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March 11th we got a positive pregnancy test. March 12th, another positive test. March 15th, confirmation from the blood test at the doctors that I was definitely pregnant. Even after this confirmation, it still hadn’t sunk in immediately. I didn’t react the way I thought I would when I’d find out. It was a bit of shock, disbelief. This was only our second cycle trying. After my myomectomy in September 2020, where 11 fibroids and 4 cysts were removed, I mentally prepared for a long and trying journey of trying to conceive. It couldn’t be that only after our second cycle, we were pregnant! My therapist once said to me, “When the brain and body have gone through much suffering, the brain prepares to receive more of it.” It’s like an army, ready for war, at any time. My brain, ready for the suffering. Bring it on. Suffering we know. Joy? Not as of late. Therefore, when it was confirmed that we were pregnant after our second cycle trying, I had a hard time accepting it. 

As the days went on, I downloaded baby apps to help me track…yes of course I had to download 3, because why not? My husband even downloaded some on his phone. I purchased a beautiful pregnancy journal to have a place to record my experience. I continued taking my prenatal vitamins and paid more attention to what I was eating/not eating. I downloaded the Peanut app to be in community with other moms-to-be. I started following accounts on IG related to pregnancy. We shared the news with immediate family and close friends. Day by day, it sunk in a bit more. Baby B (B = Bentsi-Enchill), was growing in me. I began talking to Baby B. I began to feel that I wasn’t alone in my body anymore. We began to rearrange our room (in our minds) and imagine where baby things would go. We began to imagine a world with Baby B in it. 

We arrived at our first ultrasound appointment excited and expectant. Hoping to see an image that though hard to make out, would be our baby. Hoping to hear a heartbeat. After all, we were at the end of our 7 weeks, about to make 8 weeks the day after our appointment. The technician puts the cold jelly on my lower belly and presses down with the tool (idk the name of it). She says “here’s the yolk sack.” Enters the other tool inside me and is moving it around and typing things into her computer. I see F1 & F2 on the screen. Turns out I have 1 more fibroid than I thought. But then she says, “here’s the baby!” Relief. There’s actually something in me. It sinks in more. No heartbeat though, and no mention of it. 

Next is the appointment with the doctor. We had been reading up on what the first trimester appointment would be like. Lots of exams, checking, questions, bloodwork. So I was ready for all of it. Instead the nurse takes my vitals and tells us to wait for the doctor. “Should I undress?” I ask. “No, just wait for the doctor.” she replies. We wait. Doctor comes in after a while and tells us that the baby is measuring earlier than expected, 6 weeks only. There’s also no heartbeat detected. I have to come in next week to see if there’s been any growth and to see if we can detect a heartbeat. If not, it would be considered a non-viable pregnancy, a miscarriage. Woah. Hard to hear those words as a first-time mom. “We have to get bloodwork done today in the case it is a miscarriage.” Dag, really? Tears swell up in my eyes. I knew it was too easy. My amazing husband tries to lift me up and shares a different perspective. “Maybe we just came too early? Things take time to develop. By next week, so much growth can happen.” I tell him I want a burger…food brought some comfort. 

Next week comes, we find ourselves in the same room with the same technician. She does the same exams. Yet remains quiet the whole time. No, “here’s this” and “here’s that” on the screen. I see her typing F3, F4, F5 and so forth. I ask, “so do I have more fibroids?” “This is one” she replies, not giving me the full answer. The rest of our time there, silence. Just her moving the tool inside of me around, looking at her screen, and typing away. When she’s done she tells me to get dressed and go up for my doctor’s appointment. I ask her as she’s leaving the room, “Is everything okay?” She replies, “the doctor will explain it all to you.” Not very promising. I told my husband that this doesn’t feel or sound or look good. We go upstairs and wait for the doctor. “No growth. No heartbeat. Miscarriage.” The only words that stuck. Everything else she said sounded like mumbling. It was like my mind blocked it out. Thank God my husband was there to keep record of what she said and what the next steps would be. We asked what could’ve caused it. She mentioned possible chromosomal errors. The body notices something isn’t right, and it discontinues the growth. Sigh. See? I told ya’ll it was too easy. Struggle and suffering, here we go. 

