Powerlessness in parenting

 Dear readers 

Raising a second child has, unfortunately, made me realise how badly I’ve raised the first. Anyone else feel this way? “Practice child” they sometimes refer to the first child as — “practice.” 

I was on the phone with someone dear to me recently, having breakfast, or lunch (or brunch). Just vibing. Amongst the chatter, I suddenly hear, “Eliza, isn’t baby crying overstimulating for you? Doesn’t it bother you?” 

In this moment, I was eating and baby crying was more background noise from the nursery. I was kinda hoping he would self-soothe. That said, I have never heard a louder baby cry than this little guy right here — as I write this he is nursing. Power to parents who can multitask! 

This guys cries SO loudly. He was preterm baby but I swear he was born with a third lung or something because how can something so small produce such a LOUD noise? 

But the good thing about my second born is that he is so easy to settle. My first born was not. Allow me to share you a journal entry I wrote four years ago. (Note this baby is 4-5 months old in this journal entry.) 

~*~

~ July 2021

I’m so angry and snappy and irritated — and I always voice these irritations. 

Maybe it’s a defence mechanism. Because I know what it’s like to feel powerless. 

And when Ada cries it’s because she’s powerless. She’s powerless of speech, powerless of controlling her hands, she’s only just learnt weeks ago that she CAN control her hands. She’s powerless of the ability to feed herself. Of even putting her self to sleep. 

But when Ada cries, she’s communicating to me that she’s POWERLESS and she NEEDS me to help her. 

So I hold her. Even if it’s inconvenient and I’m trying to shop around and there’s. a. pram. I pick her up. 

Even if I’m in the middle of cooking or hanging the washing or vaccuming. I hold her with one arm on my hip and hope that as she grows bigger, my muscles will too, lol.

And in the car when she’s crying, I’ve even gone as far to pull over once or twice to make sure she’s okay. 

Otherwise, I talk to her. I tell her I love her. The best thing I could do if I can’t stop driving is to keep on assuring her that I love her, that I’m here for her, that I know she’s upset, that I want to hold her but I can’t right now. 

Sometimes, Mummy is powerless too. 

Sometimes Mummy is so powerless that she’s crying and crying and tired and hungry and if I only stopped to listen, stopped to kneel, stopped to pray… 

Maybe I would hear my Heavenly Mother telling me that I am loved, I am heard, and no one is around to hold me right now but I am never alone. 

~*~

About here I will now disclose that I have been diagnosed with post-natal depression. I’m so afraid to share this part of me but I also feel like we need to talk more openly about this. 

Guys, my post-natal depression was really bad. Sure it was during “Covid-times” and in 2021 there were at least two lockdowns that I can recall, meaning we weren’t allowed to leave the house and people were being fined for going out without purpose or without a mask. But that aside, I struggled so much with adjusting to be a parent. I mentally checked out for two hours sometimes while Ada just cried and cried and cried, just waiting for someone else to come and pick her up. 

I had someone who would come and try to help but this person required me to do things for them. So one day this person came to help (thank God! Or so I thought) and I went to my room and locked my door just trying to decrease the pressure rising up in my throat and building behind my eyes. It was all I could do to just literally hide under the covers of my bed and wish for the world to stop spinning. I felt hopeless and I needed everything to stop. After multiple unsuccessful attempts to order me to do things for them from behind the door, my support person managed to secure the still-crying baby in the bouncer, and left my house. This person literally never came back to my house ever again to mind my baby.

It doesn’t matter what I was supposed to be doing or if I was being … ungrateful. The point of this story is to give you insight into my post natal depression. How bad it was. I’m talking suicidal ideation, years of therapy, years of medications... Family nurses and community nurses raising red flags in their notes because maybe, just maybe —this was never outright confirmed to me— the baby was in danger of me. 

(Hello, Tresilian. Iykyk.)

Oh Eliza from four years ago. I do not envy you. 

My husband and I both agree that I am doing much better this time around. 

Yes baby crying is super overstimulating. But the baby is the real person who is powerless. 

