Gaia is bear-y one!

December 19, 2023 / toumemoir / Leave a comment

Gaia is now bear-y one, and her birthday was simple, sweet, and heartwarming. I find so much joy in planning my kids’ birthdays, and even more so when it’s their first. I love the innocence and simplicity of their birthdays, especially seeing their expressions. That said, I’ve been excited to plan Gaia’s first birthday for a long time now, and it turned out bear-y cute and successful.

I didn’t quite have a theme in mind. Instead, I was going for a simple rainbow pastel look. I love pastels, especially because I find they suit her personality well: sweet, calm, and feminine. The rainbows are most dear to me, too, not only because they’re colourful and fun and festive for a baby’s birthday, but Gaia was also a rainbow baby who’d been conceived after a miscarriage. The vision was all so fitting.

The night prior to the celebration was exciting. The kids were asleep, which meant a date night for my husband and I — we put up the decor together. I was enamoured with how it all turned out, especially the backdrop. Because we have a wall mirror, I wanted a backdrop to cover the reflection, so I used wrapping paper that I’d found at Dollarama for $5 for two rolls. They were lucky finds, too, because they were rainbow-themed. (A birthday backdrop on Amazon was too expensive for a one-time event.)

It was 2AM by the time my husband and I had finished cleaning up the house and decorating. We sat on the couch, popcorn bowl in hand, ready to watch a Doctor Who special. Pragmatically, I knew we should’ve gone to bed after decorating, as we’ve been severely sleep deprived. But I couldn’t sleep. Besides looking forward to celebrating Gaia and seeing her reactions and having family visit, feelings of anxiety and despair snuck up on me.

My dad had been sick for a while now, from what or where or when, and how, none of us knew. I was sad that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be able to attend Gaia’s birthday. Moreover, if he could, I knew that after the birthday, he’d still have to go to the ER to get his symptoms checked. The timing was off between a birthday celebration and a hospital visit, but it was admittedly very practical timing — my sister would be in town to drive him there and stay with him throughout the visit.

Therein lived the conundrum: the decor and birthday festivity awaited with hope and promises, but there was also the reality that we all held on to our breaths. Everyone had been physically and mentally taxed in their own ways, especially my parents due to my dad having been sick, and my sister for all her work-related ailments, compounded by the drive here.

Gaia in her rainbow sequin birthday dress. It melted my heart seeing her in it.

The morning of Gaia’s birthday celebration, my heart found joy. It was a new day — a celebratory day — and I knew that it would be an exciting day for the kids. The kids woke up and were happy to see all the decor. Keaton had a calm but joyful smile and said, “Wow, nice.” Gaia, too, looked pleased with the atmosphere. She was so cute in her rainbow sequin butterfly dress, with her pink stockings, hopping around.

After breakfast and getting ready, we went to pick up the cake, which turned out so graceful, sweet, and feminine — fit for Gaia’s first birthday. It was very much her. Besides rainbows and a pastel theme, I’d requested mini hair bows and a bear wearing one to honour Gaia’s first year of wearing hair bows. As for the flavour, I’d opted for vanilla cake with raspberry filling. It was a tad too sweet, but simultaneously divine and addictive.

By the time we got home, my sister and nieces had arrived. This is when the fun began. Keaton was absolutely thrilled to see them again (it does him good to see them often lately). Gaia, too, was delighted to see everyone. She was friendly and social, but very shy and calm at that. She loved playing with her auntie and cousins. Of course, everyone adored her for her sweet gestures and all the oh-so-darn-cute sounds she makes.

My parents, the kids’ Kong-Ma, arrived shortly after. I felt a sense of deep relief that they could make it, as it was their granddaughter’s first birthday. It would’ve been heartbreaking for everyone if they hadn’t been able to. I could see that my dad was fatigued from all the lack of sleep, but he was functional and present. Even if he couldn’t hold Gaia, the healing part for him was seeing her and Keaton, and all his grandkids under one roof.

Everyone who could be there, was there. Besides her mommy and daddy and big brother Ton-Ton, her Kong-Ma were there, as well as surprise guests, Auntie Mel Mel and cousins, Magaly and Victoria. Unfortunately, Auntie Reine and Uncle Titi couldn’t come because Auntie Reine was also sick. But, as always, she was so kind to send us home-cooked meals for Gaia’s birthday. (I’m incredibly lucky to have a thoughtful sister-in-law, who’s the most amazing and versatile cook I know.)