That day, I came home and wept. The next day, more weeping. “This happened because I wasn’t fully connected to the baby from the beginning. What did I do to cause this? Why would God let this happen? Maybe I don’t deserve good things.” these thoughts flowed through my mind. Even worse ones not worth mentioning. I was in such a negative space. So grateful for my husband who continuously supports me, and with such patience and grace listens, and when the timing is appropriate offers a more positive outlook. The next day, I wept some more. The day after, I took a long walk in the park. I journaled. I purchased 5 books. I ate a whole cup of ice cream from ColdStone. Just letting myself feel all the feels, without judgment. One of the books I purchased is on grief, It’s OK That You’re NOT OK, by Megan Devine. It’s been really helpful so far. One of my favorite quotes so far in the book was so validating “Grief is part of love. Love for life, love for self, love for others. What you are living, painful as it is, is love. And love is really hard. Excruciating at times.” We had so much love already for Baby B. To lose someone you’ve never met, yet felt so close to. Such a different experience. Nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. 

So here we are. Here I am. D&C* procedure completed. All physical remnants of Baby B gone. All the emotional ones still here. I’m slowly accepting that I do deserve good things. Bad things just happen sometimes. Yet through it all, I know I am not alone. In the same way I did when I found out I was pregnant, I followed pages on social media that were related to miscarriage and loss of baby. I’ve felt the strong presence of my family and wonderful friends. I’ve had women around me share their stories of loss and now feel a stronger connection to them. My husband and I have one more chapter to add to our story. So much love and prayers sent our way. God’s love displayed through all of it. 

I don’t know what the future holds for us. I am working on being as present as I can for myself. Being intentional about my self-care, now more than ever. Knowing that my life will never be the same. Baby B came quickly, and soon after left. However, a space in my heart holds Baby B so dear to me. 

Baby B, we love you always. Your Momma T & Daddy Nii <3 

*A dilation and curettage procedure, also called a D&C, is a surgical procedure in which the cervix (lower, narrow part of the uterus) is dilated (expanded) so that the uterine lining (endometrium) can be scraped with a curette (spoon-shaped instrument) to remove abnormal tissues. (HopkinsMedicine.Org)

At the end of last year, I made one of the most adult decisions in my adult life.

I guess the reason it feels like an adult decision, is because it’s one that I made for myself. To be clear, I made this decision, not by myself, because I consulted others (there’s wisdom in seeking good counsel). But I made it for myself. Not driven by other people’s expectations of me. Not driven by what I think other people want me to do. Not driven by fear of what others will think, do, or say. Not driven by fear of disappointing others. Not driven by fear of how challenging it may be to make it. Not driven by, “this is what I’m supposed to do.” For what feels like the first time, I made this decision based on what is best for me, right now.

It was not easy. There were tears involved, vulnerable sharing, thought-stopping exercises…I almost didn’t make it…but I did it! This was a pretty big deal for me and I am so proud of myself for it.

How did I get there you ask? Well, here is some insight into my decision-making process:

1. Ask yourself what matters most? Though there may often be many competing things of importance in our lives, when we reflect on it, there are usually a few things that truly matter most. For me, I knew that my health and my relationships were priority. Those were two things I did not want to compromise on. When I evaluated how not making this decision would impact those two areas of my life, the answer was very clear. I had to make the choice.

2. Seek counsel. Proverbs 11:14 (New King James Version) says “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; but in the multitude of counselors there is safety.” Y’all. My support system is everythang. But it’s not just anyone you’d want to seek counsel from. Make sure it’s counsel from people who truly know you, and who have your best interests at heart. I needed to make this decision separate from others’ expectations of me. I made sure that those who I leaned on for counsel were able to offer it separate from their own desires and expectations for me as well. That is key. They knew what mattered to me, they knew what my values were, they believed in me, and they reminded of me of these things throughout our conversations.