When I first had the second baby, I found it sooooo difficult to navigate my relationship with Ada. I was in pain all the time, sleep deprived and always thirsty. I couldn’t sleep when I needed to, and wanted to sleep when I needed to be awake. I love her so much but the problem was I wasn’t looking after myself and I certainly wasn’t paying attention to my own feelings and emotions. It was like a flood gate that was filled to the brim and kept gushing through every time Ada came bouncing around. 

When I check in with my own emotions, I do do better though. 

I wonder what Powerful Parenting looks like? 

I suppose Powerful Parenting is literally any type of parenting. Because our parenting will always have a lasting impression on the child. 

It’s just up to us to make the impact good or bad. 

A lot of people ask me, “how is Ada doing with the little one?” 

And I often joke, “wonderful! She’s like a second mum.” 

Because she literally copies everything I do. (Except nap times darn it). 

So when my children don’t meet my expectations in life, they are watching my response. And in time, they will mimic my response to their family and friends and to each other. 

And that is it from me this week! 

So what’s your take on parenting? What literature or scripture forms your style of parenting? Books? Podcasts? 

Im your sponge, fill me up and I will happily squeeze out more revelations as I continue this blogging journey. 

Written with love,

Eliza. 

P.s. Shout out to my support person who has since been my number one cheerleader so to speak and our relationship is in a much better place. Life is a game and sometimes we’re thrown learning curves. I’m grateful for each moment. 

Fire of my soul

 Dear readers

It’s as if the universe is trying to teach me something about repentance. Im currently writing this, with a 4 month old baby asleep against my chest, while listening to the small, inner voice. What are you trying to tell me? What do I need to learn? 

Repentance is a crucial aspect of the doctrine of Christ. It is, in a way, the very purpose of life since repentance grants us entrance to one day reside in the highest of glories. 

Ask Past Eliza what she thought repentance is and her word bank may have been: 

Acknowledge / recognition

Be sorry / remorse / godly sorry 

Confess and forsake 

Restitution / make things right 

And then various other synonyms. 

Ask the Present Eliza what repentance means and I say:

Transformation.

Change. Change of Heart.

A cleansing of the soul. 

Inspired by a recent family home evening, I spent some time privately studying these words:

3 Nephi 12:1-2“Blessed are ye if ye shall give heed unto the words of these twelve whom I have chosen from among you to minister unto you, and to be your servants; and unto them I have given power that they may baptize you with water; and after that ye are baptized with water, behold, I will baptize you with fire and with the Holy Ghost; therefore blessed are ye if ye shall believe in me and be baptized, after that ye have seen me and know that I am.

Yea, blessed are they who shall believe in your words⁠, and come down into the depths of humility and be baptized, for they shall be visited with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and shall receive a remission of their sins.”

This is so great because when we are baptised, we are cleansed symbollically with water. And the second part of baptism that completes the ordinance is the baptism of fire! That is, the cleansing power and companionship of the Holy Ghost. This is a continuous cleanse that is enabled every week when we partake of the sacrament at Church and renew our covenants with God.

And in the guide to the scripture, “fire”—

A symbol for cleansing, purifying, or sanctifying. Fire can also serve as a symbol of God’s presence. 

To think that something so destructive has such beautiful powers of creation.

There’s a fantasy book series that has become my favourite. In it, an orphaned young apprentice witch sets out to make her mark in the world. She meets a prince (the prince is in disguise) and saved his life but in doing so she is captured and tortured. Her world is instantly shattered and besides growing up without any knowledge of who her parents may be, she now has unparalleled trauma that continues to shape her. 

She also discovers that she has a twin sister and is delighted. She loves her sister as her own flesh and blood. But she also discovers that her twin sister has married the prince-in-disguise because they fell in love in her absence. 

It is a harsh reality to live with. Meanwhile, upon discovering their ancestry, her twin sister learns how to fly. Stuff of legends, even in this story. All the while our witchling protagonist fails to pass The Test to become earn her title as a fully empowered witch. 

It would seem her twin sister has all the blessings. If they were trees, our protagonist would be bare and without any fruit, and her sister would be flourishing. 

Sometimes I do believe life can be just like that. Life is so unfair, it is one of the prerogatives of living on earth - nothing about our circumstances are perfectly fair no matter how hard we work to make it so. 

Spirit, dear spirit, why am I reminded of Isabeau’s story? Why does her pain resonate with me? 

Let me share something that’s been on my mind.

