Birthday Notes and Remembering

Last Tuesday, I woke up 32 years old.

In those early morning hours, I wrote a little, reflecting on my past, present, and future. And I started counting the birthday gifts I have been given:

I am most thankful for MY CHILDREN. Seeing them every day, watching them grow, teaching them, and having all the time in the world to love them.

TIME is on my side. That is a huge gift. Time is at my disposal. Time to work; time to play; time to love; time to feel; time to create.

FREEDOM is mine. Another gift. No oppression; no riots, no civil or world wars where I live. Freedom to connect through the internet—something not possible years ago. Freedom to live life how I choose to create it.

…my son peeks over my shoulder as he wakes and sits up in bed with me. “Whoa,” he says, “That is a lot of words!”

WORDS. Another gift. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of words which you have given me. You have enabled me to speak, to write, to communicate with words. This gift is mine; let me use it for good.

HEALTH. I have never been hospitalized for an illness, nor have my children. No accidents, through all those years. And every day, I am given another 24 hours to enjoy living with a healthy, breathing body.

After these, there are others; the list could go on… TRAVEL…FRIENDS…A JOB…MONEY TO PAY THE GROWING BILLS…A HOUSE TO LIVE IN.

Lord, I thank you for all these birthday gifts, and ask you to guide me through another year. Keep me challenged, changing, growing, accepting of all that life has still to give.

Last year’s birthday celebrations, I pigged out on German food with my boys!

Year Highlights:

14 May—On my 31^st birthday (after an early celebration in Stuttgart, Germany, we drove to Italy and arrived in our new home on Lake Como, possibly one of the prettiest places on earth.

The winding, still snowy road through the Alpine border into Northern Italy–our car was packed gypsy-style!

In Italy, life was simple and good (Read about it here.) I got back into painting and even sold some of my work in this amazing, picture-perfect place. Every artist’s dream.

Summer on Lake Como when my mermaid friend came for a visit

Even though my hands were full with a toddler, and I got pregnant (yes, Alexandra was made in Italy!), the desire of my heart to get back to paid-writing in some form was granted through work-from-home jobs for Philippine Airlines Inflight magazine and the Department of Tourism’s new website.

Growing belly in September

At this time, we also launched Lifestyle Planet, a start-up website magazine now growing rapidly! I’m so excited for the future of this 3^rd baby of mine! (Go to the link now!)

My little man, always in awe

By the time we got back to Saxony, vibrant Autumn colors had arrived—my absolute favorite European season. And then, we even got some early snow!

Snow in Sachsen

…but I’m really not a deep-in-winter kind of girl…thankfully, we made it back to sunny Southeast Asia in time to have a tropical Christmas. Reunited with my one dozen brothers and sisters, Karsten got to meet his very young aunties and uncles, and experience again the fun chaos that is Manila.

7 months pregnant in December–Karsten turned 3 on December 22!

We kicked off 2013 outside the metro, where we now stay (again, temporarily), just a few minutes’ drive from the beach and bay. We came here to have the baby in a more tranquil place, and to ensure that our kids had clean, fresh air to breathe.

Boys at play

Alexandra was born on the 1st of March, 2013, by scheduled C-section, even heavier than her brother. Even though it was a surprise getting her, and not in any of our plans, I’m glad for our beautiful girl.

Picture taken at less than two months old

I don’t know now where the footprints in the sand will lead.

It seems that change is coming very soon again. Story of our life.

But as another year says hello, I am just thankful to have made it this far. I’m setting new goals, dreaming new dreams, but also trying to cherish the everyday simple. The 5pm walks through nature; the crazy screaming (newborns!) nights; the children; more time.

Last year was not without its trials, tears and challenges. The roads were many, both literal and in my mind. And as my family grows, so do the daily obstacles. I’m hoping to keep taking this one day at a time, while still setting long term goals and reaching them. And I’m grateful for everyone who has been a part of this journey.

Sunsets by the bay

I can’t believe it’s been more than three decades! Can’t wait to see what’s around the corner. Cheers to new beginnings! New life, new love, new adventures!

Beer, anyone??

Heroic Vs. Happy: Notes on Not Breastfeeding

Lago di Garda, Italy, 2010

As I shuffle around the house fixing things in the kitchen, I can’t help but notice the large sign on the baby-formula can sitting on the counter:

“Breastfeeding is best for babies up to two years and beyond.”

And beyond?

Are they crazy? No way am I having a two year-old yanking on my sore boobs for 24 months, AND BEYOND!

I breastfed my firstborn for about 5 months before going back to the office, where it was too much trouble to pump milk every couple of hours while your officemates wait in line for the bathroom.

