In this journey into the Land of Motherhood, there have been 3 highlights. And the names of those highlights are:
Abel Michael Glenn Brignola, 27 June 2011
I knew there was risk of being sick on the way, but I assumed I was above all of that. That was for my mom and my sister, but it wouldn’t happen to me.
And so, of course, it did happen to me. I got all the joys of morning-noon-and-night sickness, during which every day was about finding that one thing to eat that might ease the nausea. It’s a tricky thing, pregnancy sickness. One day, milk helps you feel better, the next day it won’t stay down for 3 seconds.
It’s a mean thing, I tell you.
But I conquered it.
At least, that’s how I like to think about it.
But I survived it, somehow, and at the end of it, there was Abel. And was he worth it? Yes, yes he was. But did I forget the pain and the sickness, like some people told me I would? No. No I did not.
Did I get over it?
I’m still working on it.
Gabri?l Michael Glenn Brignola, 6 November […]
God always does good, and right. He did this in my life, too. He might not have parted the Red?Sea for me literally, figuratively He did. He showed me how the village of Struggle was really a nice place. I’d just been naming it wrong. He told me it’s a good place to stay. I’m going to try to see it that way too.
God made everything that ?year work out for good. Every detail He’s used to grow me, to give me strong roots.
Weaving past and present together, He showed me His heart, His attitude, always leading by example so that I can follow.
It’s been slow, it’s going slow, but I take courage from the fact that I don’t cry anymore when Mike leaves for work. I haven’t in a really long time actually.
Everyone has their own story. Their own background. With every story comes struggles. It’s part of being human. Everyone has issues, everyone has uncertainties and things they need to work on. Everyone needs to find out what they think of life, what they will choose to believe, what to live for. The way you were raised influences your thoughts. And so do the […]
All in all, life seemed to be to much and too unhappy all the time. We had moved to the middle of nowhere.
I wished I did not have fibromyalgia because I was pretty sure that if I was healthy and not constantly in pain and exhausted, it would be easier to behave. Everything?would be magically easy and all at once I would?always be happy. Maybe after trying this diet or that supplement or seeing that doctor, I would feel fine all at once, and from then on I would ?behave…
And so we stayed mostly unhappy.
Like we were an Eeyore family with our own little raincloud hanging over us. And the saying goes ‘If mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy’ so I knew it was on me, ?I had to make some big changes.
I hesistantly asked God to do whatever He needed to do to change my heart. I wasn’t wildly enthusiastic since I knew operations tend to be painful.
I had tried to find the good stuff in life on my own. I tried to pretend I was happy. Sometimes it worked. Mostly it didn’t.
Then God started the operation, because although He’d helped […]
Life in the Village of Struggle wasn’t always bad. We had our good moments. It was just that the moments were too far apart?andwere sprinkled through with too many struggles.
Good times were family walks and candlelit dinners.
Waiting for papa by the window, little hands lovingly making more greasy fingerprints on it, faces lighting up when papa’s bike came into view. And then we’d all rush outside, one boy on the saddle and one boy on the carrier, they’d ride into the shed. Afterwards there would be supper, maybe bathtime, and bedtime would be snuggly and warm and bedtime songs were sung.
Good times where taking walks in the rain with two excited little bouncing balls holding their own umbrellas, jumping in the puddles.?It was friends coming over all the way from Tennessee and Australia and staying for a good long time, having do-you-remember marathons.
Taking walks together with friends and sisters, which is actually the same thing, and our bunch of little people running and climbing around.
Finding a forgotten little orchard with apples and wild strawberries and flowers for vases.
It was Christmas in my parents house and their Christmas tree, because theirs?is the king of […]
And so in my head, I renamed Village Gabri?l into Village Struggle, because that’s what it was on most days.
Life was a struggle, wanting all things. I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted to fly back and not have to be someone’s source of food. Why me? Why does Mike get to walk out the door and I’m stuck here with two living little things who don’t care whether I slept or not and whether I had plans or not?
Mike walking out the door was, to me, the equivalent to a movie star walking on the red carpet. Glamour, fun, happiness. (Because sitting behind a desk all day long, working on a computer, with potentially frustrating co-workers and deadlines and work overloads, is everyone’s dream occupation. Obviously. My life was equal to…a great big desert. With no trees. Only rain. I know, a desert with rain is probably not a desert. But I’m not known to be very rational when I’m feeling depressed.
These two little humans? Relentlessly claiming my energy and my time and attention.
I wanted to do so much and I had so many ideas! Or actually …skip the ideas. If […]
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, […]
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