventions with her. Family scares me more, much more, than any stranger on the street with inconvenient nosing in. At least they are strangers I never have to see again. Family, no. Family I see over and over and over again. Family has power over decisions, over self-image, over ways of doing things.
I hate so many things about how some people treat her, disrespect her. It drives me nuts. Nuts? No, it drives me bloody rabies mad. So when I lay her down with bunny, when I kiss her goodnight over and over again, when I imagine all her owl-angels, I really am seeing me there as well, laying down with her, sheltered down there with her.

She's my best guardian angel.

Talking to Babies and Angels

I wrote this in February of last year, when I was in the wee beginnings of pregnancy - it could almost entirely apply itself yo the present moment. I was talking to the baby in my tummy about my fears and anxieties: 

"I want you to understand how this is not about you, that I love you very much. I want you to understand that I am trying to sort a lot of things out in order to be a better person, a happier person and therefore a happier mom to you. I am dealing with things without the buffering of anxiety meds or even work. My past demons, my present demons, my inner child and her grief, for starters. I am working through my arrogance and my terrible self-esteem. I am working on my life purpose, on what I am here to do and trying to tap into my inner truth, filtering it amidst so many different misleading voices.

I want you to know that I am trying very hard to be a good enough mother for you. I am sorry if the grief reaches you, or the anxiety. I hope you can understand at some level what it’s about and be able to digest it somehow. If not, I pray that God reach down his hand and blow it away like the wind blows away smoke or dandelions. Or that he stroke your newly formed hair for me..."

Amen, amen, amen..

little Cora, I wish all the same things now. 

I've been feeling so scared lately. That fear has returned. Everything is changing so fast, it seems, sometimes I don't know who my baby is anymore. She's just unfolding - SO FAST. My insecurities are mounting, so many unknown factors to deal with. Like her newfound separation anxiety. IOW, she cannot be apart from me, PHYSICALLY apart without breaking down into a real fit. Sometimes someone can distract her enough for the crisis to be averted, but it's difficult. My back hurts a lot from holding her so much. I feel overtouched, over tired, over needed. It's scary, like she's going to be a neverending pit of neediness, but I try to keep in mind it's a phase, she's going through something "scary" for her, understanding and coming to grips with the notion that mommy is a separate person from her, who can move around and who can - gasp! - leave! And the other way around too...she is mobile, she can move around, so she can go astray and get lost. Of course, I'm imagining, trying to imagine what is going on.

I changed her room around, got rid of the crib and made a low bed scenario so she can have more play space in her own room and also the possibility of exploring her surroundings more freely. It hurt my heart to take the crib apart, I did not see that coming. I didn't know the crib represented so much to me, it was weird. It was like I was saying that her baby self is gone now, even thought it's not!! She could've been in the low bed situation since she was born, I'm not doing it because now she's older or more mature...it's only because I found out about this possibility recently. But still, it hurt, and just thinking about it I want to cry again! Go figure. But she adapted well to her new bed and finds it interesting that around her bed is now a whole different universe...her mirror, her toys, the "art" on the walls...mommy in bed with her at times. Oh well. I'll adapt. And then I'll be attached to the low bed, cuz that's how I am, one attachment after another. 

I tried talking to her in her sleep yesterday about my insecurities, to see if it helps with HER insecurities. Who knows, right? Maybe she's catching on to what I'm feeling and that makes her doubly insecure. 

I'm scared sometimes and the pressure mounting on me - scared as in I want desperately to be able to take my anxiety medication - but I don't have it anymore, we are on our own. I'm anxious with Ez's stressful schedule, with my weird in-law family situation that I so not finding a good way to deal...with my ambiguous work situation,  the pain in my body, Cora's intense emotional needs, with her new schedule - especially her eating introduction. I feel it's not going too well, but maybe it's supposed to be a very slow process..how do I know? I don't feel that Ez is my support system when it comes to raising her because I've been making most decisions by myself and that also is scary. That's because I'm the one WITH her all day. 

I'm just bloody tired. I know there is hope, lots of it, actually. I know we'll be fine and get our groove together and that she has so many resources to help her out as well, apart from me. And also that things will continue to change all the time and all is temporary. 

I know God is with us, I know we have our guardian angels, and I talk to them SO MUCH. They are the hand I've been holding on to when I need solace, when I need strength and conforting. When I need to feel mothered as well. 

Amen. Amen. Amen. 

Mamma and her own anxiety issues

Mantra to repeat over and over...

I need to write today more than I need to breathe, and I REALLY need to breathe, so there you have it.
My mind keeps racing on and off and my sight gets fuzzy and I get dizzy and panicky.

When people find out I have a blog, I always say, well, it's not really a blog. Ok, it's public and sometimes I put something out for others to read, but that's not the point of it at all. It's not organized in any way around any theme, I mean, just look and read around and you'll see, completely random and me-logical.

Just like this post.

