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I don’t know what I want to say today. Words form my world, words I read, words I say, words I type. Yet today my words seem to be failing me. 7 years ago, when my world came to standstill words were my salvation. I wrote letters to my daughter like a maniac, staring into her isolate, holding her tiny hand, my words were my respite. I have never shared those words with another soul, not even completely with my husband. They are for her only, when she is old enough to understand. Almost 13yrs ago, when another rock came hurling at my family, I turned to words. Yet today, my words fail me. Perhaps this poetry will soothe my soul for tonight....

It feels like a craving
A heady rush
The need debilitating 
Yet indescribable 

How do I explain my angst
To those that turn deaf
I don’t want riches
I merely want words

Life feels incomplete
Even as I jump and twirl
I laugh with abandon
Yet inside I feel alone

Part of the joy of giving
Is seeing others happy
I am not like the giving tree
Ready to burn down till I am no more

How do I balance
Me and my world
Every time I try
I get pushed back some more

Hope is eternal
A woman’s strength is too
No matter what faces me
I will forge through...

My will is not iron
It is pliable yet strong
I focus on my world
My will is to survive

Each step ahead
A tiny measure of confidence
No matter what lies ahead
I lead chin up and straight ahead..

- Angela A Vincent
@4.38p Sep 30

Being a millennial Mom

I’ve read about the helicopter parent, the tiger parent and even the trophy parent (considers their kids trophies for photo-ops), but I haven’t read about being a millennial mom. Add in a preemie mom, special needs mom, crazy south Asian working mom and you have a pretty wacky mix ☺️ Being a millennial mom, in my mind, signifies a challenge of dealing with the mobile technology revolution, video game crazies, academic achievements and old world traditions.

When I talk to my friends from South Asia or the new age parents (is that the right word?), they tend to prefer the old world traditions. They don’t seem to want any of the millennial and gen x, y, etc influences on their kiddos. They always talk about the good old days. My perspective is different and hopefully not unique - I grew up in a world with no internet, old school phones. I spent my teens figuring out technology, most of which we use today. I love some of the things we did back in the day  growing up and I adore the convenience and challenges afforded to me by technological advances.

I want my children to embrace technology and the knowledge and skills it offers yet be aware and tread carefully among the virtual land mines. It is a tricky balance but is it really different than dealing with real world land mines? How do you teach your children to be aware of stranger danger, be kind to other children, trust their instincts? Aren’t those the same skills you would teach them in this new era as well? Being an ostrich and wanting the old world isn’t going to make my kids reality go away. In fact it may alienate them, so I embrace it with caution.

Honestly, I use the same approach when it comes to healthcare and technology. Technological advancement in healthcare and evidence based research enabled the possibility of a micropreemie child the chance at survival and wonderful outcomes. My daughter changed my entire perception of the world and my role in it with her arrival as a micropreemie. I embrace healthcare and technological advancements because of her. Someone somewhere believed in the possibility, and I am eternally grateful for them. When she was a newborn, everyone from the docs and nurses to family and friends (well meaning) would give me stats of survival and positive outcomes. My question was always the same, I do not care what the outcomes and possibilities of all the general population, I only care about this one child and her outcome. So, parenting ideologies are varied, but all I care about is what is the correct balance that will give my children the best outcomes.

New beginnings..

Yesterday felt like a new beginning, not from the perspective of any major achievements, purely because I came back to blogging after an eternity (or so it seems).

Isn’t it funny when you go back in time and can revisit old memories or perhaps the old you? I was doing that earlier today. I revisited some of my old blog posts, and feel happy revisiting the old me. As a mom, working woman and wife, basically as I grow older, I’ve moved away from the confident independent young woman into someone else. I like the maturity of thought that I have grown into, yet the concept of concerning myself with others opinion (less of me, more of my family) is new to me.

Late last year, I went to a high school friend’s wedding. It was the first time I had travelled alone for a personal reason without my family since my daughter was born. Her birth and journey deserve its own post, but it changed my perspective completely. It was honestly liberating to be with people who knew me even before I became a self assured young woman. These folks knew me when I was the nerd at school, the person crazy about Maths and read books all the time. I didn’t realize that you can miss parts of yourself - it’s less about the memories and more about who I was. I’ve been on a quest to revisit and reaffirm parts of my self from before. I don’t think the intent is to ever go away from the current me, but I needed to connect with my history so that I can realign those memories with my current world view. Today, I read about memory formation and memory redevelopment, perhaps it is my own venture into memory redevelopment :)

Once step at a time... Thanks for reading my words today 💕

Lazy Circles...

My words have always been my salvation, yet for years now I have held back. I am busy in the roles I have chosen to play, actually roles I have embraced as girlfriend, wife, mom and daughter. The transition at times have been smooth like the waves leaving the shore, yet at time feel rough like choppy waves on a craggy rockface. I am not super mom or super woman. I struggle with life, with my daily choices. Being a woman is hard, mom, working mom, stay at home mom, wife, daughter, daughter in law, and the list goes on. The balance of life feels like insurmountable like a mountain ready to swallow me whole and spit out nothing. I wish there was some gyaani working mom t give me life lessons on patience, acceptance, tolerance. My mom always told me, A you should be more patient. I wish I was..

