The arrival in the village?of Gabriel’s birth was a pleasant experience. Except for the pain. Weird, isn’t it? I really don’t like pain!
He was born at hom with the help of the world’s best midwife, who had helped my mom with the birth of one of my little sisters as well. I loved it. Apart from, I repeat, the pain.
My second baby was just as cute as my first. But the honeymoon feeling was missing. With a very busy husband and a very active little toddler, there wasn’t very much time. And so it happened that soon, Mike left behind a crying wife at the door every day when he left for work. I kid you not. Every day.
And it was more weeping then crying. It was a very pretty picture, actually. One of those melancholy ones.?A glass door with greasy fingerprints. Most often, there was a gray, drizzly sky, because it was winter. A man in a thick black coat who gave everyone a ‘hug and kiss’ in the cold verandah. A mama who, if it was a good day, had already had a chance to brush her hair, wearing a sad face. The door […]
Now that we would have a second baby, I was going to deeper, or different, into this land of motherhood. I was not looking forward to being on the road for 9 months again, but hoped for the best. And although there was no all-day-morning-sickness, it was still not all that good. So here I was again, depressed for 9 months. This time I could not survive on movies and naps because Abel was not a big fan of those, or that life style. Not all was sad though. This trip had it’s exciting and jolly moments as well. I loved going for walks and giving hugs and kisses. I loved seeing him learn new things and start laughing with jokes. I was just finding it hard to find myself. I had expected to love being a mom. To find myself once I arrived in this place. To find the best possible version of myself. I expected it to be the fullfilment of all of my dreams and I thought I was very ready for this. Fully trained and fully prepaired. Instead, I couldn’t seem to find myself at all. I had left myself behind, at home. This person, […]
You put a PINK bib on me? Fine. I’ll eat your princess book.
Those first months continued being what I had expected it to be. My baby was delightful. A model baby. He ate well and slept when he should. He slept through most of the night by 5 weeks, and when he was 3 months old he slept through the entire night and more. I, naturally, attributed this to my excellent parenting.
I bathed him and changed him to my heart’s content, put him in cloth diapers, potty trained him, wore him in a baby wrap and watched him smile his loveliest smile.
His only problem was not pooping regularly…as in sometimes not for 10 days. But fine. Minor bump.
This was awesome! So awesome, in fact, that when he was 5 months old we figured we should have us another one of those babies. And so by the time hew as 6 months there were, once more, 2 pink lines. Around this time, Abel changed from smiling-sleeping-lying down baby into a fervent crawler. ?He had no interrest whatsoever in sitting down. He didn’t think it was any sort of good idea to sit beside me […]
Today?I’m taking a break from story telling and sharing some family pictures. Because taking family pictures is a landmark in any mother’s life. Whether it is a good or bad landmark I leave open to interpretation.
First we make sure we have somewhat matching clothes. I figured if we all wear something white with blue and stripes, that should work. Wisely, I did not ask my fashion-smart sister in law, because I’m usually wrong in my thinkings.?And I figured it was better to be happy in ignorance then to be unhappy in knowledge.
I totally handwashed Mike’s shirt for this, because the blue in his other blue shirt clashed with the blue in the other blue shirts. I do know that much, you know.
Even though I believe purple is the same as violet and lavender.
We did 3 attempts at the pictures, with breaks and bribing in between. Because we’re smart like that.
Observe…everyone seated. This was an accomplishment in itself. Talk the children into smiling nicely. Not yet using threats.
It didn’t work. Starting to think about using threats.
We move to a different location, hoping for succes.
The one where some of […]
The birth might have gone less glamorously then planned, and I was less cool then I would have liked. My pride was considerably affected, but once I had that baby in my arms I felt overqualified for my stay in the land of motherhood.
Due to my intensive and extensive preparations, I would excel in this.
I disdainfully tolerated the nurse who showed me how to bathe my baby. Imagine! Me, not know how to bathe my own baby?! The nerve of her!
Any other advice I waved away or boredly pretended to listen to.
An offer of Nivea Shampoo I breezily smiled away. I had brought my own stash of Zwitsal, thank-you-very-much! Because of the obvious superiority of that brand, naturally. It was the smell of my childhood!
It was the proper smell of any and all babies.
On the day we were allowed to go home, I was ecstatic. I packed up my baby and rushed out of the hospital, grinning at all we passed. In true opposite style of my sister, who was slightly shocked that these hospital people allowed her to take this baby home without even knowing if she was capable of taking […]
I dreamed of this trip for a long time. I prepared myself thoroughly by reading novels. Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, Little Women. I prepared by giving my siblings baths but I neve rreally practised my patience with them. I worte down lists of baby names. All of these were the coins in my piggy bank to purchase my ticket to that perfect, lovely land. Motherhood.
I planned it all well in advance, I would get married at 18 and have my first set of twins at 19. These would be girls, naturally.
This seemed an eternity away while planning it at 13. I wrote down my preferred names for my first set of twins anyway. June Lilly and Autumn Rose.
But by and by, the time to get married came. It still appeared to be a little early, however. My patience had not appeared yet, strangely enough. I wasn’t reallly a grownup yet, either, and to take this trip, one must be and feeel like a grownup. So I figured. 18 might still be a little young.
At the end of 19, it came closer, and just after 20 it seemed within reach when […]
I’ve followed more then one blogger who went on a compassion trip.
I love hearing stories and seeing pictures of their trips. Not all of us get to go, it wouldn’t even make sense if we all die go.
But by their stories we get to see what it’s like there.
Our hearts are moved by hard situations, we are inspired by courageous people, often tougher then us, who make the best of their lives in hard times. People bringing glory to God when I imagine I’d sit down and whine. Children laughing in the face of poverty and pain and having a childhood anyway, and us getting to make it safer and better and helping them have a future as well as a childhood.
Through the Compassion Blogger stories, we are inspired and encouraged to share, just as we encourage our children to share.
Because if God gave us more then others, put us in a place where people have more then people in other places, then the sole reason of His doing so is for us to share it with those other people. Maybe because God knows that community flows out of sharing? Maybe because He knows that […]
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