Today was the day I finally had a drink. And I do mean an adult, alcoholic beverage. I had almost a full bottle of some not-so-cheap German white wine and I enjoyed every single drop. When I mentioned to my husband how good the wine was, he said, "Is it really good or are you just happy to be drinking again?" We both laughed. I figure both. I think the wine *is* good, and also I *do* miss drinking. The way I see it, it's a win-win for me. I hadn't had a drink in two years. Two years. TWO. YEARS. I don't consider myself an alcoholic, but OH MY GOD did I miss drinking. I don't even know if it has actually been two years, like 24 months. I was pregnant for 8 months and I breastfed exclusively for 7 months + 1 month nights. But it feels like an eternity. It feels like I hadn't had a drink since we were *planning* our first son 5 years ago. But that's completely irrelevant. I mean, how long I had actually gone without a drink is irrelevant right now. Because today is about ME reclaiming MY body.
And I know many people will disagree and criticize me - beginning with my husband. But hear me out.
When I became a mom 5 years ago - from the very first moment of conception 5 years ago - I gave everything up for my children's well-being. I gave it all up willingly and lovingly, but I still gave it all up. My degree, my career, some of my friends, my identity, my self-worth, self-confidence, self-everything. And if my children are one day old enough to be reading this, I want you to know I did this with love and do not regret a single instant and I do not regret giving it all up. You two are worth it and will continue to be worth it all. And for the people (women mostly, surely) who will question my having given it all up, because there are so many others before me who have been able to have it all, it was my choice and this is not what this is about. Also, I can't change the past and the choices I made so that's that.
Where was I before I felt the need to apologize and give unrequited explanations?
Drinking. Yes. Gosh I missed drinking. I also missed eating my steak medium-rare and being able to take medicine when I was sick, but that doesn't seem to be a big deal for society. Drinking, however, MAJOR TABOO. I also missed eating beans and bell peppers and drinking peppermint tea but who gives a crap about that. People give a crap about moms of babies drinking. I also missed coffee and spinach and tomato soup. But I'm not writing blogs about that, am I? Of all the things I gave up for my children's well-being, the only one that's problematic is alcohol. And that's why today I'm celebrating that I'm having a glass of wine. (Who am I kidding? The bottle is almost empty.) Because today I'm reclaiming my body as MINE.
I spoke to 3 pediatricians, 2 family practitioners, an orthopedist, 2 general surgeons, a gynecologist, a mid-wife, a doula and 4 of my favorite mom-friends and they ALL agree: have a glass of wine. Christoph is perfectly fine not breastfeeding anymore. Reclaim your body. Reclaim yourself. Drink that glass. (Or bottle.) And for the first glass, the feelings of guilt were so strong I almost did not enjoy it - but I do know the effects of alcohol in breast milk and therefore in babies and since my milk was already contaminated I might as well enjoy the contamination process. When I asked my husband, "I'm going to have a glass of wine. Would you like a beer?" he glared at me. Now, if you ask him he'll say he most definitely did NOT glare. But he did. Because he, like so many men, are not used to women reclaiming stuff. The best for his children is breast milk - which I am not debating. It IS best. But at 8 months, our fat and healthy second child will survive - nay, THRIVE even if he isn't exclusively breastfed anymore.
I'm trying to find myself again. Trying to rediscover who I am in the midst of all the additional identities I've acquired in the past 5 years.
I wonder how you would describe me. Would you say I am Natalya, the writer? Natalya, the poet? Natalya, the foreigner? Natalya from Colombia - South America not South Carolina? Natalya, Nini's sister? Natalya, Irene's daughter? Natalya, Alycia's granddaughter? Natalya, Gustavo's wife? Natalya, Rolfie's mom?
It's been so long since I've been Natalya, the writer, that I don't even know if I know her. Or if I even want to be her. I don't think I ever liked being Natalya, the poet (especially because in Spanish Natalya, la poetisa was both a condescending term and a female adjective). For half my life (literally) I've been a foreigner and I've loved that. But now, after 9 years in Germany, that term is just a technicality; because honestly, I'm more German than our German friends.