I remember, shortly after that, watching a local TV show, where some celebrity dad was going on and on about the benefits of breastfeeding. I was like, “Whatever, you don’t know anything about the pain your poor wife is going through”. I guess it’s not something anyone can understand until they have experienced themselves, having the baby attached to them every two hours, the uncomfortable breasts, the fever-like feelings if you are out and miss a feed, the bursting ducts inside, the general pain and discomfort.–Not to mention that you can’t wear normal clothes!

Breastfeeding is really an unselfish thing to do, and of course we know it’s best for our babies, with so many benefits for them. But recently, I’ve realized that there are many things we do unselfishly, just because we are told to, and society expects us to do them.

Breastfeeding is one of those things.

My newborn is only two months old, but since we started her on formula every few feeds (it seemed that my own milk was not filling her up), something else has happened:

I’ve become happier, and so has she.

Today, when I was home alone, she slept a total of seven hours straight, when previously, she’d only sleep for half-hour intervals before wanting to latch on me again. In those seven hours, I painted a giant canvas, ate a decent meal, played with my son, written and edited articles for work and this blog, and relaxed.

I’ve been feeling great.

On the other hand, there is always some sense of guilt—is it okay to do this, just because it makes me feel better? Because I am seeing so many benefits in my own life? Is it right to feel ok about being “normal” again, getting to sleep, being happier, calmer, stronger, less stressed?

If part of the point of breastfeeding is the bonding with baby, then let me say this: the time I do spend with my child now is more relaxing; I enjoy her more; I am bonding better. I am not in pain or discomfort.  I am able to go out without worrying that the errands will take more than two hours, or that I’ll come home sick, or that I’m failing my child by being away.

I know that as parents, we all want the best for our babies. But sometimes, that starts with finding what is best for you.

What makes you happiest as a parent is going to directly influence your child, and your home atmosphere.

If only society didn’t place guilt on mothers who also just want the best for their families. Like having a C-Section as opposed to natural birth; or taking the epidural instead of suffering and martyring through it.

Personal opinion: if you’ve tried and found out that breastfeeding isn’t going so well, it’s okay to relax, try the formula, and see how your life goes.

My eldest son, weaned off my breast at 5 months, is completely healthy and happy three years later. He is scary smart, and multi-talented. I am so proud of him.

It also helps to realize where there should be leeway for personal choice and our own happiness, so that we can move past those feelings of guilt and focus on loving our children, for all their precious childhood years—and beyond!

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Did you stop breastfeeding before six months? If so, what were your feelings when making that decision? Do you think there are other areas where we as parents allow guilt to hold us back from loving life?

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Disclaimer: In writing this, I’m not knocking those who desire to breastfeed their babies for longer, and who have made the personal choice to do so. I applaud them. And I support the government’s efforts to encourage breastfeeding in mothers countrywide. This post is simply for those mothers who could do without the guilt, with knowing that it’s okay to follow your maternal instincts, too. Your body knows best.

Two Week Wonder

Life has been on pause for the last two weeks, as I’ve slowly recovered from the surgery. I’ve had to depend on others to do things for me, accept that time must move slowly these days, and stay awake at nights for my tiny one.

It’s taken a new turn, this twist in adventures—and yet somehow, it doesn’t seem strange; just the natural flow of things.

It was my son who first broke the news to me. “I have a baby sister!” he declared, one sunny day in Lake Como, nine months ago.

“No you don’t,” I half-frowned at him.

But he did, already. I just didn’t know it.

Trusting his instincts, I asked him, shortly before the birth, “What color is your baby sister’s hair? Is it blonde, like yours?”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly, without looking up from his puzzle. “It’s black. Schwarz. Like yours.”

And so it is.

Now, she’s here, the little lady bug, who sleeps so much I am secretly hoping she stays this quiet and lets me do my work. Her features already take on quite a mature look, though she is just weeks old.

And when she smiles in her sleep, it is the most beautiful thing on earth.

I told you, this is my journey.

Yes, I miss the days of past, of ziplining across gorges while travelling provincial terrains; of backpacking with just my partner, before there were babies; the days of going on a whim, and risking a lot without a second thought.

I know someday, I’ll return to Africa, to the tribal regions of the Philippines, to the vineyards of Tuscany, to intoxicating India. But by then, I’ll have my new travelers with me, little feet marking their own path.

And by then, the journeys—as a family—will be even better.

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Now, something for smiles: Tina Fey’s A Mother’s Prayer for Her Daughter

My Girl

Scanning blank pages on this new morning. White space to fill—not mine, but my daughter’s. This new life which has yet to be lived; days and milestones yet to be celebrated.

Moments yet to be realized and treasured.

