Flawed Fem

My Flawed Life as a Mother, Sister, and Daughter -To my Family, With fellow women, & In Christ.


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The Child I Am

CHILD SERIES #3

“I truly believe that the privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” -Viola Davis

Without intending to, I had unintentionally started a Child series, writing about my
children in my first two posts. Different child, back to back periods in my life. So to round
it up, I would like to end right back at the start. As the Child I Am.

The Child I am. I am the child of my earthly father and mother. Their blood runs
through me. Their essence becomes me. I learn what I want or not want as a young girl
surrounded by male siblings and cousins. My identity as a woman was formed in
response to my family traditions- demonstrated by the fears, guts, and faiths of my
mother and grandmother. My mother uprooting herself in the city. My grandmother
taking pride in her work, when women don’t work. My mother juggling work and rearing her four kids, being truly present in both. My grandmother travelling around the world in her 50s-60s…I am feminine & feminist through their independence, their support systems. Their capacity to love, their love boundaries. Their many strengths, and their valuable flaws.

The Child I am. I am the child of two lands:
To my motherland- I bleed when she bleeds, I rise when she soars to new heights. I
have become aware of politics in my teen years, but it is only in the recent years that
my heart for social justice has grown deeper. Ironically, it is being away from my home
country that I have begun to search my soul and feel regret for being blind to the poor
man’s plight, and deaf to their desperate cries for justice. I had to be ripped apart from
my comfortable life and as I start to live a life of hard work, I have begun to appreciate
the same hard work my countrymen have done. Yet I succeed, while most of them perish in the cycle of poverty, corruption, and blind religion.
To my adopted land, my second mother- I have dedicated many years of social work to
you. And what I had only hoped to do in my motherland, I have achieved here- to do
good work with your homeless, oppressed, and sick. You have made me more aware of
race, and a vast array of cultures, which both exhilarates/excites me and frustrates/cuts
through me. And as much as the current political air angers and terrifies me, I continue
to hope and pray for my children’s sake, for their future’s sake.

The Child I am. I am a Child of God. Above all else, I define myself in Him.  I am loved just as I love. His love is unconditional. And in spite of my imperfect love, I am filled with His grace and mercy everyday. I am wonderfully and uniquely made. Even as I am not without doubts. Even as I question my existence. Even as I am nagged daily by mother’s guilt. And even as I am a human forever bound by flaws–  My Father’s Spirit inspires me to live supernaturally. To aim beyond my limits. To live a life on fire. To bear the fruits of patience, kindness, and love:
“So my Lord, I bring this offering;
A stubborn heart of stone
And ask You, in its absence
Please exchange it for Your own.”- Beth Moore

The Child I Am. Of many mothers. Of two fathers. Of one Spirit. They have mold me. They have become me. They have formed The Woman I Am.

 

IMG_20170308_092113699

A symbol of Me ~Live Love Laugh~

 

 


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The Child I found

 

blogdoggy
For this blog, refer to the left child only;)

While my last blog was somber- talking about the child that I lost, this one will be a love tribute to the child that I found:

Let me start from the beginning. The decision to have a dog in the family was a no-brainer. Me and my husband were both raised with dog pets, and we both love animals. So it was only a matter of time before we would get one. When we finally did, hubby did the choosing, and he decided to take this dog that kept coming to him, even when he was holding other dogs. Hubs thought this dog was very sweet. Turns out hub’s instinct was right. To this day our dog is the sweetest child in the family, cuddling and sitting beside us, placing his cute lil butt next to us every chance he gets.

When hubby got home to surprise me with a dog, I was hesitant at first. Not because I didn’t want a dog, but I wasn’t sure of the timing. This was around the time of my miscarriage, and I wasn’t sure I could take care of another being when I just lost another. I didn’t trust myself to work hard (hello potty training!). I didn’t know if I could meet his basic needs (food, bath, and those damn eye tears). Most of all, I was uncertain if I can love him while my heart is still breaking.

It turns out I didn’t need to rely on myself to feel love. Because it was his love that enabled me to feel again. With every nudge, every lick, every cuddle- each one peeling off the layers of darkness engulfing me. Day by day his unwavering loyalty opened my eyes to lightness. And willed me to live. To love. And to dare dream of a family again. We might have thought we were the ones who saved our dog when we got him, but it was really him who ended up saving us. Saving me. He gave love when I have little to give. He stood still when my world was a confused chaos filled with a roller coaster of emotions. When I asked God to show me light, He gave it in the form of this white fluffy ball of light, whose sweetness know no bounds (no really, his licks never ends- it’s literally a slobbery mess:) And in the end, my dream for a child came true with him- because our dog became more than a pet. He was, is, and always will be, family.

 

 

 

 


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The Child I Lost

blogbaby

“There is not a single day that goes by that I didn’t think of the child I lost.”-Dr.K, This Is Us

Those words bring me back in time. It was not too long ago that my heart was ripped in shreds. My lifelong dream crushed. My soul felt anger, grief, and numbness all in one very confusing despair. And at that moment, my life stood still and my heart stopped beating. My whole being was frozen in the cold harsh reality of losing a child I have dreamed of all my life.

                           ~~~~~~ § ~~~~~~

Ever since I was a kid, I always liked to play with dolls. Baby dolls. I am the eldest child, and I like to baby my younger siblings growing up (sorry guys!) In fact, I credit myself for my mom getting pregnant with my youngest sib-  I prayed really hard for a sister! So it was a foregone conclusion that kids are a definite part of my future. I didn’t want them right away, but I know I want them soon. What I didn’t know was that it was going to take me longer to get them. And that it was not going to be without pain. A lot of pain.

The first time I got pregnant I was ecstatic. I felt the morning sickness and knew right
away that that was it! My husband was no less, if not more, excited than me. When I casually asked him to bring me some stuff from the pharmacy- including the pregnancy test- his reaction (shock) was priceless! It was one of the happiest moment of our lives.

Then one day it happened. Twelve short weeks later, two days after I made the surprise baby announcement to friends, I felt it. I saw it. My gut instinct was telling me something was wrong. My brain was trying to deny the possibility. It took all my courage to pick up the phone and call my doctor to see me that day. And the moment she turned the monitor away from me, I knew that my happy moment has turned into my worst.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” My doctor kept saying those words. I looked at her like she was talking crazy- I don’t think it’s my fault! Why would you keep telling me that?! Maybe her other patients are weak, but not me. I’ll be fine. Or so I thought. It took me a good few weeks to feel the loss. And when I did, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. I have visions of my baby’s strong heartbeat stopping – this kept replaying in my mind and I thought I was gonna lose it. My husband was supportive, but it was my body, it was my vessel that lost our child. I then realize what my doctor was trying to tell me. I did blame myself for the loss. And even though I didn’t believe it at that time, it was not my fault.

It was not an easy journey back from my loss. I wish I could say that realizing I’m not to blame made everything ok, but that’s not how it went. My head was filled with unanswerable questions, my heart was aching with inconsolable sadness. Feelings of indignation and despair would overwhelm me at times, even as a sliver of hope was starting to break through the darkness. It was a long battle back into the light, but over time, simple joys and a renewed faith allowed me to regain my laughter and love of life.

~~~~~~ § ~~~~~~

This is my story. This is my truth. It is my hope that in writing this, I can reach out to those of you who have experienced this loss. For you to know that it’s ok to mourn. For you to know that it is not your fault. For you to know that you are not alone. To seek help when you need them. And to know that in the midst of despair, grace is possible, and life will reappear, however long that takes.