It occurs to me that I may be a completely different person than I was ten years ago. I was so young and naive and (hang on, I still am) I believed in a world that was black and white. Every single Thing had an Answer. Every single Scenario had a Right or Wrong response. I lived in such a tiny bubble and if you did not adhere to my principles then we possibly did not get along. And I am so sorry for that. My so-called principles which I thought were so righteous completely lacked any heart. Although technically correct, they were intrinsically wrong because none of it was motivated by my love for others. It was all motivated by what people thought of me — or even more dangerous — what I believed people ought to think of me. (Im sure there’s a great many self-help literature you may recommend to me and I’m open to it.) 

 So what’s changed? I guess you could say my refiner’s fire.

Going through my own life-threatening trauma because of medical emergencies had shattered that bubble so completely and so rapidly that it was like I did not know how to breathe anymore. I drowned in uncertainty in my disposition in life, apprehension, fear of the future and also I will confess: a deep depression that I still struggle with sometimes to this day. 

My refiners fire erased the person I was. And through it emerged the person I am now - the person that I still constantly try to cleanse through daily repentance. Deconstructing to build back up. Withering away to start anew. Burning the old to allow new growth. 

Repentance is change. It is a process of change. I’ve known this for a long time but tonight, as I write, I can feel this truth settle inside my soul. 

Change is scary and life can seem unfair. 

But change is also Good and life can be Beautiful. 

Isabeau’s powers eventually manifested in the most powerful of ways. Her strength in fire magic meant that she was sometimes irrational and compulsive. Her teacher and carer was a woodland witch who spoke the tongue of every animal in the forest. And so, Isabeau the Foundling became Isabeau the Shapeshifter. She had the ability to transform into any animal she can conceive of. Her talents in fire magic and her intrinsic understanding of its powers allowed her to tap into her greatest potential - the power to shapeshift at will. 

She learnt how to fly, I guess like her twin sister after all. 

And with this gift, she goes on to become a heroine that is Unstoppable.

My mission President once told me that I was like a gift. I just needed to keep on going and working and serving and one day the gift now would eventually unravel and I would be so pleased with the Person I Become. 

I am so grateful for that encouragement. I am so happy with my life right now (even though I wrestle with the catastrophic fear of it being taken away.) But I am so happy and I am so grateful that God is good.

I have gone through some soul-wrenching fiery trials. Some might agree just finishing a University is one of these trials, lol. And I have come through the other end of it, and if you have too - then yay. 

I know I’m not the only person in the world to go through such trials. We all have our own journeys. Even Isabeau’s twin sister, Iseult experienced heart break when she lost one of her children to childbirth. 

Whatever we are going through, please know that this isn’t the end. Each and every one of is the main character in our stories. We have the power the change. Change ourselves, change our circumstances, change our perspectives. And the power to repent allows us the companionship of the Holy Ghost— the best kind of companion we’d want on any quest life throws at us. 

May my heart be kind 

May my mind be fierce 

May my spirit be brave.

- The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth 

And should we be diligent in our quest to remain worthy of the spirit, of that refiners fire, perhaps we will receive this blessing:

“…and a mighty change was also wrought in their hearts, and they humbled themselves and put their trust in the true and living God. And behold, they were faithful until the end; therefore they were saved.” Alma 5:13 

Have you ever gone through a drastic change? A personality makeover? Has something rattled your soul to the point of completing changing your heart? If so, can you think of how the spirit was with you at the time? I invite you to ponder so.

Written with love,

Eliza. 

P.s. baby now asleep in crib. 

The miracle of birth

Dear readers 

Not so long ago, I was sitting at the dinner table in my parents home listening to the word of God by two missionaries in my church. 

And in doing so, I came across two personal revelations that I have bravely decided to share here. 

They were teaching about the importance of focussing on the Lord Jesus Christ, even through all the distracting noise in the world. 

Here’s a game for the fam. 

The object of the game is to guess the number from 1 - 10, inviting us to look at the pens before making a guess. They placed 1 - 3 pens on the table and asked us to look at the pens and guess the number they had in their head. 

We had a riotous good time attempting to guess the number every time they put pens down. My mother even guessed correctly at least twice! But she still could not decipher the code. My dad was the first to get it. And boy, did he rub it in. This only motivated ME to get it. If my daddy can do it, then I certainly can. We are quite a competitive family. 