A brand new start, for something that hasn’t existed yet. How do you capture innocence? How do you celebrate life so pure, so angelic, so vulnerable?

We begin a new journey together, my love. And as we do, I hold your hand, but hope to not hold you back.

Life is for learning, exploring, making mistakes, and trying again.

Life is for love, and loss, and living again.

You must write in the pages of your own book—I can guide you, but not write them for you. You will learn with time, grow with the moments; intuition will guide you, and love will always bring you back home.

You were born into a family of travelers, wanderers, explorers, adventures. We will give you the experiences which will be yours to keep, the boat to set sail and launch out to new horizons. But what you find there and where you decide to anchor will be up to you and your choices.

I can hold you and nurture you only for a little while. I can be your strength just a few years.

When you finally go out on your own, when you finally know what it means to follow your heart, I trust that you will hear it beating in all the right directions.

I trust you will find your way.

Just as you found your way to us.

Alexandra, born March 1, 2013

Midnight in a Mother’s Thoughts

My eyes linger over stunning photographs of blue and emerald water, reaching out from banks of white. In a couple of the frames, a man stands just at the shore, his back to the camera’s lens. He’s looking out onto a horizon dotted with vibrant colors of kites soaring, sailing high in the wind.

Breath comes in short gasps, especially at this late hour of the night. There is a weight of three kilos on my chest, and I shift awkwardly amongst bean-bag pillows, propping myself up on an already painful shoulder, so I can see the screen of my aging Lenovo better.

Beside me, on a messy bed, my three-year-old son smiles in his sleep.

The weight I feel is my second child, incubating the final month inside me. This last stretch of time will be the hardest, and the heaviest. But I’ve imagined, many times over, the first moment of finally seeing and holding my daughter—and that makes the wait less painful.

Scanning photographs my husband has sent of his day’s work as a kitesurf tour operator out on remote islands, I remember our carefree days of travel, when I could go at a moment’s notice and journey with him. Back then—four years ago—we had no other obligations. No children tying us down; no diapers to pack or bottles to wash. Just two people; two backpacks; two passports—the world.

Now we are four.

I’ve made the decision to have this second child, and meanwhile, to let my husband carry on as he has before the children came. His is a world of constant change and movement, and I would do everything to keep it that way. What I fear most, though, is the stagnation that conforming to “typical” family life may render. Of becoming attached to things, and houses, and places.

Yet some days, there’s a simple wanting of my own painting studio, with a hundred brushes and three easels; a full refrigerator and the break of constant relocation. I want to furnish the kids rooms with toys, and books—big hardback ones that are too heavy to lug around airports. They would have their own shelves and boxes for all the extras…

Is there somewhere in the middle one can find, a balance between being blown with the wind, and finding steady footing? Is there a spot you reach in life, when you’ve figured how to get on with the journey, while keeping rooted in the essentials?

I feel as if I’m still trying to find it. The longing I have is not for a physical home, because I have found that all over the globe with my boys, when we pitched our tents or mattress beds wherever the wind took us. And it all felt quite right.

I ponder how far we have come, the miles we have made together—it’s all worked out so far, despite the physical hardships, the sacrifices, and the endless not knowing.

Baby turns inside me, her fists pounding as if wanting to dig a way out. A sensation tightens inside me, hardening for nearly a minute, and then slowly releasing—Braxton Hicks. I soothe her from the outside, my hand rubbing against my own layer of skin, taut and stretched beyond normal. The inner fistfight doesn’t stop, but I’ve learned it hardly will, and that this is a good thing.

Closing my eyes, and rolling heavily onto my other hip, I shuffle the pillow underneath a leg lock, trying to find some semblance of comfort. It comes, finally, with the stillness of the night and another barrage of thoughts.

We were travelers, and still are. The journey has taken a different path, but it’s kept me walking steadily forward.

The moon winks through the open window, spraying its soft light ever so gently. In the silence, I drift and prepare again to dream.

34 Weeks and Counting…

This is my personal journey to discovering new life, and what my body is capable of. It does seem like the last 8 months have sped by—due to a lot of physical changes.

But I must say I’ve taken a more relaxed approach to pregnancy—and birth—this second time around. Knowing what will happen, how my body will react and register has made me a lot less anxious. Knowing that those changes must inevitably come, that the recovery process will be slow but sure, and knowing that my body was made to handle it, is helping me cope.

