My Caterpillar Has Become a Butterfly

The symbol of the caterpillar and the butterfly has had a special significance for me since I was about 5 months pregnant with Liam and I didn't know then how this analogy or metaphor would present itself every so often. When I was bedrested and utterly bored I started thinking of children's books to write. I'd always loved them and the lessons they taught me. So while looking outside the sliding doors in my room I noticed butterflies that every so often flew in through the screens that were broken in our lanai. The idea was born: to write a children story about a caterpillar who is afraid of becoming a butterfly and spending all of his time in fear hiding, thinking if he hides no one will remember and he can just continue being a caterpillar safe on the ground instead of preparing for the big day, talking to the other caterpillars who are excited and the butterflies who reveal to him the beauty seen from above and greater distances one can travel with a beautiful set of wings. Then when the day happens and of course, he sees how silly he was, even if it takes him a little longer to make proper use of his wings.

Then when I was hospitalized one late Friday night, the only thing that made me feel safe was that my room had a large framed picture of a bright, orange and black butterfly. I took it to be a sign that everything would be okay. Afterall, I had been in bed now for months afraid of my next step, like the caterpillar, afraid that something would go wrong with an early birth of the baby. Afraid of the next step, wishing to hold on for dear life like the caterpillar did so onto his leaves. Then the birth happened and everything turned out to be better than we expected.

Three years later, I am still reminded of it through different stages of Liam's growth - particularly every time there is something that may be challenging for him to accomplish to when he masters the task. I dreaded him attending his new school with a new teacher, albeit I knew she'd be wonderful, new kids, new routine, etc. And after three weeks of hard work, consistent disciplining him, taking him five mornings per week and a strict routine at home where we had to deal with a heavy backlash from him over this huge change in his life, my little caterpillar has become a beautiful butterfly. He has finally spread his wings and taken flight, no longer being held back by fear of change, other children, or a different routine. I couldn't be more proud of this monumental achievement of his and I do not take it for granted any morning when he tells me he's ready to go to school, when I drop him off with him not bothered by my leaving, when I pick him up and see the joy in him showing me his artwork and on the ride home when he tells me how he had fun.

I thought it would take him so much longer but with the amazing structure, patience, and love of his teacher he has just blossomed so beautifully so quickly. I am ever so thankful to her, the tight ship she runs, the many hugs and kisses she gives him on a daily basis and all of the wonderful things she shows him. His tantrums have disappeared (I know this won't last forever), his moody behavior and whining are gone and with our consistent follow through on everything he is a different child than he was a month ago. I am the happy and proud mother I've always wanted to be. I love my baby.

Interrupted by Windy Gusts

As I sat reading the first few pages of my new book, "Breakable You" by Brian Morton, I was interrupted by a fiercely, gusting winds draping the white pages with the shadows of the dark, gray clouds that collided much too quickly, erasing the sun from the sky. The shushing of the wind amongst the differently sized and shaped trees told one to seek protection. I watched as a tiny, bright gold leaf swarmed around the tree from which it'd fallen with such vigor that it was unable to land.

The water from the lake that had, all afternoon, sat perfectly still and translucent now seemed to be spread at the top in all directions by the unforgiving wind, creating the dull gray color of an endless winter. It was as though a boulder had been thrown into the center of a large mirror and the million little shards had flown in every direction. The rain drops started falling steadily into a downpour, breaking the opaqueness of lake with little bubbles, allowing me to restore my breath.

Now as the wind has stilled once again and the rain falls evenly all our us, I am compelled to resume my reading, unable to do so, lured by the renewal from above.

Timer

Last night when I set the timer for 15 minutes for his night show he waited until I walked away. After looking at the clock on the TV I realized that it had been 17 minutes I went to see the timer. He had hidden it and he told me, "No mommy. No timer. Mommy no get the timer back." Jay and I found it in another room and he had stopped it with 3:52 minutes left. That is how smart he is just at 3 years old. Ugh.....

Separation Anxiety

Today I am so frustrated by Liam's separation anxiety from me. I don't know if and when this will lessen for him and I continuously ask myself if this is part of his sensitivity or if it's something I did - not seeking to guilt myself, only to try to fix the situation. He does well after I've left and he's gotten in the groove with his teacher and his activities but dropping him off is like peeling a leech off me, and then I am left to feel the sliminess for the rest of the morning thinking that he is hurting and missing his mean mommy who dared to leave him in a horrible school where he is so loved and nurtured.

Since the two weeks he's been at this school he's done fantastically and I love his teacher. She is so loving and nurturing I know I've chosen correctly. However, I keep wondering if this would be less traumatic for him if I waited another year. My intuition and motherly instincts from three years with my little miracle child I know he would be worse if I waited. But it breaks my heart for him to see his fear of the children, the social anxiety, the extreme separation from me he feels so deeply. I keep reading books to make sure that I am doing the right thing, to find something I've missed that I can try for him to cope better. And while I learn new things all the time, they don't seem to be getting easier.