I went to vote in Hamburg earlier this year and the lady checking my ID card shrieked, "OMG ¡¿tu eres la hermana de Nini?!" It had always been Nini, Natalya's sister. But somewhere in the past 18 years abroad, the tables turned and my little sister became the main subject and I just an appendage to her existence.
When I walk around Kiel I still get the random question, "tu eres la esposa de Gustavo, ¿cierto?" Which is true. But am I not so much more than that?
Every Monday I go read in Rolfie's kindergarden, and every Monday I hear the same call: Rolfs Mama ist zum vorlesen da! I don't know that anyone knows my name there.
And that's all cool - I know all those people mean well. I know it's not personal or meant to be offensive.
But it's still usurping my identity.
...
Which is ironic because I don't know what my identity is. Or what it should be.
So as I drink this last glass of wine (because the bottle is empty), I try to reclaim whatever identity I have. Maybe I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer have ONE identity, but rather a mixture. Yes, I am Natalya, the foreigner; but I'm also Gustavo's wife and Rolf and Christoph's mom and Nini's sister and Irene's daughter and Alycia's granddaughter and maybe somewhere very deep within me I'm still Natalya the writer. All of those selves are still me. Because one evolves and grows and changes. And that's all good.
Today I had a glass/bottle of wine and took the first step towards finding me. Later tonight I will have some pre-hangover medicine and tomorrow morning I'll probably take a pill for the highly-likely headache and drink some strong coffee. Throughout the day I may have some peppermint tea and for lunch I'll order a medium-rare steak with a side of red bell peppers and beans. And my husband will be ok and my children will be ok and the world will continue to be ok.
But - most importantly - *I will be ok.*
Or so I hope.
One can hope, right?
Here's raising my glass to finding myself.
Cheers to me.
And I know many people will disagree and criticize me - beginning with my husband. But hear me out.
When I became a mom 5 years ago - from the very first moment of conception 5 years ago - I gave everything up for my children's well-being. I gave it all up willingly and lovingly, but I still gave it all up. My degree, my career, some of my friends, my identity, my self-worth, self-confidence, self-everything. And if my children are one day old enough to be reading this, I want you to know I did this with love and do not regret a single instant and I do not regret giving it all up. You two are worth it and will continue to be worth it all. And for the people (women mostly, surely) who will question my having given it all up, because there are so many others before me who have been able to have it all, it was my choice and this is not what this is about. Also, I can't change the past and the choices I made so that's that.
Where was I before I felt the need to apologize and give unrequited explanations?
Drinking. Yes. Gosh I missed drinking. I also missed eating my steak medium-rare and being able to take medicine when I was sick, but that doesn't seem to be a big deal for society. Drinking, however, MAJOR TABOO. I also missed eating beans and bell peppers and drinking peppermint tea but who gives a crap about that. People give a crap about moms of babies drinking. I also missed coffee and spinach and tomato soup. But I'm not writing blogs about that, am I? Of all the things I gave up for my children's well-being, the only one that's problematic is alcohol. And that's why today I'm celebrating that I'm having a glass of wine. (Who am I kidding? The bottle is almost empty.) Because today I'm reclaiming my body as MINE.
I spoke to 3 pediatricians, 2 family practitioners, an orthopedist, 2 general surgeons, a gynecologist, a mid-wife, a doula and 4 of my favorite mom-friends and they ALL agree: have a glass of wine. Christoph is perfectly fine not breastfeeding anymore. Reclaim your body. Reclaim yourself. Drink that glass. (Or bottle.) And for the first glass, the feelings of guilt were so strong I almost did not enjoy it - but I do know the effects of alcohol in breast milk and therefore in babies and since my milk was already contaminated I might as well enjoy the contamination process. When I asked my husband, "I'm going to have a glass of wine. Would you like a beer?" he glared at me. Now, if you ask him he'll say he most definitely did NOT glare. But he did. Because he, like so many men, are not used to women reclaiming stuff. The best for his children is breast milk - which I am not debating. It IS best. But at 8 months, our fat and healthy second child will survive - nay, THRIVE even if he isn't exclusively breastfed anymore.