3. Expect push-back and prepare for it. I knew I would experience some push-back when I made my decision. The push-back wasn’t forceful, it was actually very gentle…and enticing. Some of the push-back made me think “Hmm, they are not wrong. Maybe I can keep doing this.” But because I had already mentally prepared for it, I knew how to recognize it when it came. It wasn’t easy, but I knew I had to stick to my guns (singing P.J. Morton’s “Sticking to My Guns” as I wrote that last line). Some folks may not understand your reasons, and that is okay. Say it with me, it is okay.

4. Stand firm. This is related to the above-mentioned. In order to prepare for expected push-back, you must stand firm. A mentor (one of the ones I sought counsel from) offered this bit of encouragement to me that was so helpful in me standing firm: “A woman may discern, but then she must be confident in her discernment and strong enough to carry it out even when other voices push against her discernment. She calls on Jesus to stand with her in the discernment.” By the time I was ready to make the decision, I knew it was the right one to make, and I knew WHY I was making it. Which leads me to my next and final step.

5. Know your WHY. Knowing your why is the foundation of this decision-making process. Why do the things in step #1 matter? My health matters because when I’m not at my best, I am no good for myself or anyone else around me. Since 2014, I have been on a journey towards my overall health; mental, emotional, and physical. It is essential for me to protect the health I have acquired as I continue towards obtaining greater health. I want to last as long as God wants me on this earth for. When I am healthy, I am at my best. As I mentioned before, my support system is everythang. Relationships hold a high value to me. It is important for me nurture them with my time, energy, love, and my best self. I believe every person in my support system is an extension of God’s love for me. It matters to me to honor these relationships with all they need in order to be nurtured and grow.

I continue to be proud of myself for making this decision. I look forward to more adult decisions to come. I look forward to having this newfound strength quiet the internal voices of second-guessing myself, to make the best decision for me. I hope the same for you too.

How to manage loneliness during the holidays?

I write this not as a mental health professional, but as a single woman who has dealt with feeling lonely at times, especially during the holiday season. I also write this understanding that singleness does not equate to loneliness. I also understand that we can face loneliness during any season of our lives. Therefore, these tips may be used at any point where loneliness is felt. Also, these are things that have worked for me. They may not work for you, and that’s okay. I share to unite. Hope that at least one of these may be helpful for you. I share to let you know you’re not alone. 

• Acknowledge the feeling. Give yourself permission to feel. To cry if needed. There is nothing wrong with you for feeling lonely. We long for connection, we were made for it. You are longing for what you were created to have, connection.
• Reach out. Friends or any family you may have around or even in distance. Call, text, visit. Even if you don’t “feel” like it. Or even if you think they may be busy.
• Move forward with daily plans as best as you can. Routine brings a sense of security and safety.
• Do small things that bring some relief and even joy. Take a bath. Light that candle. Listen to that song and dance. Go to the movies. Drink that hot chocolate or latte.
• Do some good for others. Whatever that could be. Send a card, a random gift, ask someone how they are doing, volunteer at a community organization. This allows us to shift the focus from ourselves to another. This helps with feeling connection to another.
• Know that this too shall pass. You will not feel this way forever.
• Know that God is there. Always. At all times.

I am with you. I love you.

From the moment we come out of the womb touch becomes an important part of our lives. Whether we are touched or not has an essential impact on our development. Attachment theory delves into this. How securely attached are we? 

Touch. 

Fingers caressing a baby’s face. A baby’s head. Ever so softly.  

Hug consoling the seven year old child who comes home crying from a bad day at school. 

Hand of a father cupping his little girl’s face as she looks up into his eyes and he tells her she’s beautiful and how much he loves her.  

Touch.  

You inserting yourself into me after several “no’s” and several “stop please’s.” In and out. Each time producing more numbness. Loss of sensitivity to…touch.  

Touch.  

Becomes less important now. Doesn’t matter who touches me now. Numb. I am numb to any kind of touch. My own touch. The touch of others. Numb. His touch. Then his. His touch. Then his. All the same. Numb.  

Touch.  

Then His touch came and changed everything. You touched deeper than anyone else. Your touch revived me. Made me feel again. Pain. Pain of what I had been numb to for years. But pain so necessary to feel. Needed in order to heal. Your touch brought healing to me.  

Touch.  

Touch is beautiful again. Even though reminders of pain come, it’s okay. It reminds me I can feel again. 