Now he has started retaliating against me for leaving him. I am bad mommy and daddy is good daddy, fun daddy. He has started to ask for him all the time when he's upset with me. And every time that daddy isn't home and it's just Liam and me he is angry and pushing my buttons. I have started disciplining him harsher by really being consistent with timeouts, not allowing him to boss me around, not accepting rudeness and demanding nice manners, even locking myself in my room for a couple of minutes when he's out of control.

Last night when I set the timer for 15 minutes for his night show he waited until I walked away. After looking at the clock on the TV I realized that it had been 17 minutes I went to see the timer. He had hidden it and he told me, "No mommy. No timer. Mommy no get the timer back." Jay and I found it in another room and he had stopped it with 3:52 minutes left. That is how smart he is just at 3 years old. Ugh.....

The Golden Nugget

What would happen if we all visualized every human being upon contact as a golden nugget at their body's core instead of looking at them judgmentally on the outside? Let me explain.

My Buddhist teacher, Kelsang Dornyi, provided instruction this week on how to transcend through the outer shell of each person and innately see them as a wonderful potential for love and greatness. The simplest example he gave was in the form of an annalogy of a golden nugget. He said, more or less, If I take a shinny, beautiful golden nugget and bury it with dirt, soil, or anything, it still remains a golden nugget. It doesn't change. It's just covered by dirt, soil or anything else.

This thought has stayed with me mindfully all week. What a beautiful illustration of love. He then further elaborated on this topic by discussing that we are all like this golden nugget. Every single human being. We are all wonderful potential and love at the center of our being. And as humans we all have and suffer from delusions that cloud that potential, but we remain that potential none-the-less. We have delusions of anger, fear, low self-esteem, loneliness, greed, jealousy. But all these poisons or delusions are just that, delusions, they are not who WE are. They are the same as that dirt or soil, they may cover our potential or our wonderful nature but underneath, we are still love.

So when we go around saying that person is crazy, mean, an SOB, because they have hurt someone or committed a nonvirtuous deed, it just means that they are suffering from a delusion that is causing them to act that way, their person does not embody that trait and claim it completely.

What a wonderful thought to keep at the forefront of one's heart and mind every single day. As we drive our car, spend time with loved ones, spend hours with co-workers, etc. He further challenged us to start practicing this, starting with those closest to us. Instead of judging someone close to us who is suffering from a delusion and claiming that the delusion encapsulates the being, simply look at the person as loving potential and separate the delusion from which they are following and call forth, or instantly develop bodhichitta, or immediate compassion for the person who is suffering.

I have kept this close to me all week, very mindfully and it really has helped make me happier, calmer, and more loving towards those around me. It is through these meditations and mindful practices that I am learning to be more accepting of those I meet or more patient with those around me. By not labeling them, cut through those delusions with a sharp knife and separate those far off to the side and only see that shiny, golden nugget at the core of each person's heart, blinding me with love for them. How wonderful is that. I think this is a practice that everyone should try, regardless of religion or spiritual belief or practice.

My Pregnancy with Liam (in Hospital) - Part 2.

At the hospital, 10 p.m. on a Friday night, they put the baby and me on monitors, which displayed I was having up to 13 contractions an hour. They gave me a shot of turbutaline and then another. The contractions slowed enough for me to be wheeled into a room overnight, which turned into a weekend and then into 10 weeks. Yes, 10 weeks in the same 8 x 10 foot room laying in the same bed without leaving except for 3 times - 2 times Jay wheeled me around the corridor and once we went to visit the NICU, knowing that probably our baby would end up there for a little if he chose to come out early.

Jay was wonderful and brought comfort items from home to redecorate my room - my bedside lamp, which provided a warm golden glow in the room (no more florescent lights), cherished photos of us and our travels, books, magazines, our Powerbook with movies for us to watch together at night, etc. He came to stay with me every evening right after work until bedtime except on the nights he had school. I don't know how he managed because I never saw him study, but then again, he is a brainiac, one of the many reasons why I married him.

