the cut has healed, but not the woman

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it all started in the bath.

it was the usual mommy and daughter ritual, (if and when we encounter a bathtub). “bathtub” you ask? yes, a good ‘ol fashioned tub. you know…a basin in the bathroom which holds water for bathing purposes? i’m not trying to insult your intelligence. although, i do sound pretty loony. like i’ve been living under a rock–kinda loony. well i sort of have in some respects. living in a teeny, tiny studio with a teeny tiny, stand-up shower can be….claustrophobic. we’ll just leave it at that. my experiences in our previous home will be left for another time. so as i was saying–bathtubs…be they at the grandparent’s or at a hotel, automatically light up our eyes. like woah! we’re so very grateful to have a fantastic one in our new florida rental. [chime in hallelujah song].

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if i shower or bathe, it’s impossible without hubby watching izabella or us girls getting lathered up together. in this instance, we exercised our good hygiene skills with the latter. izzie loves baths these days like a fish loves water. there we were, splashing, washing, blowing bubbles, giggling and best of all, bonding. then she points down below the water, underneath my belly button and above my ‘lady bits’. her little index finger pokes my skin. she scrunches her eyebrows with concern. her lips quivering. “dat..dat”, she says and continues with an “aww”. then she inches up closer to me. her hands now open, caress my scar. “boo-boo?”, she asks with sympathy. just like that, my inquisitive toddler discovered the evidence of my c-section. my heart felt heavy at the moment. anxiety and depression creeped into that garden tub of ours. the water once warm, became a little colder. i looked into those hazel eyes and told her that it was in fact a wound. this sweet child of mine, stood up and wrapped her arms around my neck. She sat back down and inspected it once again. “ouch mama!”, she exclaimed in the most genuine matter.

how do you explain to a nineteen month old it wasn’t so much physical, as emotional pain i endured? you don’t.

you just ensure her that you once got hurt, but you’re all better now. that’s along the lines of how i responded (minus the high-pitched-cutsey baby talk). honestly the whole “mommy is okay” was also about consoling myself. am i really, truly “okay”?

the answer to that is a big fat no.

having a cesarean section was the furthest thing away from my birthing plan. in fact, an epidural wasn’t even on there either. i’m not the epitome of strength, but i wanted to give this natural, spiritual, primal and empowering birth a shot. i was wholeheartedly committed. i was moved by ricki lake’s documentary ‘the business of being born’. then hypnobirthing caught my attention in a couple of youtube videos. i was intrigued so much so, i stuck my nose inside this book. i prepared as best i could with an eight week class. i had a midwife and a husband who supported my decision for a water birth.

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since the fifth month of pregnancy, i knew about my partial placenta previa. the news for me was one part concerned, one half denial, a quarter hopeful, and another frustrated. all in all, i tried my best to shove the entire “high risk” label to the very back of my brain. even so, the occasional panic would interrupt my zen. sometimes i’d get distracted during the relaxation exercises in our practitioner’s home basement. the only good thing about my situation was the frequent ultrasounds. i had so many opportunities to see baby growing and moving. it was also a reminder of just how stubborn my placenta was. specialists were measuring its position and the distance away from my cervix. sometimes i’d daydream of reaching in and manually moving it. (i know TMI! not the most pleasant visual)

what can i say? i was desperate and pretty obsessed with babies, birthing and breastfeeding in the most cliche/ idyllic matter. i wanted to be a mother since i could probably say the word ‘mother’.

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as i grew, so did my curiosity and desires to fulfill this rite of passage. ever since the sixth grade (not even exaggerating), i’d religiously watch episodes of tlc’s ‘a baby story’ with amazement and a tissue in hand. i was all like–“how do they do that?” or “how can i do that?” and “how will i endure this? there were a lot of “wows and awws” and “that’s what i want!” followed by “how beautiful“. it was the most intense and incredible thing i’d ever watched. not just on a television, but in person. i witnessed my sister’s all-natural birth. from the first surge (that’s hypnobirthing lingo for ‘ya! it’s an alternative word for contraction) to the final push. when the midwife placed my bare-naked, crying nephew on his mother’s exposed chest, i literally burst into tears. i mean ridiculously, hysterically bawling.

it was a miracle and it was breathtaking. i always hoped to experience it myself.

six, seven, eight and nine months went by. no progress whatsoever. “mrs. molczan, we’re scheduling you for a cesarean section in two weeks”. everything and everyone seemed to fade into the background. i felt as if i was in the charlie brown cartoon. gradually the protocol and procedures explained were sounding like gibberish.”so and so from here and there will be something something. blah, blah and blah. ummmm um um. errrrrr. something something and blah. blah blah. wha wah wha. okay–any questions?

my dreams officially escaped my grasp at the thirty-seventh mark. for the next fourteen days, i was anxious yet excited to meet our daughter. i was thankful for doctors and modern technology and their ability to detect life-threatening conditions. yet, defeat came along for a looooong ride. all my research, planning and efforts were pointless. my fears of major surgery would soon be a reality.

[my birthing/ delivery story would be appropriate here. i’ll also reserve that for yet another post.]