First time eating cake

So, we sang “Happy Birthday” and blew out the candle. Gaia looked around at all of us, intrigued whilst also basking in the celebration herself. It was amusing to watch her eating cake for the first time, too, because even how she approached it was like a little lady. She’d make very slow and calculating movements, and move the spoon very slowly to her mouth. The plot twist? She didn’t like it.

She didn’t eat much, except for a few licks and bird bites. I was very surprised because oftentimes, babies love sweets. One could expect them to go bonkers with their first cake tasting experience (her big brother was like that). But not Gaia, though. I have a theory that she’s on a diet to maintain her slim chic physique for some pageant I don’t know about.

The cutest part was watching her open her gifts. Again, she was very slow and methodical; she was a patient little lady. When she saw the plushies, though, her excitement flew in. She shook with joy! She just loves plushies (that’s a difference we noted between having a girl and a boy). She especially loved the bunny we’d bought her, and immediately cuddled it, tapped it a few times, and kissed it — all while making her cute sounds. She even shared it with her brother, too!

Everyone ate a lot of good food afterwards, thanks to my sister-in-law who’d sent some our way. It was so dear to watch Gaia sit between her grandparents enjoying her birthday meal. I was especially content to see my dad eat. He hadn’t eaten and slept for days, so seeing him have an appetite was a very good sign. I think being with his family, especially his grandkids, really gave him moral support and energy, most of all.

Following the birthday celebration, my sister and dad left to the ER. The rest of us stayed home and watched movies and played with the kids. My mom was worried about my dad, but the good news came not too long after. After a surprising mere 3.5-hour wait (oftentimes the wait time is much longer), the doctor concluded that my dad was fine, and simply prescribed some medications. We were all relieved and elated, especially my parents.

I know that for my sister, who drove all the way here from Montreal to attend her niece’s birthday, also felt a sense of relief having taken our dad to the hospital. I know she wouldn’t have lived well with herself if she hadn’t. We all knew it was best to be safe than sorry. And I’m thankful for her, and for all her resilience and dedication to her family, despite all her own struggles. She was very tired, but was ready to stay the night at the hospital, if need be.

Alas, that was Gaia’s first birthday celebration: an imperfect day that started off with worries and the unknown, that later transformed into magical moments and perfection. It was a Christmas miracle. Everyone was healthy and well, and there was my sweet daughter, cute-as-a-button, hopping around on her bum and loving all the company around her. Life was/is good.

***

We also went to the farm the next morning. I knew it would be memorable to take my nieces out on an adventure with my own kids, because normally when they visit, we all tend to stay home as time is just too short. But this time, even if my sister and they were leaving in the afternoon, we all made it a point to go on an adventure beforehand, anyway.

My nieces are now in their teenage years, so not everything is fun anymore; but, they did enjoy their farm visit, especially feeding the animals. Keaton also had so much fun playing chase with them in the labyrinth. This was a rare moment of adventure the cousins had together, and it did him a mountain of good.

I’m beginning to see that perhaps Keaton is repressed and frustrated. What he needs is more mental and social stimulation. He’s just so bright, so naturally he craves avenues through which he can share his creativity and insights with the world, especially through play. He’s been isolated for a long time, and I’ve noticed just how better behaved he is when these needs are met. I’m also very proud of him for being so mindful that it was his sister’s birthday, and for allowing her to have her celebratory moment.

As for Gaia, I’m not quite sure she was aware that it was her birthday, as she’s still so young. But she was very much aware of all the love headed her way. She herself had an infinite amount of love to share with others, too. She was a bubble of fluff and sweetness wherever she’d hop to.

The weekend was short and sweet, and adventuresome in many ways. I myself miss my sister and nieces deeply. We rarely see each other, so when we meet, I find myself feeling so joyful that their departure is juxtaposed by a sudden fall — a feeling of grief. I just really miss my family, and I wish we could see each other more often.

We also did a mini birthday celebration on Gaia’s actual birthday with the grandparents. This time, she wore her pink-polkadot-on-brown dress that my mom had bought her a long way back. She was so cute.

All the decor remained the same — I tend to keep it for a while to bask in it longer — but we did get another cake, which was symbolically important for me to mark the celebration of her true birthday. It was a simple banana one that we’d picked up from the supermarket.

Again, even with her second cake, Gaia refused to eat any, except for a few licks. I felt guilty that we were all enjoying her cakes, while she didn’t want any. I did offer the two cakes to her many times, but to no success. I really hope that when she’s older, she’ll come around to wanting some of her birthday cake — that’s a big part of the fun for this momma’s heart.

For what it’s worth, Gaia had experienced the best of the gifts: all the love and celebration in the world, and on two occasions, too. She’s a happy baby, and she knows she’s loved.