Graciously, my mom was with me every day, sitting next to my bedside knitting, talking until I needed to her to be silent so I could rest. She said it was her turn now, since she'd been in the hospital with me (for completely different reasons), and her mother had waited patiently by her side, now the cycle of giving strength and love to the next generation was complete. She put up with my bad moods and all of the ways the drugs were affecting me. They gave me turbutaline and Procardia every four hours to stop the contractions, and also monitored the baby's movement and heartbeat then for 20 minutes. And God forbid if he wasn't up doing somersaults, they would make me drink something sweet to wake him up, when then made him kick me into contractions. It was an endless cycle. My mood fluctuated between wanting to run out of there saying, "No more, please" and wanting to be left alone. So half the time I put a "Do not disturb" sign on the door and turned people away to the Nurses Station who asked them kindly to leave. I turned completely internal for the ten weeks, thinking more than necessary, disecting every thought, physical feeling, hope, and fear for what the future would bring to us and our baby, if he survived. I held on to hope immediately by the fact that in my room, the framed picture on the wall was that of a bright butterfly. And as silly as that would seem, while I'd been bedrested at home I had started writing a children's story about a worm and his fear of the unknown in the process of becoming a butterfly. So Hispanic as I am, I took this as a sign.

So I got in the groove of the daily routines the nurses and sonographers performed - the pills, the belly monitors, the vaginal and belly ultrasounds every other day, the measuring of my amniotic fluid, the draining with medication of it so it was me and baby, so as to relieve cervical pressure. Which only made me feel each and every one of the baby's movements far more and see them too. I got to actually see his feet while they kicked me like the ones of the pictures they have on the internet. So I kept going further inside myself. Jay was worried that I no longer wanted any visitors but him and my mom, but I was practicing my Buddhism more now than I'd ever had to. I was learning about myself, my limitations, physical and mental. I was learning for the first time in my life learning to really learn about myself, discover my potential, seeing my flaws and and digging deeper to change them into the woman I wanted to be for the mother that I was about to become. While most people would think this position, this hospital stay as dreadful, I was actually living it up. Who gets the chance to experience pregnancy in this beautiful preparatory way. And yes, there is no way to prepare to be a mother for the first time, because while you may know some things it may take, you never actually know, it was beautiful to feel it so thoroughly without anything else competing for its attention. This was my job at the time, 100% of the time and nothing else. So I truly learned for the first time how to be mindful and practice mindfulness, doing only what was required the 24 hours in the day, and nothing else. There were no distractions, there was no one else to do something for, just for my baby. The selflessless brought me so much internal peace that having to be in bed every minute of every day for 10 weeks became second nature.

This mindfulness served greatly to help me see parenting in a different way, that it wasn't about me, and that children live in the moment, there is no later or yesterday, there is the here and now. It taught me to practice the selflessness required to be a stay at home mom as I had chosen to be. Because the schedule after the baby would come would be set and followed and life would no longer be just about me. We would be adapting together to a new way of life, one where I had no other boss to give me a review and a passing or failing grade. This was more important. I was about to shape the life of another person who was a blank slate. And the colors I painted would make a vast difference onto his genes and how he would embrace the world.....but more on that later.

When I needed time to get out of myself I just did two very simple things: Sudoku puzzles and colored in a coloring book. The third thing that was not as easy was taking up origamy. I did several pieces that I'd intended to use for Liam's crib mobile. This was enough. For the first time I'd left behind the obsessive reading about everything fiction and non fiction and the constant researching about what could be the outcome of having a preemie. I had already learned about the possibilities of blindness, deafness, cerebral palsy, etc. So I just chose to do my physical part and relinquish the delusion of control that I've always clutched to my heart - ever so erroneously.

One of my daily pleasures came at 5 p.m., my mid-day shower. While other people did this - I was told- early in the morning, I thought "Why, I've got nowhere to go." So it was my delay gratification, which aside from spending time with Jay, were my guilty pleasures. So every day, as my day nurse changed my bed before she left for the day, I sat in my shower, in that hospital chair they leave for all of us afflicted physically. And since I still had to be careful because sitting perfectly erect still put pressure onto my cervix, I had to hurry. The one thing I had to figure out was how to shave my legs - yes, there is something worse than having to shave, it's not being able to do it regularly so having to find a way of doing it, sitting on a chair, while not hurting the baby. And yes, while the baby was the most important thing in my world, I am a very hairy woman who was seen every day by tons of medical people, yes, in private areas so I had to stay as hygienic as possible, even under the circumstances. So I learned to use the bathroom garbage can, upside down and place that in front of the chair so I could prop my legs for the time it took me to shave quickly and enjoy the rest of my 15 minutes in the shower. Only to go back to bed and lie down almost with upper body lower than my lower body to release the pressure.

Because the hospital stay is long and I don't want to forget any part of it, I will have to continue this onto My Pregnancy with Liam (in Hospital) - Part 3.

Liam's 1st Day at Preschool

I am thrilled beyond my wild optimisms that Liam's first day in preschool at Bright Beginnings went "fantastic" as his teacher, Ms. Wanda said. After a lot of research for the perfect place and teacher for Liam, to foster his independence and help come around with his shyness, I was certain this was the place. Close to home and yes, at a much higher cost financially, I can say it is well worth it - so far.