I wish I knew everything about everything when it comes to making choices for Cora and I. I wish I could be a savvy mom who has read every single finding about vaccination and feels confident about her choices, who understands her choices. Substitute vaccination for just about anything else - television, nutrition, in-laws, etc...
I need to trust, though, I just HAVE TO TRUST... I have to trust HER, that she has her own unique needs and abilities and higher self that will start shining through and making itself clearer - trust in a higher power who is watching out for us, who influence things way out of my control - that the people who made these vaccinations aren't just shitting us around trying to do evil deeds. I have to trust they have good intentions at heart. I mean...I can't read everything about everything and know everything about everything. It's just NOT POSSIBLE. So if I'm making mistakes, I am not the only one responsible. There are pros and cons to ANYTHING, seriously, anything. For example, television. Such a bad rep and combination, babies and television!! But what about the other side, which I never hear about - what about how much it helps me not be so lonely or bored here at home? I mean, there's a limit to how much Facebook or a book or playing with my baby can occupy during a day. Same goes for TV, it's not always what I need, but it helps a lot at crucial moments. So when I start feeling too guilty or anxious or confused - should I have the TV on when I do, in front of her? I remember as well - cut yourself some slack, for pete's sake, your mental health is just as important for HER HEALTH as anything else.

There are no easy answers. Somedays I feel like I'm losing it. Add on to this confusion between family, personal, societal, marital, etc... pressures my sheer exhaustion and the combination is lovely. Scary. Dizzying. And also? I'm making it through! So much stronger and flexible and with all these new abilities and energetic rearrangements. I've got to trust that there will be a time for the dust to settle and for me to be able to look around at this new landscape, when the train wagons will stop shaking and I will be able to see the view along the way. Or something like that...I swear that made sense when I wrote it and thought it.

And there she goes again, crying out in one of her night terror fits. Just breaks my heart and scares me at the same time, because it's taking place in a domain where I can't reach her, where her own anxieties take over.
Over and out.

I am soaking in it...

Today's post is inspired by this talk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLtXUiRgUns

I'm feeling particularly tired and sad today. And frustrated. This parenting thing, it seems like you can never win, can you? After a day of feeling proud of myself and seeing fruits of my hard work and decisions, today I felt it all crumbling around me when self-doubt crept in and made me hate this entire world and all this judgment and this loneliness I'm feeling of not knowing who to talk to and who to trust...And also of making decisions based on what I think, which is often times confusing and not that sure, especially when everyone around me seems to question it.

Frick. For example, for such a STUPID example - to pierce or not to pierce her little ears? How can THIS be creating such an annoying problem within the family?
How and what she eats. How and if she breastfeeds. How and when she cries/tantrums. Whether or not she's wearing cologne. (oh my goood!!) How I dress her. What I offer her to play. In what language I speak to her. What school she doesn't even attend yet.

Everything. so. subject. to. such. scrutiny. it. makes. me. dizzy. I'm used to more privacy, to less intense family meddling and sharing. I. am. tired.

Feel like cutting off all my hair and moving to Japan.

Confissões

Confissões: 

1. Tenho a neura de que estou sendo julgada o tempo todo por todos que passam por mim e a Cora. Do tipo - a roupa dela está quente o suficiente? Ela parece menina o suficiente? Eu estou corcunda? E meu cabelo grisalho, por que não pintei? E meu cabelo desidratado? Por que não tratei/cortei? E as unhas? E a barriga, cadê o Pilates? Não tem babá? Tem babá? Trabalha, mas e sua filha? Não trabalha? Mas e sua vida profissional? etc.etc.etc... Que canseira. 

2. Tenho medo de que só serei boa mãe de bebê e não de criança mais velha...e se eu não souber ser mãe dela quando precisar de coisas mais sofisticadas, tipo comida de verdade, tipo uniforme de escola limpo e ensinar como lidar com alguém que ela não gosta? Eu não sei cuidar disso nem para mim mesma!! 

3. Ó sei que tem mais...mas por enquanto é só.  

Livrinho da Cora - ainda em obras

Falta um final e uma capa...mas tá encaminhadinho!!

O Livro de Cora, a Menina Estrelinha

The Book of Cora, the Little Star Girl

(Era uma vez, uma estrelinha que morava lá no céu, bem, bem lá no alto. De lá, ela via a Terra e brincava com outras estrelinhas. E o nome dela era Corinha. )

Once upon a time, there was a little star who lived in the sky, way up high. From where she was, she could see Earth and she played with the other stars. Her name was Corinha. 

Way down below, mommy and daddy wanted to have a little star girl. So they looked up to the sky and chose the brightest little star...It was Cora! They called her, "Come, Cora! Come be a little girl on Earth!" 

And Cora went! In the warm belly, with love and expectation of the entire family, with the encouragement from her star friends and the protection of her angels, she became a little girl. 

Cora was born on the last day of September, with the first rains of Spring and the yellow of the Ipê trees. The full moon went to peek on her to see if she was ok. And she was - very, very well!

Cora grew up, but never forgot where she came from. At night, while she slept, she would go ujp to the sky to visit her friends...and also to have a lot of fun.