Reflection

One year ago right now, I was having contractions. I had had "false alarm" one week earlier, during which I had regular contractions, but was not dilated. So, one year ago today, I figured it was another false alarm. Kinnie was not due for another two weeks, and I was scheduled for a c-section in a week. Only, these contractions caused pain different from those I had experienced previously. I called my mom, who offered to come down. But, I figured it couldn't be the real thing, so I told her to wait. I tried all the things I had heard of to slow them down. I walked. I lay down. I took bath. But they didn't slow. We called the doctor's office, and were advised that we ought to come in to be checked.

I went back to my bed to lay down and breath, and something hit me. I got overwhelmed, scared. I called my mom and asked her to come.

Within 4 hours, Kinnie had arrived. I still vividly remember the first moment I touched her, the softness of her cheek on mine. I remember the immediate experience of a love I had never felt before.

A lot of people comment that they can't believe it has been a year. And sometimes, I can't either. But there are moments when it feels as though it has been forever. It is as if my life before Kinnie was a completely different lifetime.

I have learned so much in the past year. Humility because I don't have control over when my baby may be fussy or sleepy or wanting to stay up late. Acceptance because I had to deal with the humility. Pure, uninhibited love. Joy. Pride. Amazement. And did I mention love? Most of all, gratitude. Every day is different. Every day is an adventure. And for every moment, I am so grateful. I am blessed to have this life, this baby. Happy Birthday to Kinnie Lin. Here's to an amazing second year, and many, many years to come.

Cambio

Cambio is Spanish for "change." One year ago today, we left Guadalajara. The changes in our lives since that day have been immense.

I awakened this morning trying to make sense of what my experience in Mexico means to me. I want other people to know how much a part of me that experience is, how much it meant to me, how much I loved it. But I don't know what to compare it to.

Moving to Guadalajara was a victory, because we challenged ourselves and found that we made it through. It was humbling, because we had to face our lack of knowledge of a culture and language, and ask for a lot of help. It was exciting, because we took risks and adventured in a way we had never imagined. It was stressful, because we were so far away from our family and friends.

I think, most of all, it was lovely. Lovely in the most beautiful, passionate sense. The culture, the community, the people, the food, the scenery, our students...

I still so clearly remember our little house, and lying in bed in the mornings and seeing our orange tree out the back window. I remember walking Koda and Fifi through the neighborhood, and greeting all our neighbors. I remember lugging our laundry around the block in trash bags to the laundromat. I remember sharing Pizza y Come with our friends. I remember the traffic on Lopez Mateos. I remember driving by a billboard for half a year before figuring out what it meant, and then feeling so proud that I finally did. I remember the feeling of my classroom early in the morning, watching the sun rise before my students came in. I remember the taste of Juan Carlos' tacos dorados, and Hector's tortas ahogadas.

It is not as if I regret or resent the changes in my life. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love being a Mama, and how I love being close to my family and friends. But I think this longing in my heart will always be there...