Mami’s kiss on my forehead. Papi’s pat on my head. Brother’s high five. Sister’s “forced hug.” Nephew’s embrace. Girlfriend’s tight hugs. Boyfriend’s caress. 

Touch.

Touch is beautiful again.  

Touch me. Let me touch you.  

Touch.  

I am choosing love over fear. 

I am not running from fear. I see it. I acknowledge it. I welcome it. But it doesn’t drive me. 
I pat the fear puppy on its head and I say, “There, there boy. It’s gonna be okay. I see you, I’m listening, I hear what you’re trying to warn me about, but don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay.” 

You see, I’m different. I’ve come to the point in my life where I understand WE ALL STRUGGLE. We all suffer. It’s not just me. It’s all of us.

I’ve come to learn that struggle, pain, loss, heartache…it’s inevitable. As long as we have breath in our lungs, we are prone to the struggle of life…but we’re also open to the joys of life. The laughter, the love, the fun, the excitement, the hope. 

I choose to see beyond what fear tells me to see. 

I choose love. I’m not naive. I see the possible hills…mountains up ahead. But I also see the love that leads me. The peace that guards me. The strength that grounds me. I see that too. 

and so I keep it moving…moving towards love, in love, with love, for love. 

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.
For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. 

Six years.

For six years I engaged in a relationship with a man. Truth is, we weren’t ever actually an official couple. He wasn’t my man. I didn’t get claimed as his woman. But for six years we were in a relationship. We talked every day, throughout the whole day. He had the unspoken permission to call me at any time of the night and I would answer. Yes y’all, any time. I stayed on the phone with him until the wee hours of the morning. Even if I needed to wake up early the next day, I would entertain the conversation ‘til 3:00, 4:00 in the morning. Some of these nights we weren’t even talking. He’d be on the other side playing an instrument, or telling me about a new idea he had, a new project he had come up with, or a new video I had to watch. I listened. I offered support. I also shared. We had so many things in common. When we saw each other it felt so right. At least, to me it did. I longed for the day that he would realize that we were meant to be. Throughout the six years there were times where we were distant, but after some time we somehow seemed to find our way back to each other. It was as if there was a magnetic pull between us. I was sure that my efforts of being present and available to him were to one day bring the result of us being together. Of him being my man and me being his woman. Sure enough, that day never came.  I eventually realized that what I thought was a genuine interest in me and in “us” was more of an unhealthy pattern of codependency. I was stuck on the hope “what if’s” and well, he seemed to believe that I would always be there…because I was. 

Lesson Learned:

Be with someone who knows without a doubt that they want to be with you.
Be with someone willing to make space for you in their life, the way you are for them.
 

Two years.

For two years I engaged in a relationship with a man. It was the most official, unofficial relationship I had ever been in. It was sort of random how it began. One of those situations that people heard about and said, “Huh? How’d that happen?” He definitely had a way with his words. A sweet talker he was. I was intrigued by his thoughts, by the way he expressed himself. He made me feel so special. We would hang out with my family and friends. Some liked him, some didn’t. Regardless, in my eyes, everything was great. Yet that quickly spiraled…the second half of our time together was pretty awful. My self-worth had gone completely down into the dumps. He criticized the way I wore my hair, the scars on my skin, my weight. If I ever brought up how I felt about something he did, he had this uncanny ability to make it seem as if I was the one who had done something wrong. He was a pro at gaslighting me y’all. I cried. A LOT. Yet somehow I held on to hope. The hope that he would change. The hope that the words that he had expressed earlier on would eventually come to life. I later realized change was nowhere near for him. My love for him could not fix him. I had taken enough. Enough of feeling small and unworthy of love. So I made the choice to leave. God gave me the strength to leave. As torn and beat up as I was, He gave me the strength to drag myself away from the pull he had. 

Lesson Learned:

You are worthy. You are loved. You are valuable. Just the way you are.
Any man who makes you feel otherwise, RUN. IMMEDIATELY.
 

One year and a half.

