Two Weeks

Oh my, my, my

ive been a mommy for two full weeks... 

I can't even wrap my head around it.  



There is this strange feeling of things being intensely real-- so real that it feels like a dream.

It's almost like I've been handed a mixed drink, with strong hits of hards--but instead of gin and rum,  it's a mix of sleep deprivation, love, fear, anxiety, and happiness.

my soul is drunk, almost hung over, on these emotions. 

and yet, this is reality. 

this is not a poetic fiction I've made up with words. No, there is a real living, breathing human being in my life--and it's all so wonderful and scary at the same time. 

love has never been so powerful. My heart has expanded to match the endlessness of the night time sky. And in my horizon is Dean and Yume, my sun and moon if you will--and my family and friends twinkle in the sky around me at all times of the day. Whether I see them or not, I know they are there. 

its amazing.  


The birthing experience was  the first crescendo of this kind of symphonic journey to motherhood.

--And when asked, why I chose to do the birth natural (no epidural) 

i couldn't formulate a clear answer--there were too many reasons for me to give just a definitive answer... 

but after two weeks time of analyzing my thoughts Over and over again, I know why: 

for several clear reasons really--and let me preface my response with this, this is my truth--and mine alone. It is in absolutely no reflection on how I feel about other people's birthing experience. I do not pass judgement on those who have had medicated births, nor do I feel I have one-upped anyone with my experience. This is all me...

so now, to my reasons:

the first, of course, was because I didn't want it to be easy. I didn't want to take this huge moment in my life for granted. I wanted to feel every single part of it. I've asked myself over and over again before and after giving birth,  "How many times in life do you really get the opportunity to FEEL something?"

when you first fall in love, you feel it in every hair on your body. Every blood vessel tingles with the pulse of another persons. your body feels magnetic and electrified--and that feeling is what causes the chain reaction of the rest of your life to start moving along...

The same goes for when someone you love passes, you feel the exact same sensation, but instead of the tingles of love and happiness, you feel it with pangs of sadness. You feel the pain everywhere--Inhaling, exhaling...everything hurts... 

So, with that said, i wanted to feel this birth throughout my entire body. This transition from one reality to the next. I wanted to feel it--and feel it, I did.  I breathed through every contraction with my eyes closed and barely made a sound until I had to push. That's when i vocalized the physically intense pain...

there were definitely moments when I wanted to say "ok, hold up, I've changed my mind..give me the drugs. I can't do it anymore..."

but, I would always be faced with this wall of "you made your decision, now just do it winnie..." 

so I did. No requests to stop. No requests for pain relievers. 


In the last and final stretch of pushing--when I thought I might actually die from the pain..., I thought of Ensō.

I thought about how after he passed, I would repeat to myself as a mantra "your mommy is not a loser" everyday.

Enso tried so hard every single day of his short life, and from watching that I decided that every single day, I would try hard with mine.

After Ensō passed, As I worked at my job, or drove to and from appointments, while I sat in long ridiculous meetings at work, I repeated to myself, Ensō, your mommy's not a loser"--and even though the place I worked at times seemed like a joke, my work was not. Not one person from my department can say that I didn't work hard, and from the moment I left that job, I know--with confidence--that pieces of it crumbled without my presence. Because I'm not a loser, but people will lose without me.

So when Dean was saying "come on winnie, just a little more--push, push" I repeated internally, "Ensō, your mommy's not a loser" and I pushed , and pushed with all my might--it was like White pain. The lights from the birthing room and the lights from all of the pressure...white light everywhere 

and then came Yume.  

My dream. My reality. 


Its been quite a two weeks... 

and im not going to over glamourize it. It has been really hard. I have had crying spells, and have felt frustration so deep that it has made me question everything, including this journey.

There are moments when I miss Dean so much while he's sitting right next to me. Our life has turned over completely and sometimes it feels like we're strangers who knew each other from some other time... sleep deprivation mixed with non-stop  "on-the-job" training will turn even the most familiar things into something you're constantly being re-introduced to like it's the first time around.

i see him like he's a new person, because he is a new person--in the same way he sees me as a new person. We are no longer just lovers, we are parents. a whole new dimension of ourselves is in each other's face. I can see his coping skills, and I hope, he can see mine.

Its crazy. 

and yet, we are not strangers. There are tiny moments in the day when we look at each other and smile, and I see him and he sees me--and we're back on the same page, same chapter, same book.  

There are also times when trying to decipher the meaning of Yume's cries drives me to near insanity. I'm so uptight, and unsure...and don't have the answers, and don't know what to do...but I feel that I should. i sleep at like 9:00pm now because I'm exhausted. Not from just waking up every 3 hours for feedings, but because I am just emotionally and mentally drained. I used to hate people who response to everything is "I don't know"... but I find myself saying "I don't know" all day long. 