When I finally believed I understood the er, “code,” I was eager to test it out. I asked the elders to allow me to display the pens. Mum guessed correctly again. But she still didn’t understand why it was the correct answer. 

The truth is, the pens don’t matter. We place the pens down in special shapes or rows or “symbols” to distract the audience. The real answer lay on the table - in the form of how many fingers we placed on the table. As I said. My Dad was the first to understand this. He was then able to guess the number correctly each time. My mother only guessed correctly sometimes. In the end, my dad revealed the trick of it to her. What fun we had playing this game! 

This object lesson raised some questions 

- Why was it so difficult to get the answer right? 

Isn’t it because our focus was wrong? We needed to focus on the missionaries, not the pens. So when life seems to “go wrong” because we thought we had the answers - why did it go wrong? As a firm believer in Jesus Christ, I would say that the best way to “get it right” consistently would be to focus on the Saviour each and every time. 

There are so many people in the world who I believe get the answer right sometimes. They feel at peace, they feel happy, but this feeling never lasts and anxiety creeps in and they are left with soul searching questions that are never answered. Where did we come from? What is the purpose of life? These are questions that can be answered if one focusses on the teachings of Jesus Christ. 

Another question these missionaries asked us: 

- Can you think of an example in your life when focussing on the Saviour blessed your life? 

What is wonderful about this question is that it invites revelation. And I love it when the Spirit teaches me. I take questions very seriously. Questions are fuel for my soul. 

Initially, my mind goes to the hardest moment of my life. The loss the our first pregnancy. I’ve written about this multiple times on this platform, and this is not what this post is about. Yes, focussing on the Saviour at the time gave me strength, gave me courage.

But focussing on the Saviour in a more recent event also blessed my life. 

During my last semester in my university degree, we found out I was pregnant. This is a very difficult situation for me, as I have a history of losing pregnancies. The difficulty of this situation was amplified because it was unplanned, and I needed to focus on finishing my degree, which is very demanding and requires weeks of compulsory unpaid work placement. 

I was explaining to someone very close to me, that it was never a question of “whether or not” …

I would keep the baby. 

I would always keep the baby. More than that. I really wanted this baby. I already loved this baby - “bunch of cells” it may be. It was my child. 

Seeing this child on the ultrasound for the first time made me realise - this is a miracle baby. All of my viable pregnancies are miracles. All babies are miracles. What wondrous, unfathomable things our human bodies can endure and create.

However, as I was sharing to my confidante, there was a time when I felt I did not want the baby in my womb. 

My beloved Ada was my fourth pregnancy. After losing three, I inexplicably felt more comfortable with that trauma. It’s horrendous to admit. Another loss? Been there, done that. Giving birth and raising a child? A trauma and experience that frightened me. I was a tangled knot of anxiety. One thread — my anxiety of losing her. Another thread— about the delivery. Another thread— finances. Another thread —my ability to be a competent mother. Another thread —postponing my career aspirations. So. Much. Anxiety. But Ada’s story has come and gone and it seemed I triumphed. 

So then I was pregnant again in my last semester of studies.

The anxiety threatened to return. However, the miracle is that my mindset has changed since. (Therapy and medication, years of it). I wanted this baby. The world, in all its wisdoms, and distractions, and good advice and humanitarianisms … in every perspective that is financial, emotional, physical and even career-wise… May suggest abortion. 

But my mind never went there. My soul never wavered. I never thought, “wouldn’t it be easier if I weren’t pregnant? If I lost this baby, like the other ones?” At least, this time it didn’t. 

You might be wondering how I went through my last semester of studies. I’ll have you know, I didn’t do badly. I passed and I’ve graduated from Bachelor of Health Science Paramedicine. I have an induction date for later this year. I did it. And my pregnancy? 

Beautiful. Baby. Boy. We named him Archer. We love him so much. His sister adores him. It’s adorable how much she does love him. She says she wants to marry him. When I ask her to say goodnight to him, she says, "Goodnighhhht baby, have the bestest day ever!" and kisses him multiple times. More like smooches him.