I'm trying to find myself again. Trying to rediscover who I am in the midst of all the additional identities I've acquired in the past 5 years.
I wonder how you would describe me. Would you say I am Natalya, the writer? Natalya, the poet? Natalya, the foreigner? Natalya from Colombia - South America not South Carolina? Natalya, Nini's sister? Natalya, Irene's daughter? Natalya, Alycia's granddaughter? Natalya, Gustavo's wife? Natalya, Rolfie's mom?
It's been so long since I've been Natalya, the writer, that I don't even know if I know her. Or if I even want to be her. I don't think I ever liked being Natalya, the poet (especially because in Spanish Natalya, la poetisa was both a condescending term and a female adjective). For half my life (literally) I've been a foreigner and I've loved that. But now, after 9 years in Germany, that term is just a technicality; because honestly, I'm more German than our German friends.
I went to vote in Hamburg earlier this year and the lady checking my ID card shrieked, "OMG ¡¿tu eres la hermana de Nini?!" It had always been Nini, Natalya's sister. But somewhere in the past 18 years abroad, the tables turned and my little sister became the main subject and I just an appendage to her existence.
When I walk around Kiel I still get the random question, "tu eres la esposa de Gustavo, ¿cierto?" Which is true. But am I not so much more than that?
Every Monday I go read in Rolfie's kindergarden, and every Monday I hear the same call: Rolfs Mama ist zum vorlesen da! I don't know that anyone knows my name there.
And that's all cool - I know all those people mean well. I know it's not personal or meant to be offensive.
But it's still usurping my identity.
...
Which is ironic because I don't know what my identity is. Or what it should be.
So as I drink this last glass of wine (because the bottle is empty), I try to reclaim whatever identity I have. Maybe I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer have ONE identity, but rather a mixture. Yes, I am Natalya, the foreigner; but I'm also Gustavo's wife and Rolf and Christoph's mom and Nini's sister and Irene's daughter and Alycia's granddaughter and maybe somewhere very deep within me I'm still Natalya the writer. All of those selves are still me. Because one evolves and grows and changes. And that's all good.
Today I had a glass/bottle of wine and took the first step towards finding me. Later tonight I will have some pre-hangover medicine and tomorrow morning I'll probably take a pill for the highly-likely headache and drink some strong coffee. Throughout the day I may have some peppermint tea and for lunch I'll order a medium-rare steak with a side of red bell peppers and beans. And my husband will be ok and my children will be ok and the world will continue to be ok.
But - most importantly - *I will be ok.*
Or so I hope.
One can hope, right?
Here's raising my glass to finding myself.
Cheers to me.
Hello Natalya, the next you will read could be a little weird, so I hope at the end you could remember me, please do not try to make memory because only the note I have in my wallet may reminds you who I am. So lets see: many years have passed when i knew you in barranquilla, I was at a PLJ, but that year, 1999, I did not finish the program due to personal issues. But as once you said I do not want to miss this opportunity to tell you how happy I am to meet you again: One day I was alone in my bedroom, do cleaning and inside my papers I just saw a note that I have been keeping durign many years and I read it. It was really strange, my mind just start thinking and back to the past, I remember you as the nice and smart girl, in my note you wrote: "To the Fifth PLJ meeting I'm really sorry I do not anything about you, but you look like my cousin (RIP) and that make me feel weird, Much would like to know you, maybe you look more like my cousin than I thought. Natalya. " . Well Natalya, you are a great writer. One of these days I will send the note, just write me via whatsapp (+57 300 627 66 91), sorry if this sound weird, but as you know the world is a tissue. Bye . Miguel
ReplyDeleteP.D: Please write and invite me a drink. I have 7 years without drinking. =)