Happy Birthday to my sweet baby girl, who’s the light and healing of our lives. May your heart always be filled with trust, your mind with will, and your feet with strength. May God and the Universe and your Highest Soul guide you to limitless heights, and to your greatest potential and calling. May the goodness in you always prevail. We love you.

Petit bout de chou is twelve

March 13, 2021October 14, 2021 / toumemoir / Leave a comment

“If people ask how old he is, we’ll just say he’s twelve,” we both laughed.

There’s a joke my husband and I share about our son: he’s not a baby, he’s a pre-teen. Not only does he sport the physique, but he’s already sassy enough to be one. Oh, how he asserts his individuality and independence. As for us, R.I.P. We’re exhausted — just picture old dishevelled alley raccoons with missing hair on their tails from a street brawl. We’ve got dark under eye circles and we’re pitifully half-baked, but are we ever happy and appreciative.

Parenthood is a comical and mercurial thing. How being miserably depleted of any remaining mental faculty can co-exist proudly with butter-like feelings of immense joy and satisfaction, is a mystery to me. It’s like being slapped upside the head repeatedly yet still finding yourself smiling and wildly whispering, “Yes… yes…give me more.” It damn hurts, who wants that? Let’s be real: parents are nuts. We’re nuts. And I love it.

It’s surreal to think that one year has passed since our son’s birth. Between motherhood, debilitating fatigue, and my suspected depression — and, an unpitying pandemic — there’s a feeling of having lost my awareness of time. There’s a sense of amnesia I experience where every day feels strangely different yet familiarly the same — when each day rolls out into the next unscathed. Life has been far from normal — our identities, core values, characters, relationships tested through it all — but when I look at our son and see how happy and vibrant he is, I know that everything is worth it and as it should be.

Keaton is now a tiger-esque One, and it’s been a real treat to watch him grow and thrive. I adore how obsessively analytical and perceptive he is; how stealthily and quickly he prances like a tiger; and how his soul emanates compassion and sensitivity. When I look at him, I know that he’s truly ours. There’s much I’d like to write about him here — I wish the world knew and witnessed just how wondrous he is — but at the same time, I wish to reserve him for the private recesses of my heart. There’s a certain injustice in attempting to paint a portrait of him — I feel as though I’m doing him a disservice. My goal as his mother isn’t to try to convey to the world who he is; rather, it’s to provide him with the necessary tools and guidance that will enable him to reveal himself to the world, on his own terms, in due time.

Yet that’s our catch-22, and the most emotionally-charged part of our current experience. It wasn’t the isolation and lack of support throughout the pandemic, nor the crippling fatigue of caring for a baby. It wasn’t the mastitis that felt like razors to my breasts, and that provoked cries of agony. It wasn’t even the emotional trauma of motherhood — the other side of the coin that’s rarely discussed. If you harbour wounds, and are aware of it, you know that something unexpected happens when you have your first baby: unresolved and repressed pains surface. The journey to motherhood is all-encompassing: sweet and joyful, and also dark and traumatic. Yet there’s no healing time between diapers, meals, and laundry.

Nevertheless, none of that could’ve weakened my knees in the grand scheme of things. I was the child of parents who’d survived a genocide and forced labour, and who’d lost children in the process. I was also the child who was fearful of the sound of roaring thunder, but when my father told me that bombs were twenty times louder and scarier during the war, grew to understand that fear was a state of mind. And thus was my mantra from a young and ripe age: if my parents had survived the worst of life, there was nothing in this world that I wouldn’t be able to overcome. My silhouette was my own to meet and greet over many times, under different circumstances, no matter how menacing it may appear.

As a mother now, however, I realized the following: I may be unyielding and resilient as an individual, but as a mother I was vulnerable. I had something to lose that was beyond myself, just as I had something to love that was beyond myself. Keaton was that whom I loved beyond myself, and therein lies my deepest heartache: we were never able to share him — our greatest pride and joy — with our families and the rest of the world since he was born. He was our first baby, our first love. Yet no one was able to see and experience him as we had. The pleasure of sharing our first bundle of joy would’ve been just as paramount as acquiring support from loved ones in times of distress, and through it all, I felt robbed of my most natural need.