And I am just so glad that my body was able to keep this one. I am so glad that my mind and soul and heart never despaired to the point of secretly wanting this one to go away. Even as I threw up my food in the back of an ambulance. Nope, still want the baby. Still love the baby. 

My first revelation? I could have aborted the baby. The world by all means would have supported it. Because I fell pregnant, I couldn't go to work straight away as planned. Another child was not in the cards, financially speaking. Another child was not in the Five Year Plan. Another child would put more strain on our already very busy and tiring lives.

There’s no way I would have let the baby go, even if given the choice. I loved my unborn child. LOVE my children.

My second revelation was that in order to focus on Jesus Christ -- I needed to let go of material desires I,e. money. We don't have a lot, my little family. But we have enough. We have what we need. I don't need to go out working all sorts of hours of the day and night for more money. What I need to do is focus on my motherhood duties. This sacred duty and these miraculous first months of my son's life is mine to treasure, not throw away to work and get more money. Don't get me wrong- if you're a woman that wants to work and study and have babies all at the same time, you do you. Women support women and I'm not here to tear you down. Reminder of a life-changing piece of wisdom I learnt from reading an autobiography of a certain First Lady (iykyk) "Women can do everything. But we cannot do everything at the same time." There is a time and season for everything. We shouldn't be running faster than we have strength. We are often expected to do everything at the same time, and I'm here to preach that you don't have to. Your worth and value does not correlate to being perfect.

I wrote a little poem about how I felt having baby instead of chasing my career straight after graduation.  He was only a few weeks old. 

Proud of me, too.

4th April 2025

He’s asleep against my chest; 

Tiny thing, my son. 

I should put him down and rest; 

Or go and get something done.  

I pick up my phone instead; 

Scrolling scrolling I go. 

Check my messages: unread 

I stare at a group photo. 

Study mates, cohort and friends;

Looking so good in blue; 

I am so proud of all of them; 

But I long to belong, it’s true. 

We studied and huddled and cried;

At the back of a van we rode. 

But my mind would be elsewhere--

I was carrying a different load. 

We made it through to graduation. 

Now they work and save lives. 

Though I raise the next generation; 

When will my moment arrive?

He’s awake and starts to cry;

Sh. Mummy’s here for you. 

When he settles and sighs, I realise; 

Hey, I’m proud of me, too.

So it's been a long while since I've written on this blogging platform. By the encouragement of family and friends, (and perhaps the tiny nagging of the Spirit), I'm going to attempt this again. A little word to my support network - all of this would not be possible without you.

If you read this, thank you so much. What are your thoughts on balancing career, studies, and being a parent? What are your thoughts on abortion? This is a safe platform, and I'm not here to judge you. But I think it's good to always open a discussion. What are your experiences of having a baby around a preschooler? 

Written with love, 

Eliza.

The Saviour's Heart

Dear readers

TEN years ago, I was a full-time missionary for my church - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I was assigned away from home, and served full-time teaching about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and serving absolutely anyone. All this without pay too! 

    At the beginning of my service, I wrote a poem. This poem was inspired by my studies of the atonement of Jesus Christ. If you don't know what that is, I can refer you to some beautiful people - your local missionaries - to tell you more. I'm a little shy to share, but BIG SIGH, okay, here goes...

The Saviour's Heart 

by Sister Eliza Magallanes January 2015

When I'm old and frail

And I don't know how to think 

How to talk, how to smile, 

How to eat, how to blink,

When the years have gone by

And I'm falling apart 

Will I still have the Saviour in my heart?

When I'm young and free

With eyes towards the stars

And I'm dreaming and I'm wishing

That I will go far,

When I'm tired to the bone,

And I'm falling apart

Will I still have the Saviour in my heart?

When I'm heartbroken and hurt

And cry and cry and cry

When I can't get back up

And strength leaves me to die,

When I'm desperate for peace

And I'm falling apart 

Will I still have the Saviour in my heart?

When the Saviour trembled 

Because of suffering and pain

When He was betrayed by a friend

And was taken and slain

When He suffered in body and spirit

And felt like falling apart

Was I not there there 

In the Saviour's heart?

---

Did you like this poem? If so, please let me know why, I'd love to hear. I have soooo many more poems that I've written over the years. Do you think I should post more of them? I'm so anxious about sharing my little secret talent, so I need all the encouragement I can get. 😶 

Daily miracles from this weekend

 Dear readers 

As I began my weekend, I had multiple goals in mind. 

