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a just-in-case letter to my son

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Dear Son, Today is Mother’s Day – and the day you woke up with a fever and tested positive for Covid-19. Words cannot describe how it feels to be your mom, how much I am enjoying the cuddles today, but also how I worry and wish I could take away your pain and discomfort, even if it is just fevers and a runny nose. Your dad and I love you more than you will ever know or understand. The main reason I’m writing this letter, however, is to leave you some words in the very unlikely event that something irreversible happens to me, your dad, or both. For the record, we both fully plan to be around to support (and annoy you) until you grow old and have your own kids and grandkids. But if you are receiving this letter and we are not physically here, know that your dad and I have thought about every possible scenario and plan to protect you, and we will be walking by your side and watching over you all of your life in spirit. We know that life will not be the same if we are gone and that you wil
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blessed

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The world has changed and my world has changed since I last wrote here. We are now in the middle of a global pandemic with COVID-19. Since mid-March our friends, family, and the rest of the prudent world have been "sheltering-in-place" (avoiding leaving the house as much as possible and avoiding social contact.) The lucky ones have someone to shelter with, masks on hand to take a walk outside, a steady paycheck, and a work-from-home-able job. 33 million in the US are now newly unemployed - a historic low worse than the Great Depression. I am one of the lucky ones, and I woke up this morning feeling extra grateful this Sunday morning. Alejandro was up at 4:30am to round at the hospital and jumped right back into bed when he got home at 8am. I watched him sleep for a little (not creepy at all) and soaked in the moment, grateful to have him healthy and safe beside me, and oh-so-grateful that he is the father of my child. Then I walked to the bathroom and took a moment to eye
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shaking the bars

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"I'm reminded," he begins, "of a famous cartoon. It's of a prisoner, shaking the bars, desperately trying to get out--but to his right and left, it's open, no bars." He pauses, allowing the image to sink in. "All the prisoner has to do is walk around . But still, he frantically shakes the bars. That's most of us. We feel completely stuck, trapped in our emotional cells, but there's a way out-as long as we're willing to see it." I close my eyes and take a breath. I start by picturing the prison, a tiny cell with drab walls. I picture the metal bars, thick and gray and rusty. I picture myself in an orange jumpsuit, furiously shaking those bars, pleading for release. I picture my life in this tiny cell with nothing but...the prospect of a dismal, constrained future. I imagine screaming, "Get me out of here! Save me !" I envision myself looking to my right, then to my left, then doing a double take...as the realization hits
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papá de plantas

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Me siento inspirada hoy para escribir en Español. Acabo de terminar mi classe de español con Mercedes esta mañana, y, sabes que he estado apprendiendo Espanol por casi un ano ahora?! Me encanta me instructora Mercedes. Nos hemos convertido en buenas amigas porque cada semana, nos reunimos en Panera y hablamos sobre todos - la vida, la familia, la amistad, la politica, y aún cosas privadas. En español. Pero no importa! Bueno. Quería escribir sobre una buena memoria de mi esposo hoy. La semana pasada, he tenido mucho tiempo libre y por eso, he estado recogiendo las plantas. Las plantas me dan mucha alegría en la casa. Me encanta el sentimiento fresco y lleno de crecimiento que las plantas prestan. He empezado a cultivar cebollas verdes, y ayer, quería muchismo salir con Alejandro a Target para comprar algunas macetas para ellas. Desafortunadamente, olvidamos ese plan hasta las once de la noche cuando llegamos a casa despues de estudiar. Le dijé a Alejandro "No te preocupes. Me v
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gifts from the universe

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I started reading this book called "Maybe you should talk to someone" by Lori Gottlieb and I loved it so much I stayed up until 3am last night/this morning reading it. Lori writes about her work as a therapist in tandem to her own experience getting therapy after a huge breakup, and ladies and gents, she just gets it. She is unapologetically honest - she allows herself to wallow, she pokes fun at herself, and then she gives herself credit for moments of clarity in a way that allows the reader to grow with her. She is truly an artful story teller. I love that her way with words is unpretentious, classy, and subtly hilarious. I want to post-it my house with her quotes. Suffice it to say, she is helping me heal and she doesn't even know it. I got the book rec from a friend named Vaibhav via random text (a few weeks before I publicized anything about my parent's divorce). He was my acting intern medical student when I was 3rd year resident in the medical ICU. I remember
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the strength surrounding me

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After a rough couple of days, today has been a good day. I'm sitting in Coffee Tree Roasters. The temperature is perfect and sunlight is pouring in from the open store front. There is conversation all around. People feel happy. And I'm actually in one of those pleasant study moods where I'm curious about the material I'm reading, I'm okay with my slow but steady pace, and I'm okay with intermittent distractions (like writing this blog post). I wrote an Instagram post a few days ago where I was more open than usual. I wrote about dealing with my parent's divorce, the grief and feeling of death that has enveloped my family, and how I found solace in the gratitude I had for my bag of groceries that day. I ended the post asking people to not post "stay strong girl messages" and only post what they were grateful for. It was super fucking vulnerable and I immediately regretted posting it. People who didn't know me started responding, reaching ou
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consistency & life goals

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My mom has been traveling Italy with her friends this last week. During the day, she sends me some of the most breathtaking photos I have ever seen, and for brief moments, I feel this comforting sense of calm and normalcy. Like Mom has come back. Mom is strong. Mom is surviving . At night, though, reality sets in and the texting and late night crying begins. She's not sleeping. She is hopeless and lonely. She can't imagine ever being happy again. I can't be a replacement for dad. I remind her too much of dad. She is grieving . And it feels like there is no space for me to grieve. I tell her I am peddling the water everyday, choosing to stay afloat and choosing to believe that wave after wave will not pull me or her under. I tell her that she is doing so good already, that I am proud of how far she's come, that I'm amazed that she can even get out of bed everyday to put one foot in front of the other. I tell her all the cliches I know, that time heals all, all the f
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