Isn’t it Ironic?


Isn’t it Ironic?

I, the worrier.

The girl who cried repeatedly in high school, worried that my (then) boyfriend would eventually move away, because we were going to get married of course, and I didn’t want to move away from my parents.

The girl who worried her brother would get sick.

Who worried about her parents dying.
(And not because they were ill, because thank God they weren’t.)

The girl who worried that her future, unborn, not yet conceived! children would grow up, find someone, then forget about her.

I worried, have worried, and I continue to worry about a lot of things.

But the one thing I’m not worried about. . .

The one thing I feel so sure of it brings me peace knowing I’ve made the right decision. . .
(And let me tell you, peace to a worrier is a big deal and hard to come by.)

That one thing. . .

Is what worries you.

And it tears us apart.

And now I have a new thing to be worried about.

How Bittersweet: A Heart Full of Love & Fear, Gratitude & Longing

I started writing this post on January 7, 2019 but didn’t finish it until now.

I was running an errand today with my four year old daughter, Lia. As I was driving she asked “Mami, why did you want to become a mami?” And before I could even answer, she says “Because you wanted to have a baaaaby? And have a family?” A smile came across my face. I reached back to touch her leg and she squealed with laughter. My heart was full. Thinking how blessed I am to have what I dreamed of – a family of my own, one son, one girl – I felt so deeply grateful it almost took my breath away…


But then came the unthinkable thought – will I one day be looking back at this moment with a deep, painful yearning because my daughter had died? I shudder at the possibility. But it’s something I think about…


Because isn’t that the crux of it? With deep, pure love comes fear of losing whom you love. And with deep, pure love comes immeasurable pain when you experience such a loss.  As Anna Whiston-Donaldson said after losing her son Jack:

grieving is the price we pay


You see, when I was a freshman in college, while my parents were away in Cancun, I received a phone call from my aunt in Costa Rica telling me the unthinkable had happened for my aunt and uncle – their four year old daughter Marisol had drowned in a pool. I had to call my parents at the hotel and tell them every parent’s worst nightmare. They immediately decided to catch the next flight back home so mom could then take a flight out to Costa Rica to be with the family.  I begged to go with her but they didn’t let me. Perhaps they were trying to shelter me from what we would have to encounter. I regret not going, even though the decision was out of my hands. The regret stems from the reality that as heartbreaking as it was, for me, staying home did shield me from the grief and suffering my family was experiencing and I felt really guilty about that. But even if I had gone, now that I’m a mother myself, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have registered or cut as deep as it does now. Because even though it’s been more than eighteen years since she’s gone, having kids really puts it in perspective because one can imagine one’s very own child being the one who passed.

I remember the day of my son’s fourth birthday party when it hit me the most – Marisol was four when she died. My son was four. It would be like him leaving now.


After the unthinkable thought, my mind stayed in a dark place, but not as grim. It went to how it was incredibly ironic and frustrating that what had made my dreams come true – being able to create life and bring new little humans into this world – is also what precipitated my biggest health struggle of my life – depression – something that drains the life right out of you. It’s the antithesis of feeling alive.

Obviously I wouldn’t give up my kids for anything. I’m still eternally grateful. And I’m well aware that there are much, much worse things that could happen. But we all have our struggles, right? And I don’t think keeping it in helps. So what has motherhood surprised you with? Good or bad?

When the Words Get Lost

I speak but you don’t hear me
You hear what I didn’t say
Or the words get lost because your heart is hardened
Walls surround you and my words don’t get through
Your words come at me on the attack,
defensive, ready to strike
They pierce through mine and my heart,
giving my words no chance to pierce yours
Your heart
Or perhaps my words get lost because they never leave my lips
Getting stuck in my throat and in my mind
They don’t let me sleep and yet you are unwavered,
ignorant to their existence

But one thing is true, one thing I know
God hears everything, sees everything
So my words may get lost in me,
to you
But God finds them
He hears me
He hears my plea and my cry
He holds them dear to His sacred heart
and they pierce Him, like the sword pierced His side
And now I must wait to hear His words
For they dare not get lost
His words are life
My salvation. My hope. My comfort.
Speak to me oh Lord, for your servant is desperately trying to listen