My SUN!!!

At a certain point in time, I thought I had everything in life figured out. I was able to juggle between work, university, foreign language classes, gym, housework  (the least possible - of course), writing, going out and all the regular things normal people do.
Until something happened and it all changed: I became a mom!
I watched my normal routines fade away and new habits and things I have thought I’d ever do, replace them.

Now, after almost 6 weeks, I have embraced my motherhood. I find it completely normal to sniff butts to check out for poop. To get peed on. To suck boogers out of tiny noses using a special device. To differentiate between 700 different types of creams and medications. And to use only one hand to do a thousand thing while carrying an infant on the other arm. And the list goes on...

Now, most of my afternoons consist of a crying baby, a hungry cat, food attempted to be cooked but burning on the oven instead and me wanting to pee all at the same time. And nights turned into a cycle of showers, sterilizing bottles and doing laundry!

Now, it’s okay to arrive late to any event looking like an old pair of socks and smelling like a rotten mushroom. Now, it’s fine surviving on four to five hours of sleep. Now, rotating between 3 outfits is acceptable, and wearing a milk-stained shirt is the new trend.

And I think by now, my husband made peace with my new Zombie look. And the bags under my eyes believe they are designer.

My new hobbies include walking around the house trying to calm my colic baby. I also took up singing; only nursery rhymes and songs I make up. I can now balance holding a car seat, a diaper bag, my purse and the groceries all at once. Travelling is enjoyable too, however, we only travel to one destination: Grandma Land. What else?

Well, all of that doesn’t weigh a feather compared to the smile I see on my son’s face. Watching him grow, interact with us, fall asleep peacefully in my arms are ridiculously and insanely rewarding.
Looking him in the eye and kissing his little toes are the new meaning to my life. And keeping him safe is what I live and die for.

If I were to go through all the pain and sufferings of pregnancy and labor, I would all over again, in a heartbeat. Besides, he’s the one who heard my heartbeats from the inside, and he became the one my heart beats for. I now have a small piece of heaven, I have a son.

Autumn...

He tried to keep his memories intact, until they ripped him into a dozen pieces.

It was the beginning of another autumn, a season he disliked.
He just hated how his backyard’s trees turned yellow. He didn’t want the leaves and their thousand shades of green to change, because they reminded him of the color of her eyes.
Ten years passed, maybe more, he wasn’t certain, but those hues of green were something he could never forget.

He watched his kids play around. He smiled proudly at them. But not a single day went by where he didn’t think about her.
He threw his heart in frozen lakes a million times, but that compartment which belonged to her, never hardened. He was forever changed by her.
In the way he talked, there was her. In the way he perceived life, there was her vision. In his children, he saw how she could’ve raised them. They might have picked up different hobbies or passions, he always thought.

He opened an old wallet: boarding passes, metro tickets, bills, silly notes, yet, not a single photograph. Each piece of paper smelled of youth and of a particular memory. He put it back in his inside pocket and allowed himself a flashback: places, achievements, songs, foreign languages, colorful moments and tons more.

After several minutes, he felt a gentle hand rubbing his back. “Tough day at work, huh?
He nodded without saying a word.
“Dinner’s ready.”, the voice said.
He got up, kissed his wife’s forehead and walked inside with her.

Counting Weeks!

So, my thigh gap stuck its tongue out at me and waved goodbye while  I stared at the mirror. And my thighs have recently met for the first time and decided to become inseperable.

I am no longer a sample size, the scale displays scary digits and my flat stomach (and abs! *swallows hard*) got replaced by a balloon.

And speaking of stomachs. Mine turned into a bully. Only the cool food gets to stay in and hang out; while it beats up then kicks out any unwanted nerdy meals.

I have become a water fountain, but not those pretty ones. I just take in water, then splash it, in bathrooms. Oh! And bathrooms are my new favorite places.

Moreover, my own bladder has started a rebellion against me. Sneezing and coughing are its weapons! And believe me, they are lethal.

And when hunger strikes, things get real – predator real. Let’s not forget to mention how my heart burns and starts a camp fire in the middle of the night.

So if you were ever told that pregnancy is enjoyable or in any way fun, be sure that this person is a big fat liar.

You’re on a constant emotional rollercoaster. You’re tired all the time. You eat uncontrollably. You breathe like you’re underwater. You look like an overstuffed Falafel sandwich and you walk like a turtle carrying its shell on the front.

But when you hear the baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound. When you watch his growth each month. When you buy him clothes. When he starts kicking you. When he moves in your womb. That’s when your heart flutters and sinks to your knees. And that’s when your motherly instinct builds up.