Many of us had been struggling in some way, shape, or form. Throughout my transition to motherhood, I realized just how much I needed my family and support network — to feel their reassuring touch and warmth. And I knew that throughout this pandemic, they needed us just as much. When I look at our parents who’d lived difficult lives and are old and vulnerable, I come to feel ever more that time is indeed of the essence and that every moment counts. Life doesn’t wait for anyone, especially not when you’ve reached old age — and more so when you’re a real victim of COVID-19. In one year of our lives — the young and healthy — life has remained relatively stable. In one year of our elderly parents’ lives, whether they’ll ever see their grandson is a gamble in a spec of time.

Yet I could no longer wish for a world that wasn’t — that was unbearable, and insanity to say the least. The only way out was through. And that was to make amends with the current situation of our lives and to accept without reservation that being happy and grateful was a matter of adapting to the present moment, and to the ever-evolving whims of life. All of life was, after all, but perception, attunement, and a comedic and lighthearted dance with the cosmic forces of nature and humanity’s collective psyche — if one so chooses. There’s immense power and healing in yielding. Keaton’s birthday became one of the happiest memories of my life, because I willed it to be. And so it was.

Keaton’s first birthday was the climatic point of my pride and joy, and this post, so heavily charged, pays honour to it. His birthday, and the elated happiness I felt, wouldn’t have been what it was without the past and current context of our lives. It was at once a celebration of him and a testament of our resilience and strength as a cohesive unit and family. One year later, I was still breastfeeding my son — a point of pride because I’ve lived through much pain without help or support at a time when the world fell into a state of chaos. My husband and I also became all the wiser and stronger, and our son grew beautifully into our beloved kindred spirit. As my husband would say, “We’ve struggled, but we’re doing something right.”

Thank you to my dearest husband for all of his love and support. For loving me gently and kindly at a time when I didn’t have the strength. For his utmost patience and dedication as a father and a family gentleman. For the smiles and laughter he’s brought to Keaton and me.

I’ll always remember Keaton’s first birthday, even if he most likely won’t remember it himself, much less babyhood in a pandemic. The day was ever so sweet. He immediately noticed the “Happy Birthday” banner on the wall of his play space as soon as we walked into the room in the wee hours of the morning — the curtains still hiding the morning light outside. I could tell that he was observing the banner intently, and the cutest part was that he kept smiling while looking at it. It’s as if he knew that a surprise was awaiting him later that day. I couldn’t wait for him to see the kitchen — the real birthday setting. Yet when we walked in, rather than react with surprise and excitement, he quietly analyzed and assessed his surroundings.

The afternoon was young, and Keaton was in a good mood throughout the day. (Phew, such sweet relief for an anxious event planner like mommy.) Auntie Mel Mel arrived at the scene like Santa Claus at a birthday party — bags and boxes of gifts weighing her down as she walked up the stairs to our apartment. I was just as surprised as Keaton when we witnessed fun orange and green helium balloons slowly emerging from the bag that sheltered them — the colours paying homage to our jungle theme, and orange to his spirited personality. In fact, I joined my son in sheer excitement and clapped like a happy seal. (I’m a big kid, I must admit. And I have no shame.)

Peek-a-boo flavour: red velvet with cream cheese

My favourite token of his jungle-themed birthday was his custom cake. Since we often refer to him as a baby tiger, due to his fearless and determined nature mixed with a sassy tint of stubbornness and charm, I asked the cake decorator to create a baby tiger fondant as the centerpiece to symbolize him. It looked so stinkin’ cute. We even kept the tiger fondant in the freezer, with the intention of showing it to him in the years to come. Funnily, his grandparents really had a kick watching him eat his birthday cake slowly but surely on video. As with everything he does, even eating his cake was done with careful tact and calculation.

The heartwarming part of it all, was that in spite of the pandemic and lockdown measures, our loved ones and those that mattered most to us got to be present — we celebrated Keaton’s birthday virtually. When it came time to singing “Happy Birthday” and cutting the cake, we video-called our parents and siblings, and while I comically thought we’d lose one or two along the way — imagine old parents using technology — the event was much more smooth-sailing than I’d anticipated. I couldn’t be happier than seeing Keaton studying the screens, curious of his grandparents’ many facial expressions, even if he didn’t really understand who they were or what they were communicating, only that they were cheering for him. There was something honest and beautiful in that moment: his grandparents felt his presence, just as he felt theirs.

That was his first birthday in quarantine: fun, thematic, and fit for a little guy with a big personality. Even if the world was imperfect and his grandparents and relatives couldn’t be there in person, we were blessed because we still had technology. Our parents had the opportunity to see him smile and laugh, which was enough to equip them with courage and strength. As for us, we were surrounded by love and support. Keaton is so deeply loved, and seeing him burst with laugher on his birthday while delighting in the sight of all the decor and treats, was all I needed.