1. Work evening shift Friday (16:00 - 00:30)

2. 8am 5km park fun 

3. Study for two hours prior to Sunday (exam prep for Tuesday).

4. Tidy house by Friday evening 

5. Work Saturday evening shift (15:00 - 22:30)

6. Rest when able / when needed. 

As my weekend progressed, I had more and more things to do on my to-do list. 

Here were some of my "spiritual" to do goals. 

1. Hug Ada whenever she needed a hug. 

2. Listen to the scriptures 

3. Memorise uplifting scripture 

It is now 1:29am Sunday morning, and I have an early morning later. 

I am writing to you with a really sore back, my shoulder are super stiff from that morning jog, my legs are dead weights, haha, and for some reason, I'm hungry right now. 

But my spirits are high. 

I was able to do everything on my to do lists, with the exception of memorising uplifting scripture--but I am optimistic because the day is young, haha. 

I was NOT able to do everything on my to do lists by myself. Lawrence essentially cleaned the house. My older sister went to the park fun with me. Ada came too (after I worked the previous night, she was very reluctant to let me leave without her when I woke up early morning), and my Dad minded her while we jogged our lives away... 

I want to emphasise that I am NOT super woman, and neither am I boasting about how well I am doing, because there is so much more improvement I have yet to achieve and will probably never achieve in this life. 

I want to emphasise that there IS a certain super power in my life, and that is the eternal and perfect love that Heavenly Father has for me. Has for you, too! Although not as often as I'd like, I do try my best to regularly check in and pray to our loving Heavenly Father and ask Him to bless me in my endeavours for the day. I go about my day prayerfully and when I am prompted to do a certain thing, I do it. Even if I am tired. Even if it is socially weird, because I can be a massive awkward weirdo. Even if it isn't on my to-do list. 

Or it may be on my to-do list but not at the time I planned! I certainly didn't plan on taking Ada with me to the park run, but we has a blast in the car together, and she got to choose a little snacky-snack at the fuel station when I filled the car up before heading home. (Fuel was another thing on my ever-growing to do list). 

There's a concept of juggling between glass and non-glass balls. A person may be constantly juggling but sometimes, we have to priotise the glass balls and throw the other, less fragile, ball. If we drop it, thats fine. Our glass ball is safe. I always have this particular image in mind when I create my list of priorities. What are my glass balls today? What am I willing to let go today, if my other priorities take precedence? Usually, the answer to this last question is housework. Always housework. Particularly the massive mountain on laundry that forever needs putting away (not even gonna pretend I fold). 

I want to reiterate again that none of my achievements in whatever large or small capacity are possible without my Heavenly Father and His love and His help. Yes Lawrence cleaned the house, but who softened his heart so he would do so lovingly and really good? 

I needed to study today-- and who miracously blessed me with a quiet shift at work so that I could focus on my exam preparations for a little while? 

There was no way on earth that I would have ever gone out to that park run, if it were not for my older sister who came from OVERSEAS and told me that she would do this with me while she's here. On her husband's birthday, no less. (Happy birthday Michael we love you lots). 

So many little, or big, miracles. Coincidence? I think not. 

Tender mercies of the Lord? I think so. 

I'm gonna spend the rest of my day, the week, the year and my entire LIFE looking for these daily miracles. Hopefully, I'll follow that inspiration more and more to write about them. 

I'd love to update you about what I'm learning from the 40-Day Book of Mormon Reading Challenge that I am currently doing with my ward. 

In the meantime, I'm going to love you and leave you, and pray that reading this inspires you to recognise the daily miracles in your life, too. 

Written with love,

Eliza. 

Love are the moments

 Hello! 

Today is 6th December 2022 and it has been a LONG time since I've written in this blog. Today my therapeutic writing is about my motherhood journey thus far.

Let me tell you a secret. One of my greatest fears in life, ever since I was young enough to grasp an understanding of this fear ... is something that I most likely will never, ever experience on this earth. 

My secret is that my greatest fear in life ... used to be ... 

Childbirth. 