I have had rough months and there are more coming ahead. However, I know it is all worth it.
Now I don’t mind if he rips my insides, as long as he is healthy. As long as I have a  little piece of me to call me “Mommy”.

A letter from ...

Son, watching you from afar

grow and become a man has been the most painful feeling ever. Yet, I've always been proud of you. You have turned out to be strong, confident, caring and gentle.

I may not have been around, but you have too many blessings to count. And I want you to know that I have been with you in every step of the road.

You've always been in safe hands, and now you're even in safer and warmer arms. Arms that hold you through the night.

Son, I couldn't be happier because you chose her, as your partner.
Do you know that she can't sleep unless you're home, safe and sound?
Do you know that she thinks about you during the day, even when she is very busy?
Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?
She washes your clothes before hers, checks if you have all of your medicine and makes sure you have eaten.
These are indirect "I love you"s and they are far more valuable than words.

Every night, I smile down at you both knowing how fortunate you are.
Every night, I realize that my prayers from above have not gone in vain.
Every night, I wish I can kiss both your foreheads good night.
Every night, I whisper three words in your ear: I love you.

Love, 
Mommy,
From Heaven,

Salty Scars

In the morning, I heard my mom talking to my dad. She asked him why none of the countries that spoke her language would let us stay there. I knew she was worried. She usually sang happily to me, but this time her throat sounded dry and her voice seemed sad.

Later on, she came to me, smiled and put on my favorite bib. It was blue and white, and it had a bear on it. She told me that we were going somewhere nice and that she loved me.

My dad dragged a bag out the door, and we followed him. They both looked back at what we called home with heaviness that filled the room.

On the bus, my mom breastfed me until I fell asleep. When I woke up, my dad was asking another man for directions as my mother cried.

After a while, we sat in a moving thing. My mom used to call it “boat” in one of her songs. It rocked like mommy’s hands. There was wind which blew my bib up in my face. My mom held me tight against her chest and whispered our usual night prayers. Only I know it wasn’t bedtime or night.

All of a sudden, I heard screams. Water was everywhere. I was drinking salty water without wanting to. I didn’t know where my mom was anymore. I was going under the water.

Then, I could hear my mom humming lullabies. I opened my eyes. I saw birds. I was walking. I was in a green field with flowers, waterfalls and blue skies.
She was right. I was going somewhere nice. And I’m happy I arrived.

A tornado

He pulled a photo out of his pocket: outdated sunglasses, fuzzy hair and two geniune smiles.
Pictures, memories and a few letters are what he has left.

Why was he remembering her anyways? He considered her dead.
According to him, there was no earthly form of her anymore.
Although she existed in real life and she was present in every corner of him, he still opted to think she has left this world.

Sometimes, he’d get weak. And he would imagine her somewhere cooking in a kitchen, chasing a baby around a playground or just reading a book like her old self.
But NO, he would soon push that thought away.

Or he’d picture himself running into her, smiling at her, talking and catching up on all the lost years.
Yet, NO! The girl he knew was resting in peace. It was more comforting to believe that way.

Other times, he’d wish they would auction her so he would make the highest bid, anytime, anywhere, anyhow, just to win her back.

She was a tornado he walked into, a truck he drove under, a disease he caught... And he never fathomed he could love someone he hates so much.

Why?

I took the lid off the nail polish bottle and let two droplets fall on my sanitary pad. I waited for a couple of minutes then I called him and asked for tissue paper.
He walked in, handed me the napkins with a smile and left, not noticing the fake red spots I had made.

Who am I kidding? When and why did I start lying to myself and to him?
Perhaps because this was the last proof of my womanhood, and it has already started to elude me.

I ought to face the ugly truth: my body is now drier than the Sahara Desert.
I’m no longer that young girl with chemicals streaming down her veins. I’m an old woman trapped most of the times in an oven-like body.

I confront my mirror reflection and sigh. My legs can be mistaken for the surface of the moon, and a mosquito landing on one of my “craters” can become the Neil Armstrong of its species. My belly arrives two minutes earlier than me. And my face needs that magical steam machine at the dry cleaner’s which gets rid of all the wrinkles.

Why does he keep on loving me?
I couldn’t even do what any woman – asleep, awake, willingly or unwillingly – can do.
I couldn’t make him a father. I couldn’t bear a child.
My womb is just an empty storage room with lifeless walls. It was, is and will always be effete.

Why am I still his world? The reason behind his smile? His best friend? His backbone?

To all my questions, he always has the same answer:
“Because even time doesn’t have the power to end a love which cannot be explained.”