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this scar should be my badge of honor, but i’m not quite ready to wear it with pride. it has nothing to do with vanity, but of what it negatively represents. this incision is one which reminds me of the struggles izzie and i endured. everything from my birthing disappointment, my breastfeeding woes, her serve colic/ reflux troubles and my postpartum depression.

but this scar is also…

where my beautiful, healthy and happy little girl came out of. if i concentrate on that, maybe i can completely let go of my resentment. my c-section and the effects of the surgery were difficult to accept. it still is. even nineteen months after the fact.

it’s just going to take more time i suppose.

raquel

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mommy confession #1

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true story

me: “can you pass me the blankie, honey?”

hubby: “what did you say?”

me: “the blankie, please”

hubby: [laughing at me while handing me the sofa blanket]

me: “thanks” [as i roll my eyes]

a minute later, it finally fazed me. no joke!

***

so here how it works:

i add an ‘ie’ (sometimes an ‘ies’) to the end of certain words.

pacie = pacifier

milkie = milk

sleepies = sleepy

cupie = cup

diapies = diapers

bathie = bath

poopie = poop

ugh…you get the point.

okay, so it’s acceptable when i speak to my young toddler. once this vocabulary extends to adults, houston we have a problem! a major one. seriously, what has become of me?  i’m a college educated gal and i now speak like…well, a baby. i’m so accustomed to this jargon, that it’s slipping into everyday conversations. i have this feeling that one day, i’m going to really embarrass myself. you just wait and see! i’ll probably be at starbucks standing in line with high school classmates i haven’t seen in over a decade. when the barista asks for my order, i’ll say something like –“can i have a venti frappie with no whippe?” oh yeah, i totally see that happening. to make matters worse, i’ll probably be very matter of fact about it (just as i was with my mister). which by the way, is never to be forgotten in his book. he just can’t stop having fun at my expense.

so at least i can laugh about it. more importantly, i’m willing to confess it.

raquel

beliefs and behavior

my thoughts on religion.

if this is a touchy subject for you, i suggest taking a look at my previous post instead. for those who are interested in my faith and what i believe, please scroll down…
beliefs and behavior

i’m a christian.

i was raised christian. charismatic, to be exact. it is a fundamentalist and often times, a legalistic denomination. although i’m very grateful for the biblical foundation i was given, i don’t identify with it. i also don’t practice that particular belief system.

its sad most christians get such a bad reputation.

i believe we were called to be a light in the darkness. if we didn’t spread the gospel by making a statement, then we wouldn’t be fulfilling our purpose. on the other hand, when we use anti-biblical methods to prove our point, we’ve become “those christians”. the ones who give reason for people to avoid us. the ones who jesus himself, wouldn’t be happy with.

google search

the ideology of the doctrine can be hypocritical and i understand why.

  • there’s a lot of black and white, and rarely any grey area.
    • this extreme is what i believe causes an imbalance in the religion.
  • judgment and condemnation is often habitual, but rationalized as saving an individual from hell.
    • each person has their struggles. some more than others, of course. if so, they’re probably feeling pretty lousy. the perfect way to turn people away from GOD is make them feel worse.
  • the emphasize and obsession of certain sins, while disregarding the others.
    • (i.e., not applying all the things banned in leviticus)
  • cherry picking scriptures. taking certain things literally and others figuratively.
    • (i.e., the “rod” scriptures in proverbs.)
  • “love the sinner, hate the sin” is a great concept. sadly not many people can apply it correctly.
    • I can just as easily say “i hate your (fundamentalist) beliefs, but i love you”. i treat that person with indifference, then i’m the one labeled “rude, offensive, discriminating.” 
  • members who leave the church (without “valid” reasons), are seen as “back-sliders” on the verge of going off the deep end.
    • while it might be true an individual is no longer seeking christ, that isn’t the case in all situations. the reality could be the problem isn’t the person who’s leaving, rather the people who’ve stayed. 
      • this isn’t far fetched, given the many scandals surrounding religious leaders, those in ministry and members of the congregation. nobody is exempt from making mistakes and i truly believe we should extend our grace in the same matter christ would. even so, the decision to leave is a personal one and the reason could be for good measure.

i’ve  seen how the extremes of christianity have created dysfunction and division in communities and families. attending church doesn’t make you a christian, no more than standing in a garage make you a car. citing scriptures word for word, is impressive but doesn’t make you any better. from my experience, fundamentalist christians are often preaching fire and brimstone. the irony is they can sometimes have a “holier than thou” mentality and don’t practice what they preach.

“do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” – matthew 7:1-2

the word “christian” means “believer of jesus christ and his teachings”. as a progressive christian, having a relationship with the divine is more important than being called “religious“. it means doing what jesus would do, despite what a t.v evangelist, minister or so-called bible scholar might think–an interpretation which could oppose the true spoken words of jesus.

“as a christian, i’m sorry for the narrow-minded, judgmental, deceptive, manipulative and harmful actions used in the name of GOD.”

for me, it’s about making a conscious effort to christ-like.

by no means am i claiming to be the perfect, devout christian (i have way too many flaws. too much i could write for days). however, i have an open mind and heart to learn from the teachings of my savior. i make a daily commitment to be more like him in all i do. it’s not easy! jesus was a humble man who loved the outcasts. the ones the world loves to hate. he hung out with the prostitutes, lepers, thieves, tax collectors and gentiles. he was a man of compassion and integrity. he was a revolutionist, because he (even) broke religious laws to share the plan of salvation through his testimony–a message of love and peace.

” i have come that they may have life, and have it to the full ” – john 10:10

blessings to you,

R