For a year and a half I engaged in a relationship with a man. Well, not really a romantic relationship. More like a friendship. He initiated contact and expressed interest. I was a bit surprised since he wasn’t my usual type. Yet he had many of the qualities I’d been praying for. He loved God, served at his church, and was generally a nice dude. We had pretty good conversations at first. Shared a number of interests. By this time I was older, more mature, had life lessons under my belt, and my mindset was different. I was in a much healthier state than the last time I had been approached by a man expressing interest. He was super nice, and also super not ready for a relationship. I heard him express that, but I didn’t listen. I did silently questioned, “So…you’re reaching out to me, saying that you like me and are interested, but you’re not ready for a relationship? Huh?” Yet despite my internal questions, I remained engaged. I mean, it had been a number of years since I had a man express interest in me. So I of course had to engage. Attention feels good. Come on, you know it’s true. And of course, after some time, I realized he was right. He was not ready. Any time the topic of relationship came up, it was as if he froze. It would have been good to listen earlier on. 

Lesson Learned:

When a man says he’s not ready for a relationship, believe him. 
 

Five months.

For five months I engaged in a relationship with a man. I met him the eve of my thirtieth birthday. A birthday I had declared would be life changing. It sure was. He had most of the qualities I had dreamed of. He was tall, dark chocolate, bald, bearded, and strong. Don’t worry, he had other things beyond appearance that I had prayed for as well. He was kind, gentle, attentive, educated, hard-working, intellectual, family oriented, wise, generous, affectionate, listened well, sensual, caring…I could go on and on. He was amazing. Yet, he could not give me what I needed and wanted. Commitment. I understood his reasons why. See, he had gone through a number of losses right before we met. It was as if the excitement of our relationship distracted him from the hurt that was lying underneath. After a couple of months of dating, I began to question the direction of where we were headed. The hurt he held seemed to creep back up for him. He could not manage dealing with his hurt, and loving me at the same time. Y’all, I’m a natural helper. Those who know me will tell you. I mean, I do this for a living (read more in my About Me). I could have stayed and offered the help he needed to deal with the pain. But after all the lessons learned, I knew I could not be in a space of waiting much longer. I loved him enough to give him the space he needed. I loved myself enough to know what I needed and wanted. In the past, I would’ve stayed longer. I would’ve waited, and waited, and waited — and waited. This time self-love won. Was about damn time.

Lesson Learned:

It is important for me to be with a man who is responsible for his own self-care.
 

Today.

These lessons have helped me understand what I desire and what I need from a partner in a romantic relationship. Think about your past relationships. What lessons have you learned from them? What worked? What didn’t work? What would you have done differently? Every experience offers a lesson.

What are your lessons learned? I invite you to leave your feedback in the comments…

I don’t really remember when I first had the desire to create a blog. I’m actually laughing now that I think about it. Laughing because it reminds me of other journeys in my life and how things seem to “just happen” — they don’t really “just happen” though.  In thinking about starting my blog, I’m reminded of my journey into social work (which I’ll likely write about eventually). At that time, my thought process was, I want to help people, get my hands dirty and really be there for people in pain and suffering. I want to help people overcome and thrive, and I want it to do it for a living. Turns out, a way to do that was by getting an MSW degree (masters in social work), and so I went for it. Over a decade in the field of social work and I’ve never regretted it.

Similar experience with this blog. I want to have a space where I can share my thoughts and views on things that matter to me. I want to share stories of my life that have shaped me into the woman I am today. I want to share my journey. I want to create a space where others can also share their thoughts and views and stories and journeys. I want to create community. Turns out blogging is one of the ways I can do that. 

Annndd… bring on the fear. Tamir, who cares what you have to say? Who will read or listen to you? Does it really matter? There are SO many blogs out there….what will make yours different?…etc. 

I can’t really say that there was a magical moment where I felt the “call” to do this. There was no epiphany-type moment. There has been however a nudging in my soul, that this is the right time to do this. So. What did I do to overcome the fear to actually do this? 

I reminded myself of these truths:

There is NO OTHER Tamir.

Those who are interested, will be interested. 

There is room for EVERYONE. 

So, what can you expect from me? Vulnerability. Openness. Stories. Tears. Laughter.

Here we go Familia! Welcome to my blog!
 

Photo: @LorettaRodriguezCo