Saturday, July 10, 2010

A letter to my 15-year-old self

Yeah, this islander wants to get on it too. After reading so many beautiful posts of some of the most influential birth women on the web, for the heck of it, I wanted to join in.

Then I thought.. 'Wait.. I'm only 21..what the heck am I gonna title this post as? "A letter to my fetus self"?!'

So here it goes;







Dear 15-year-old Wendy,




Where do I begin..You sad little confused child, where do I begin to council you?!

First of all, You're not fat. Fat is what you will be in 6 years from now after you have a kid. YES. You had a kid two and a half years ago. A little girl. Please, sit down, I know that news was a big blow because you're saying in your mind right now that you vowed never to have kids. ever. Well... you did


Moving on...

You know how you're making plans on going to Holland to study for tolk? Well, it ain't working. As a matter of fact, you're not even going near that career choice. I'll tell you what you're up to now, shortly.

You're still wondering how you got that kid right? It's bothering you, I can already see the look on your face. Well, you fell in love ( very young), got pregnant (too young) and then got duped. You were even a single mom for a time. It was a pretty rough time, but you know what? You got through it kickin'. You raised the child by yourself. Gave birth vaginally (Yes, you use those words now as easy as laptops) without a hitch and fully breastfed your daughter, Dahlia, for over a year. You also worked full time.

As a matter of fact, you cherished your breastfeeding relationship so much that you became a certified childbirth educator in training, and you are on the board of a one-and-only non-profit breastfeeding organization in Aruba. Wait. It gets better. You even own a business (GASP!). You named it CariBirth for Caribbean Birth. You give breastfeeding classes, prenatal belly dancing, babywearing classes and even give lectures. You are the person that women call nearly in tears and desperation for help because their nipples are cracked and bleeding, or because their baby won't latch on due to nipple preference. You spend hours by them and sometimes even reach home at 11 at night. And guess what, you do it for free. You're a volunteer breastfeeding counselor and lactation consultant in training. You have seen more breasts than Daddy Yankee. Yes, you have become that woman. A mother.

A little word of advice, the whole band thing, it's not gonna work out. You'll play a few gigs, but it ain't going no where. Those gage zero holes in your ears? Yep, they're gone too. Now you have the cutest hanging ear lobes. Thanks.

In the few years that elapsed since you got knocked up, you met and married your wonderful co-worker. You'll meet him for the first time in a year from now. But don't worry, you'll marry when you're 20. He loves your kid and even raised her with you. He's a real good dad, not like that dufus you fell for.

Try and focus on molding your attitude for the better, and don't look away when women are breastfeeding, it's gonna be your income in the years to come. Oh, and that sad life you envisioned for yourself? Bah, you're not on meds anymore. I know it's very hard to believe but, the kid you breastfed? Well... she changed everything. Literally everything. You don't even remember the sadness you used to live in. Who would have thought, eh?

Oh and, one last thing. Your parents didn't kill you. I'm sure they wanted to at first but, after you gave birth to that bundle of joy, they wouldn't have it any other way. They even audaciously ask you to allow them to adopt her.

Waiting on a speedy reply,

Warmly,

-Wendy-

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