My life, like that of many mothers - do not say anything new, "is divided into a before and after that heavenly moment where I found myself a sea of \u200b\u200bscreaming, blood, placenta, feces and life. Then, after the extreme pain, that a smiling nurse put me in the chest a little thing agelatinada, a hot and blue ball that smelled like my body inside and opened a deep mouth to mourn with all the force of his lungs just released. Sinead O'Connor - another woman who went mad after being mother sings in an old but memorable song that all babies are shouting the name of God. I made up twice. First in a February afternoon, then early in the morning of November 1: my two babies, my two brand new meatballs hot and shouted at birth the name of God with all the force of life begins with all the fear that must give birth. The fear of seeing the light on who knows where, to come and do not know why. And then followed with the same force crying during the first months. According to Sinead O'Connor babies still crying after birth because they can not remember the name of God. It will not be an expert in pediatrics, but I believe him. I spent sleepless nights comforting babies without a wink. Antiaircraft force of siren, my babies screamed to the world that they were hungry, cold, colic, fear. Nights spent breastfeeding, trying to calm an infinite hunger seemed to be hungry for something else. In every sleepless I turned away from myself. I left.
My life, like that of many mothers - do not say anything new, I repeat, is divided into a before and after that moment I saw the light of those eyes. Since then everything else seems secondary. I am a better person from that moment. I am the daughter of my children because the day they were born also born again and now we are going through childhood intertwined. Happy to return to certain games, but with the restlessness of go back through some fears. I am a better person, however, for the sake of my kids would kill and lie without any remorse. I like to find criminals in my thoughts for the good of my children. Far from feeling guilty, I feel strong. From insects, through foul creatures, without stopping not even in the human, eliminate anything that poses a danger to my children. I am a better person in a way that is beyond good and evil.
I am no longer an individual, I am not indivisible from that minute delivery sublime I'm heading, I have several hearts beating at the same time. I am not a citizen of any place, country or flag: I live in the service of two princes from distant planets, asteroids, small and sublime. Singing their songs of candy, I get to sign their flags drawn with crayons, believe in their stories, they prepare their favorite foods, I read stories and more stories. They say the mother is home, but I like to invest the said: My children are my homeland. By their smiles, I joined the army more brave. They say that the mother tongue, but a lie. The language we speak is marked by its breaths. I am a citizen
imperfect: instead of thinking about laws or collective spend hours playing queens chick sleeping or English. Instead of reading the newspaper, spend hours imagining silly with my kids: if we had a parrot in this house, what would ... and all sorts of things no more useful because we have a parrot, or because the parrots on this side of the world speak less than the tropics.
I have no autonomy, I'm not. Not all the time I have wanted to write, I can not work more hours or to stay sleeping late on a Sunday morning because I claim two snacks. I leave my ego, though. Labor is also from a same, to live beyond the ego, leave, deconcentrated, stop navel-gazing, divided into more than two halves. I know one day my children will leave, I will be alone again myself, sleep with loose leg every morning, but I also know that then I will be next. I will never be what I was. I will always be starting.
not lie: it is also literature, love, life, survival. But at the moment of truth, the only thing I care about are those two pairs of eyes. Then there is everything else, including myself.
My life, like that of many mothers - do not say anything new, I repeat, is divided into a before and after that moment I saw the light of those eyes. Since then everything else seems secondary. I am a better person from that moment. I am the daughter of my children because the day they were born also born again and now we are going through childhood intertwined. Happy to return to certain games, but with the restlessness of go back through some fears. I am a better person, however, for the sake of my kids would kill and lie without any remorse. I like to find criminals in my thoughts for the good of my children. Far from feeling guilty, I feel strong. From insects, through foul creatures, without stopping not even in the human, eliminate anything that poses a danger to my children. I am a better person in a way that is beyond good and evil.
I am no longer an individual, I am not indivisible from that minute delivery sublime I'm heading, I have several hearts beating at the same time. I am not a citizen of any place, country or flag: I live in the service of two princes from distant planets, asteroids, small and sublime. Singing their songs of candy, I get to sign their flags drawn with crayons, believe in their stories, they prepare their favorite foods, I read stories and more stories. They say the mother is home, but I like to invest the said: My children are my homeland. By their smiles, I joined the army more brave. They say that the mother tongue, but a lie. The language we speak is marked by its breaths. I am a citizen
imperfect: instead of thinking about laws or collective spend hours playing queens chick sleeping or English. Instead of reading the newspaper, spend hours imagining silly with my kids: if we had a parrot in this house, what would ... and all sorts of things no more useful because we have a parrot, or because the parrots on this side of the world speak less than the tropics.
I have no autonomy, I'm not. Not all the time I have wanted to write, I can not work more hours or to stay sleeping late on a Sunday morning because I claim two snacks. I leave my ego, though. Labor is also from a same, to live beyond the ego, leave, deconcentrated, stop navel-gazing, divided into more than two halves. I know one day my children will leave, I will be alone again myself, sleep with loose leg every morning, but I also know that then I will be next. I will never be what I was. I will always be starting.
not lie: it is also literature, love, life, survival. But at the moment of truth, the only thing I care about are those two pairs of eyes. Then there is everything else, including myself.
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