Rants of a Pregnant Mama from Chaos Toward Healing

I found out the week before my first daughter's second birthday.  I was busy with an internship to help me find a "real job".  I needed a job; I had been unemployed for almost 3 years, even though I have always engaged in volunteer based community work.

Okay so I was busy and had stopped tracking my moon cycle. At that time also weaned my eldest.  It was the beginning of June, and was spotting for a few months by then and my period absent for the whole month of May.  After feeling nauseous for three days....I knew.

So I told my partner, who had been trying to find a job for almost 2 years about my suspicion and he said - "Shut the f... up, for real?!"  We bought a cheap pregnancy test at CVS. I peed on it as soon as I arrived home.  The plus sign quickly formed....I then told my partner, "Read, what does that mean?"

He responded "It means you're pregnant.  I guess we are having Another baby"

"Wait but look one line is lighter than the other."  I said.

"That doesn't matter look."  He then showed me the instructions...yes they said that one might be lighter that the other.  Damn it, I was pregnant Again!

I stared at the test for about 10 minutes. I picked it up looked and looked, but the answer did not change.

"Oh My God! I am pregnant AND We Are Poor!".I thought."What are we going to do?!"

Denial was in full force."Maybe I did it wrong.  I peed on it too long...I can't BE...Not Now!"

I couldn't deny it for long.  Yes I was a poor pregnant mother and after a month of denial I decided to figure out what will we do now

Not having money is difficult and people always blame poverty on poor womyn of color who bring children into this world to suffer or leach off the government.  At times I wanted an abortion or I would pray for a miscarriage so I wouldn't feel guilty. Guilt is such a draining feeling.

Life inside my womb kept growing.  No money. No job. I thought, maybe Conservatives are right, poor people should not have babies, but we do -HA!

My friend Kristina also pregnant and broke reminded me once "Well mujer, we are not the only broke people to give birth;we'll be okay."

So yes we are not the first broke parents to have children, not at all, not the first and not the last.

I decided to keep my baby, I already loved this life inside my womb and recognized it was my choice; at the time did not realize how difficult it will be.

Though I had chosen,  the negative thoughts kept flooding my mind and I could not stop them even if I tried.

What was I thinking?

Why didn't I protect myself?

How can I bring a baby into this world?

I'm broke....what can I offer this baby? We don't have anything!!

My hormones were out of control and so were my emotions.

I was Angry. Guilty. Sad. Depressed. Afraid. We didn't have any money and kept struggling. We received cash aid and my partner recycled metal and still did not make ends meet.We slept on the hard cold floor since we didn't have a mattress. There were times we didn't have running water or gas. We went  without electricity for over a month. It was difficult; I complained a lot and frustrated my partner.  He of course was also going through depression but manifested differently than I did.

I felt like I was drowning at times or slipping little by little beginning to get buried in quick sand.

Thoughts of ending my life and my oldest daughter’s as well populated my mind.  It felt like nobody cared about us. My thoughts had me believing we wouldn't survive anyway maybe we should end it here.  I fantasized about getting run over or jumping off the freeway or dying in our sleep.

My friends and some family members helped me a lot. They listened and provided some type of support such as ideas on how to cope. My friends Reyna and Sammy babysat or dragged me out of the house.  Bernie took me to acupuncture appointments or  out shopping for food. My sister Julie would me pick up and drove me out of my house. One time another good friend, Sofia helped my family by organizing friends to chip in and pay my rent; they also provided me with a mattress. Panquetzani gave us space for my family and I in her home for a while. Aubrey was there with me during the Kali Ma phase.  Felt very lucky that I had this much support from my friends, my partner on the other hand was another story.

My partner was not emotionally there for me, he was busy focusing on surviving to feel empathy for me, I felt that he didn't love me.   I was angry and sad at the same time,  feeling ugly and stupid.  He wasn't involved in the pregnancy as much as he was with my first. I would scream, fight, and cry a lot. Without realizing, I was trying to drag him to insanity with me.  He would lose it plenty of times and said I was spoiled since I grew up in a privileged country.  We had somewhere to live, even though we struggled to pay rent.  We had food, even though we received food stamps. He would always point out how we were lucky for not getting bombed like the women in Palestine.  These were all words that a depressed pregnant women should not hear.  Plus I wanted to be off food stamps and have a house with space to grow our own food...then I'd be happy.  Sometimes I would think, he is right we are rich and I am spoiled.  Others survive worst, we will survive this and life is Beautiful.  But every minute I changed my mind.  I was pregnant and an emotional wreck trying to find balance somewhere inside myself.