Indeed, we did prepare. With Liam, one thing we've learned from the past three years, is that we must always prepare him and only then can we succeed. Him and I went to visit the school several times, and the bunny Butterscotch that lives there, we hung out in the classroom with Ms. Wanda, in the playground and we talked a lot at home for the month and a half that he was out of school. And it worked.

His first day he shed some tears but he was great. He helped with snack time, as there are many chores to do there like help be line leader, line holder, watering the tree they planted together, etc. He told her that he was coming back tomorrow and he told me that he had fun when he got in the car. All the car ride home he told me what he did there and what he played with. It was so cute. I think this is the best place for Liam. When we were leaving there he ran up to her and embraced her in a way that he does for me, like a leach and she spun him around and tickled and kissed him all over and he loved it. His response to her tells me a lot.

I have finally learned to prepare and then "do" whatever the task is with Liam, and then throw a prayer to my Buddhas and the universe, then let go. What will be will be. And thus, it is. And I am thankful.

The 4th of July with Family

My Facebook post today said, "When my sister leaves my heart aches." It had been six months since I'd seen my sister, not for voluntary reasons but for financial ones and of course, circumstance. And one weekend is not enough after six months. Yes, we talk on the phone about 3 times a day, every day. We are our own honest truthful sister to sister, mother to mother, know all your shit and love you support group to each other. I love her more than I could ever express and while most people are used to living away from family and visiting over holidays, I will never get used to it.

I rely on her for support every time my son does something that sends me over the edge or so weird that I only want to share it with someone who won't judge me in a way that I mind. I rely on her when I think I will lose my mind because hearing her two 19 month apart sons gives me perspective. When something wonderful happens or when I'm having a good time, innately like ducklings follow their mother I wish she was sitting next to me. When my anxiety sends me into spin mode I call her because she knows how to calm me down. And every afternoon, around 2 when the boys are napping, I know my phone will ring and we will have a cup of tea or coffee while briefing each other before one of us says we are going to lie down for a few minutes before the craziness we signed up for resumes. That is how close we are.

This feeling is akin to the one when I was 7 years old and old enough to understand why my father had moved from Argentina to the U.S (since those of us who live in third world countries are forced to grow up a little quicker and understand financial difficulty at a deeper level far earlier in life) but still cried all the time. One afternoon while my mother was up hanging laundry at the roof of the condos we lived in Argentina I threw myself on my parents' bed and hysterically cried for a long time until I fell asleep, cursing the "opportunities" in the U.S. that had lured my father on our behalf and the "lack of opportunities and the inflation" that plagued Argentina that had made my father run for cover. It was the first time that I cursed, really cursed and so I remember it vividly. Then I remember my mother coming in to wake me up. But that feeling.....that feeling will always stay with me. I grew up that day a lot more than any little girl should have to grow up in one day. And now, I miss my sister the same way. And while I as an adult, with responsibilities, a family, and a child of my own, instead of cursing aloud, my soul caves a little for the stabbing my heart feels at its core.

I curse the American ways for the opportunities (yes, I do understand that we are in a depression) that make us travel around the country chasing our next big dream job with all the lucrative hopes and aspirations, but I wish I had no knowledge of the provincial way of life. My family who still remains in Argentina does not move from place to place. They die where they are born, sometimes in the same house, and while they don't have the luxury of knowing or not being tempted by money, opportunities that can be just over in the next province or state, they get to be with their family. Albeit, I know this may be too much love and closeness sometimes, but I still miss that now.

I think I have come full circle now. My mother moved here when she was 34, she got on the plane for the first time and left her whole family behind to follow her husband, my father. I am now 34 and I have no trouble imagining doing that now because I love my husband and soulmate, and my son. But yes it would hurt. And then I remember about 10 years ago something my grandfather who was visiting said to me. He said, "Sometimes when there are too many plants planted together in one great big pot and they are all trying to grow and compete for the light and heat of the sun, the refreshing of water, it's better to take some out and replant them into another smaller pot. If you time it just right, when they are young and have not grown too wild or have too many weeds around them, they have a chance to most likely grow closer together, not fighting for the sun and the rain. Supporting one another if the other one tends to lean one way or another. Then they will drop seedlings around themselves and their base will be healthier to support the young plants as they grow under them and they will stand strong when they start leaning. And then when you look at the big pot with all those plantings, you will see all the weeds that have cramped them and you'll have wished they were all replanted at the right time." With this he slanted his head downwards and raised his right brow, as if asking me if I understood. And I immediatly saw my family and knew.

We had been very fortunate to have been transplanted young. But while I love the pot I replanted myself in and my sister does the same, I wish that our pots were planted closer together so our seedlings could grow together and we could enjoy the same sun and rain. I love you Sole.