But then there is this  




When Yume falls asleep in my arms, and I can see the trust in her face. She believes in me, and is able to completely fall asleep with contentment in her little body. And that is enough of a pat on the shoulder for me, and the best words of encouragement for me to keep pushing through.


my mom, whoes hero status has steadily risen during my entire pregnancy, and now is at stellar heights during my first weeks of motherhood, offered me some really good advice about parenting.  

She said "nothing about being a parent is easy, winnie. if you find that something works out well and is easy, good for you--maybe that time you were lucky, but for the most part, everything is difficult. Look at it as a challenge, and try hard. But if you are expecting things to be easy, you will find yourself always upset and crying. Prepare yourself!"

 --best advice ever. You know, if I could even be an 1/8 like my mom for Yume, she will be a lucky child. I cannot even begin to give enough praise to my mom...I see her greatness so much more now than ever before. It's sad that it's taken motherhood for me to be able to truly thank my mom for being incredible--but, better late than never, I suppose. Haha


Anyway, Right now it's 5am, I have  been sitting with my electronic breast pump for the past 30 mins, the rhythmic "eee-ahh"'sound from each pump is kind of like a mechanical lullaby. 

So goodnight moon. 

mama is tired. 




What's it all About, Winnie? A little insight into the madness...

She's the Lady with all the Lines...

Sometimes I feel a little lost in my life. Like, I don't know where I am going, or which direction to turn. I kinda go through that a little every year, but this year, that feeling greeted me like the morning sun. I was a daily thing. For instance, I always kinda feel like I'm going somewhere, but I don' t know if it's forward, backward, or if I'm trapped in the illusion of movement, because it's actually the world moving around me while I"m just standing still. I can't tell anymore.

A lot has happened to me. I don't want to go through the laundry list of events that shaped and molded this year into what it is...but a lot has happened. Most of it was heavy and emotional. Imagine wearing heavy denim jeans and dragging your legs through waist-deep mud... heavy heavy things. I thought I was going to drown in the mud because I kept falling face-forward into the thick, thick mud...

But, somehow, I've found a way out of it, and I made it out--still dirty, but alive. Maybe that's the miracle? I don't know. If you've been following this blog (or any of my blogs) you might've noticed that this blog has turned into something like like Madonna's Blonde Ambition Tour... I'm so gung-ho that it's almost starting to seem fake. It's not. I'm really trying.

You can't survive through months and months of waist deep mud because you just stood still--you have to try, and that's what I've been doing. So...I guess, I am moving in a direction, but where...where....where am I going?

Maybe finding my direction will be easier if I explain why I've been trying so hard...

I was pregnant this year, and I lost the baby. my baby. he passed away, didn't make it. I delivered early and although Enso (my son) was a strong, strong baby, the universe (or whatever) just didn't feel like the world was ready for him. or whatever. I can't verbalize it nicely yet, because I don't feel nicely about it yet...

But, that has been my motivator. I'm trying like a mad-woman to turn into something because I don't want to be a loser. My Enso was so very special, and I just want to be as special as he was. He wasn't a loser, so his mom can't be one either... (sigh)

You know, once you've lost something so so so big in your life, it's hard to not feel like the biggest loser on the planet. Friends and family keep telling me--over and over again, "you're not a loser, you did everything you could, don't blame yourself" but honestly, those are just words.

sooooo....I feel like I need results so that I can validate myself again, and that's why I'm pushing myself so hard. Most of the time, it doesn't even matter what direction I'm pushing, I just want to keep moving. moving so that I don't have to stand still and think about what I've lost. the pain is too deep, too much for me to walk through, heavier than the mud because it's no longer wet's drying into hard, hard mud. If I dont' keep pushing and moving, i'll be stuck there in that pain forever...

But, on days like today I'm more concerned with where I"m going, verses why. Maybe that's a sign of recovery? Maybe one layer of the deepest cut is starting to heal just a little? I don't know... All I hope is that I'm getting somewhere.
I hope that this artwork and the dedication and time put into it will pay off, that it'll mean something more than just a band-aid that I've wrapped myself in.

Someone recently said that they see my passion in my art by just looking at my drawings, they can see and feel it. that made me happy.

I want my drawings to be a window into what's going on, and each line in every single illustration is  like a tick on the wall of someone who is in jail, it's the line of hope saying "I've been through this much for this long, but it won't be long..."
And I believe that, it won't be long....

That's all for today folks,

love you all, always.