Sometimes I was reminded by my good friend Maria that unhappiness is not necessarily and "bad" thing; it is also part of life.  “Don't be afraid of the dark times,” she said “immerse yourself in them and be at peace”.  I started calling my depression my purple phase of chaos and reminded myself that only after chaos there is true peace.  I meditated and my mantra was "Immerse yourself in darkness to find the light."

Being poor and pregnant is tough because at this time you need love, security and peace.. I didn't feel any of that.  I  coped as best as I could and some people did support me.  I dragged myself outside sometimes, I would journal and draw my emotions into  paper.  Sometimes I danced or would drink warm tea and take deep breaths to gain some peace. What helped me the most was speaking to people about what I felt and receiving their much needed empathy.

My friends organized a mother's blessing for me; where I was honored as a mother.  They also organized my postpartum care (meals, babysitting, laundry, house work etc.)  above all they promised to always be there for our family in support.  Since that night my partner changed . Didn’t realize, because he kept it all in and was just as afraid as I was. After that night, surrounded by our loved ones he was relieved to see we were truly not alone.

After the  turmoil experienced during my pregnancy, I had an orgasmic birth with my partner and friends supporting me throughout labor and birth, and my oldest daughter nearby.  My postpartum phase was a wonderful time; people visited our home  not only to meet our newborn but also helped me with recovery.  I felt loved and I allowed myself to be bathed, fed, and taken care of by those that loved me.  This was immensely healing to feel so much community love. My self-love grew and so did my love for my family.  I was happy to be a mother again.

I share my story in attempts to help other mothers and pregnant womyn especially those facing economic difficulty so they see that survival and happiness is possible.  Through this story I shared my process, struggles, my support and strategies in  hopes they may help someone find help or sanity. It’s not easy to remember this, but we are not stuck and Money is not #1. We have something better: we are resourceful and hopeful, and to remember after chaos comes peace!

                             Speak up when you are down because you are not alone!!

A special thanks to my partner and children; we continue on our healing journey and doing so much better.  A very special thanks to my sisters from Ticicalli Yahualli, Classmates in Jumpstart Mental Health LA, Colleagues from LDIRs in Health, Echo Parenting and Education, Ana Paula Markel from BINI Birth, The Village Health Foundation, family, and many other friends. Whether you are aware of it or not, you were there for me during these challenging times and because of YOU I was able to pull myself out and  I am immensely grateful for this.  Much Love and Blessings to you ALL.

Decolonizing Playtime and Exploring Different Perspectives At Home.

As a  mother of a 5 year old daughter I have been made aware of the overwhelming amount of "Princess" merchandise that is out in the market targeting young girls. Though I understand that the "princess" themed merchandise appeals to the inner nobility and queen-like nature of our little girls, I do believe that it is a limiting concept and misrepresentation of all the wonderful things that our children are. For those who are of Native American/Indigenous backgrounds, the effects of these mainstream images and concepts are even more complex. Aware of these issues, I have decided that I want my child to enjoy her youth but to also learn how to exercise her mind, spark her curiosity  and to seek possibilities of progress and creation while honoring our culture. 

Here is a small home project we did together to expand the possibilities of a toy she was gifted at her preschool's christmas event last year, We hope you enjoy this and that it gives you ideas for personalizing your toys at home. :)

We stated with this Disney Princesses tracing light table with moving vinyl strips made to mix and match princesses and dresses. 

We found the center of the vinyl strips and cut along the middle to remove them from the light table. 

We picked an old magazine and found our modge podge and brush...

... and selected a few images from an article and ads.

Using the modge podge and brush, we glued the cut outs on the frame of the light table. (I only used a few since I did not want her to feel like her space had been invaded or make it unfamiliar to her).

Then we picked a cutout of some artwork we printed from the internet.