I was terrified at the prospect of undergoing labour pains. The first time that we found out we were pregnant, we were at the doctor's and the test came back positive on a urine test. 

And I completely burst out crying. I guess Lawrence nor the Doctor understood exactly why I was crying at the time, but it was definitely because I was terrified of the thought of having to push a baby out of me. 

And due to medical reasons, any viable pregnancies that I have will need to be delivered via c-section prematurely. So I should never have to experience even one contraction in my life, if I value my life.

Ahem, anyway. 

Now that I am a mother to Ada Love, my greatest fears are all about motherhood itself. I am afraid of not being good enough. I am afraid of messing up my daughter psychologically. I am afraid of my own anger getting the best of us and that the sound of my raised voice will leave psychological scarring that will distort her growth and happiness in the future. I am afraid of not being present enough. I am afraid she'll be a sad, lonely child. I am sooo afraid of failure. 

At the beginning of the blog, in 2020, I spoke of an interview I had with my mission president. He said that I was like a gift, wrapped up really nicely with a big massive bow. He said that it's going to take time for that bow to come off. But that when it finally does, he can't wait to see what gifts I have inside. 

It has been 8 years since that interview - and admittedly, I thought that I'd have the bow off by now. In other words, sometimes I find it hard to see my worth. I find everything about me to be so ... replaceable. 

But in the end, it is because I love Ada and my husband so, so much, that I could never imagine Ada growing up being raised by anyone other than me. Flaws and all, she has me because I want to be the one she loves.

Is it strange that I find self-validation in a little person who can't even talk yet? She's my little walking miracle, and she's the greatest gift that God has given me in my life so far. But she's extra special because I really can't keep this little girl all to myself. She is shared by everyone who knows her, is related to her, and loves her. Her father, her grandparents, her aunties and uncles, cousins, and my aunties and uncles and friends. 

She is such as good little girl who is utterly in love with me.  And her love for me pierces my soul and makes me brave enough to even love myself. To forgive myself. To work on myself and be easy on myself. I thought that I felt validated because of how much my husband loves me and the kindness he shows me every day. But Ada's adoration for me is unparalleled. 

I am her first word. I am her protector, provider, and best friend. I am her teacher, and her confidant. Without me, she might literally fall apart and the kind of power that I have scares me but also pleases me. Because nothing feels better to me than to feel so important and so irreplaceable to someone else. Having a child has truly been life-changing. 

And although women often lose themselves in motherhood, women often lose their self-identity, their bodies, their time, their hobbies and passions and interests all for the sake of another little being that relies on them to stay alive...

I, as a mother, have found myself. I have found myself to be important, to be strong, to be capable and smart. I have more confidence now than I have ever before in my entire life. I feel like the sensation of being confident is new because it is something that I have finally found.

I started writing a poem in the early days of my motherhood journey. I never quite finished it but will endeavour to provide you a complete version here. I wrote this poem progressively when I couldn't sleep at night. I have other poems too, and I'm sure I'll find the right time to share them. But for now, enjoy. 

Love are the moments. A poem on parenthood.

Love are the nights 

I don't want to leave bed

But I hear you cry 

So I hold you instead

Love is the moment 

You first looked at me 

In wonder and I wonder 

What you imagined me to be? 

Love was pregnancy days 

Kneeling was hard to do 

Yet I prayed for you

Already in love with you 

Love is the quiet

You fall asleep in my arms 

From crying and cranky 

To still and calm 

Love is tonight 

we're skin to skin 

A moment more intimate

Than I've ever been in 

Love is the colour blue 

beating down down down 

And my best isn't enough 

So your grandparents come around 

Love are the moments 

I learn the word sacrifice 

The need to meets your needs

No matter the cost or price 

Love is the moment 

I caught my reflection 

I couldn't look for long 

But your smile said I was perfection

Love is you

My miracle from on high 

My undeserved gift

Proof God doesn't lie

Love are the days

Filled with wonder and strife 

Love are the moments 

Motherhood changed my life. 

My motherhood journey has NOT been what I expected it to be. But it has definitely been a defining chapter in my life that has given me exponential character growth and grit. I have every hope and dream of still unravelling the gifts inside me, and every faith that one day, I'll be able to look back on these blog entries and marvel at how far I've come.

Written with love,

as always, 

Eliza.