The truth is that there is no universal touchstone to being balanced in your life. Neither is it a destination you reach and stay for the rest of your lives. My balance is chaos some days, it’s recognizing that it may not even be in sight for a few days or months. Balance may be the knowledge of holding your spouse’s hand for a few minutes or rocking your children to sleep. Why do we expect every day, every, minute, every interaction to be thoughtful or peaceful?

I am struggling with my balance today, yet there is no major chaos in my life at work or home. Have you ever been on the beach, looked out at the horizon, the tiny dots of boats or ships and thought “wow they must have a beautiful life”? Yet consider that person’s view - they may be appreciating the view, struggling to earn their livelihood or be on a trip to run from a stressful life. Perspectives are important.

Mine today is a little skewed. I feel like there are major changes coming upon me and mine, but I am not clear about the intent or outcome. When B was in the NICU, every day felt like this. Hope was alive, mainly thanks to my husband and mom and friends. Yet, terror and a lack of knowledge are the bane of my existence. I wonder how other women negotiate this? I wonder how other moms, working moms comba5 this feeling?

Simplicity

Set adrift in a pool of melancholy
Greys greens and blue
Myriad like the ocean floor
Swarm to envelop me

City light fade in and out
The radio buzzes like a fly
The drone distracting
Nothing but a passing fancy

Deep slumberous thoughts
Awaken like a monster
Black and cavernous
Obliterating all light

The pinks and purples of the night sky
A beautiful flower with shades of night
Darkness taking over the beauty
My inside reflected outside

Reflections colors emotions
Thoughts feelings multitude
Simplicity is my preference
Yet simple is not an option for all

By
Angela Vincent @ 7.32p on 10/20/17

My warrior

A tiny heartbeat
Before she was born
Under my heart
And she stole my heart

A team in disray
Scrambling to bring her safe
They ask us the question
Do you want us to save this child?

A moment etched in my mind
Think about what it means
Your child’s life is on a hold
Waiting for your yes or no

We had no qualms
No hesitation with a yes
Even as they swarmed in
Along with uncertainty and terror

She is a fighter
A warrior
Our princess
More than that, she is our miracle...

Years have passed
She fights through it all
Therapies, doctors, specialists
School, hospitalizations, everything

She does it with a smile
A trusting heart
And a flair for art
I love her passion, her knowledge, just her.

We are back again
In the hospital
Thanks to mr.bug and preemie lungs
I would trade anything
For her to be spared

The team is amazed
At how far she has come
I am too
But I hurt when she does

There is no single truth
That defines all our children
My son and daughter are like night and day
Yet each is a miracle in their own right

Prayers and faith I believe in
Our clinical team I trust in
My husband is my touchstone
One day at a time, we move forward

Many do not trust in my story
They are not witness to a miracle, you see
My child, my warrior princess
She is real and she will slay.

Momma’s instinct
is a thing rumored
before I had my children
Now it’s honed in fires
So I trust in it forever.

No end to this story as yet
Writing helps me heal
I love the strong women in my life
who inspire me on how to be strong for her.

- By Angela Vincent
6.57am on Oct11th as I sit by my daughter’s bed in the hospital.

Midnight Ramblings

Hazy clouds drift by
Shrouding my face tonight
Thoughts flit by
Every second tonight

I wonder where I lost myself
In the sea of life
The one I was I no longer am
Yet I crave the feel of me...

Scarred battle worn by life
I feel not the blood or sores
Some visible some invisible
I prepare myself for more

Is this what life is meant to be?
The life I dreamt as a kid
Dreams feel weary and false
What happened to the thread of life?

My silver lining
My rainbows and gold
My babies fast asleep
Snuggling while I stay out cold

Words come easy to me
My words my view
It's been a long time
Since I've given them the freedom so...

Why did I stop?
Why do I start?
I know not the answer to..
Yet glad I am that
My words are stripping free..

Gold and brown
Pink and blues
Colors I see around
Calm and strength
My choice I made for me

stars on canvas

Stars on Canvas

tiny flecks of light

shining far above

a temptresses beckoning

her true love

i reach my hands out

when i see them dropping

becoming bright stars

falling from the night sky

their light white and warm

tempting me with their heat

so close yet so far

forever just beyond my grasp

they fall like droplets

onto my canvas

brilliant colors shining true

clear against the pitch black

i felt their warmth

the hope of catching it alive

yet seeing the beauty on my canvas

leaves a hole in my heart

i wonder why it hurts to think

about what did not happen

when the dream of the next star shower

opens up unending possibilities...

By

Angela A. Vincent

5/26/11 5.50pm

A voice for the victims..

Memories..

Memories are funny
sometimes they are beautiful
like pearls on a delicate string
sometimes they are transient
like the ripple in a pond

memories are interesting
sometimes they make us reflect on past actions
like light on the polished edge of a pebble
sometimes they make us wonder
like a child seeing their first firefly

memories are fascinating
sometimes they are wonderful
like the night sky lit with moonbeams
sometimes they make us cry
like our world is falling apart

memories are fulfilling
sometimes they lead to silent tears
like raindrops on a cloudless night
sometimes they help us relive our favorite moments
like the time spent plaiting my grandmother's hair :)

regardless of how we get there
or where they take us
our memories define our actions
they tell us who we were, who we are
and even where we may be headed next...

By,
Angela Archana Vincent