We used tape to secure the image on the light table. For tracing, we thought it would be fun to try Japanese calligraphy paper and use ink stone and brush for tracing.

Here's a close up of a Japanese calligraphy brush and the calligraphy paper secured with tape on the tracing table. 

This is the ink stone. 

She started by tracing the head and the nose of the buffalo...

Then she thought her drawing would look nicer if she used color paint instead...

She called it " The Rainbow Tatanka".

My daughter's creativity never ceases to amaze me. The focus and attention she pays to her art just makes me smile and warms my heart to see such dedication from such a little human. Her soul sets an example for me to follow of how to put my all into what I do and set the best intentions...

We kept the vinyl cut outs, so that she has the choice to trace princesses and dresses if she wants to, but it is great to know that she is learning she can create amazing things when she is given a safe space to create and explore different perspectives...

Love and blessings to all the families of Earth!!

"perspectives" blog series 2015.

zxlbrainstorms.blogspot.com

Healing through Storytelling

I went to the Healing thru Writing Workshop: An evening with Elizabeth Alexander presented by The California Endowment.

I didn't make it to the full event and naturally, as this is one of the precious moments when the kids are with grandma I wanted to get the most out of the night. I walked in and found a seat just as the Q&A began. After listening to questions, I realized I had a question. I raised my hand. The person with the mic came over and placed the mic in front of me, everyone in the room turning in my direction as I begin to utter words, “Hello, I am Sara. My question is about…”

I feel myself pause.

I feel the stories inside of me waiting for my permission to be expressed. As more eyes turn in my direction, I contain these stories and continue, “When it gets hard to write. When there is more than one story that you know you want to share because you know it is healing and empowering to create a space for more people to share. But it’s so hard to write because it’s hard to go there and there is a lot of untangling to do. How do you get yourself to write these stories?”

And in my emotional fullness from even asking the question, I hear her say,

“Stories live in our bodies. Crying it out helps but you have to move yourself through it because you can get stuck there.”

I hadn't realized how these stories had a physical nature to them. But they do. I know this because I feel them affect my body as I become aware of the stories. And even as I ignore these stories they show up as pains or discomfort in my body. Being aware of where these stories are stored assisted me in releasing them. It felt easier to write freely in poetry, in vague terms at first. And I think that’s a good start. 

Whatever your story is and if you don’t feel safe yet to share, like me, I encourage you to seek ways to begin to release the story from your body with intention and gentleness. I began to instruct myself to release and I found that it was a helpful starter. Check it out:

Pull your stories out of your body

And write

Write that story to release it

Unearth those pains

Unearth the joys

Unearth the pleasure

Unearth the tears

Purge your story

Compost the ugly feelings

With delightful adjectives

Retell that story like a novel

Retell it like an action story

Retell that story how you felt it

With the ending you would have wanted

With the beginning you wish you had

Pull it out of your head

Cry it out of your eyes

Pluck it out of your face

Stomp it out of your feet

Birth it out of your womb

There’s no wrong way to tell a story

There’s no right way to write

Not when you are writing to free yourself

Not when your spirit needs you to honor your truth

Not when you need to let it go

Your story is here for you to

Always with you

Housed in your temple

Asking for your permission to be released

Anytime anyone asks, “Are you ok?”

Your story is there 

Waiting for you to begin to tell it

Awaiting your permission

And sometimes it doesn’t

Sometimes your story comes thru

Without any warning

Flooding tears

Heavy breaths

Gleeful smiles

Rolling eyes

Your story is in your body

And wants to exist outside of you

Someone where it can move

Inspire

Heal

Transform

And help you grow

Your story is present with you

Free yourself from stories of the past

Stories of wounded hearts

Stories of defeat

Stories of rage

Stories of cycles yet to be broken

Create a new story

A narrative that calls in your

Beauty

Strength

And intellectual prowess

Create a new story by shifting those old stories

Create a new story by living the life you want to live

Create that story every day the way you want it

Create stories you want to keep in your body

That won’t hurt you in your solitude

Create a story you are proud to tell

Make that story

Share that story

Give it life with words

Give it meaning with metaphors

Give it rhythm with alliteration

Write that story

Write and live every day

With imagination

With Love