My current 34-week symptoms include…

• irritated eyes
• sleepless nights
• general heaviness
• clumsiness
• short-term memory loss

On the upside:

• No stretch marks or skin problems
• Getting my baby needs—bed, clothes, etc. (newborn shopping is fun!)
• Have located a new house for our family to move into just in time for the birth
• Hired a new maid/nanny

One new thing is that the birth will be an elective C-section (given my previous history of emergency section after a 48-hour labor marathon!), so I’ve chosen the date (in March) already, and feel like there is at least a little control in this area. And hopefully less pain…no way will I go through those kind of contractions again!!!

Did I mention it’s a girl?

That thought makes me happy…four weeks to go…I can do this!

Life Cycles

I’ve been absent for awhile because this belly is getting in the way…but so much to look forward to! Will catch up with you soon

Seven Ways to Make Room for Magic

I am no coach, no shrink, and no degree-holding professional. I am simply a mother, wife, and lover of life. And life has, in so many ways, taught me—from experience—that there is a force out there, greater than ourselves, which causes amazing things to happen.

As you say hello to all the surprises this New Year has to offer, think about a few conscious things you can CHOOSE TO DO, to make room for the wonders of life’s magic:

1. BE GRATEFUL. Always have words of gratitude in your heart, and on your lips. Wake up and kickstart your day by saying, thank you.
2. BE OPEN. Life takes us by surprise. Go with the flow.
3. SMILE. “Life’s worthwhile, when you just smile,” sang Charlie Chaplin (1887-1977), the famous comedian. Did you know Chaplin was also a troubled soul? Yet he masked his suffering by making others happy. And the world was truly a little bit better because of the “Little Tramp” in his signature bowler hat.
4. GIVE. You don’t have to give money or things at all. Give your time; give your listening ear; give of yourself in little ways and life will give you back so much more.
5. FORGIVE. Holding on to the past hurts no one but our self.
6. LET GO. Renovate and upgrade your life every now and then by doing away with things you don’t need—trinkets, papers, clutter, old clothes, bitterness—all must go.
7. ACCEPT. After you let go, ta da!—there’s incredible SPACE! And yet, we sometimes let ourselves remain empty and lacking. Do you hold love at a distance because you don’t feel deserving of its warmth? Do you keep miracles at bay because you berate yourself for mistakes made in the past? Allow yourself to accept all the goodness that can be yours this year.

Photo by Rabbi Fink

Open your heart wide, and let that love flow in. YOU ARE WORTHY.

Welcome it, just as you welcome everything that is NEW and FRESH, and BEAUTIFUL in 2013. Have a magical New Year!

Love,

Nyx

Starting Over

CHANGE. It’s seemed to be the ever-present theme of my life. But especially, this last year.

With change came movement; development; life.

The last week has been another series of change. After one month in traffic-jammed Manila, we set out to explore the nearby beaches in the province’s outskirts, and ended up loving the fresh air so much, we went home only to pack up our suitcases and get back out of the city—for good.

I’ve learned that, every time there is uncertainty, insecurity about my future, or when it seems the way is clouded with fog, and I can’t see where I’m headed…somehow, the road keeps going and winds up somewhere amazing.

Here’s wishing that your year-end will be one that you can look back on and see where the challenges drove you to champion; where the struggles made you stronger; where the loss made room for new love.

I don’t think 2013 is going to be any easier. But we get wiser with each mistake made…when we open our hearts to life’s possibilities—even the possibility of failure—we create space in that future to grow, to deepen, to breathe.

Just keep on living. Keep on loving. Keep believing!

First Week Back in Manila

It’s midday—not even rush hour and I hold my son’s hand as we briskly walk a few blocks, past bumper-to-bumper traffic, holding our noses from the fumes, and defying the heat of the sun in search for an empty taxi.

I’ve gone to town with Karsten to try to set up Internet for our newly-rented apartment, which is on a different side of the city. Only about four Kilometers away, but it takes 40 minutes to plow through traffic.

After finally hailing one, we get in and sit tight. The driver doesn’t try to negotiate a higher price to our destination. At least one thing has changed since we were last here—for the better.

I subconsciously hold my son close to me, strapping my arm over his lap like a seatbelt. He’s not used to sitting in a moving vehicle without being tied down to a kiddie car seat. We’ve only been back in this country a couple of days. He’s enjoying the change.

“Ma’am, are your doors locked?”  the driver calls back, and turns to check the locks—which I’ve already secured, an old habit.

But I still shift uncomfortably. This isn’t your backstreet or dingy side of town. It’s urban Makati, the busy commercial center of the metro. High rises fill the streets; suited businessmen come and go. And yet…

“Just in case of hold-uppers,” he adds.  “They like to stand on the corner and nab people in traffic.”

“But there’s a lot of guards in this area, no?” I ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs, “but sometimes they are part of the hold-up, too.”

I hold my son closer.

Welcome back to crazy, chaotic Manila.