I have to admit that I was never the type of Oprah fan that watched her show every day or even taped it or stayed up at night to see what it was unless a friend called and said “you have to see this!”. I never tried to get on any of the Oprah’s favorite thing giveway shows because I figured only the people who had the time to watch, send letters and email had a chance at those shows anyway. Once in a while I would catch it on a holiday or during the time I was home with my newborn (Janai at the time), and a topic would be profound for me, but not often. However, I will never forget the show she did on Mother’s Day interviewing some of the young victims of September 11th. They had not been killed, but their mothers had, and some of them not even old enough to speak would never be able to celebrate the holiday with their Mothers. It really made me get off the pity pot that day and made me realize how blessed I was to have had my mom in my life for several decades.
Independence Day
I had such a fun, fulfilling and joyful holiday weekend, and if you experienced just an iota of the bliss that I did, you had a great time too! I surprised myself because I usually don’t celebrate this holiday with the same energy and excitement as it appears the rest of the country celebrates. I love the fireworks and the fun that Independence Day brings, and I am so thankful that I am living in these United States, and was born in the “City of brotherly love and sisterly affection”, but my people were in no way celebrating their independence over two hundred years ago. My Irish ancestors were about to get kicked out of Ireland for being Protestants, my African ancestors were too often advertised as strange fruit and my Native ancestors were being diminished by European disease. Not much to celebrate.
I don’t know what prompted me to make plans to go out and enjoy the town. I think I was just ready for a chance to let my hair down (or pick it out) and have some grown-up fun for a change. The end of the school year and the beginning of the summer for me meant battling a mountain of chlorine-laced swimsuits and towels, scheduling summer camps, filling out scholarship applications and transporting my little ones from one place to another. In addition, I am an entrepreneur so I have to somehow satisfy my clients between drop off and pick up because the rest of the day until sundown at least, is a wash. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my kids, my independence or my lifestyle for anything – as exhausting as it is – but summer is no vacation for me. I am truly looking forward to a quick jaunt to the beach next weekend and if all goes well I’ll be able to manage a few day trips or long weekends to the beach with the kids before the summer is over.
Yet even with all of the stress these past few weeks, I experienced such clarity over the holiday weekend. I couldn’t help to think of how free I felt, and I also meditated on the things that I still have yet to release from my life. A little more than ten months ago, with the help of my friends and my Creator, I freed myself from an unhappy marriage, a controlling relationship, the threat of foreclosure, and I am still free. I am free from obsessing about another person’s actions and reactions to their actions. I am free from worrying about my children’s welfare, I am free from the pain of a cold, lonely relationship. And I am free from financial instability and an incurable need to fix the situation. I feel like the Universe gave me this weekend to celebrate my own personal freedom, and I took complete advantage of it. Each time I was presented with the opportunity to take care of myself and to celebrate myself and feel good about myself, I took it and didn’t look back. I spent quality time with my kids, I bought a cute white skirt to show off my legs (I don’t usually do white, but it’s the thing for the summer and I’ve gotta flaunt them while they still look good! ), I made time for some unbelievable pampering and gave myself permission to go out on the town for some adult fun and it didn’t stop until my eyes closed from exhaustion as the sun began to rise in the early morning hours of July 4th. Free!
I celebrated Tonita’s independence from the woman that she had allowed everyone else to define. Freedom from others’ expectations, judgements and unsolicited remarks. And I felt connected to the immense energy that was out in the Universe over the past week, and I prayed for any obstacles to be removed that blocked me from my passion, my dream occupation and my purpose for being here. And I am watching that process unfold one day at a time. I took a look back at all of the negative energies I have released over the past year, and am committed to focusing my light and love towards the things that I still have yet to set free. I still have parts of myself to set free. I want to free the Tonita that walked four miles a day, took time to eat healthy and maintained a healthy weight before people around her started telling her she looked too skinny. The person inside this body who is not afraid to show the world how fabulous she is. I want to break free from an occupation that has been financially secure, but in reality has held captive the joy, the passion, the ecstasy that comes from doing something that you’ve always dreamed of doing – something that makes you smile or cry thinking of it, and something that is so pleasurable that it doesn’t feel like a job – where you are appreciated for your gifts, and not frustrated because you feel some days that you have to sell your soul to the devil to survive and get the next check. I am committed to freeing my mind of the “I should have’s”, the “what-ifs” the “as soon as” and the “next year I’ll start” – the words that keep my unlimited happiness chained up and my passion for life incarcerated. It’s time to make my escape plan, gather my tools and start chipping away at the brick wall in my subconscious mind.
So this Independence Day weekend was not just a celebration of all the work I’ve done to escape the inauthentic me, but incredible inspiration to continue to recover Tonita. I celebrate me today and I look forward to the celebrations that are to come because I still have a lot of work to do and some small battles within yet to fight. Losing weight won’t be easy. Building an entirely new business from the ground up won’t be easy. Downsizing a business and transitioning from a career I’ve embraced for several decades won’t be easy. Trusting another person with my heart won’t be easy. Maintaining my sanity when those around me are choosing to swim in it, won’t be easy.
But I believe in my heart and soul that it will be much more fulfilling.
And I’m ready for it. I’m looking forward to the after-party where I will dance like nobody’s watching. And this time, I hope you’ll be there to join me.
Happy Freedom Day to me!
My Superhero – A note of thanksgiving for all sons
I know that I am so much more than just a mother, but I also know that being a mother is such an important role and I cherish and honor the role that my God entrusted upon me when life was formed in my womb.
I was on the beautiful, serene beaches of Puerto Rico when I suspected that the few months of skipping a pill here and there had caught up to me. I had gained five pounds in about two days and I knew I hadn’t eaten that much shrimp. The mango daiquiri were starting to make me feel a little nauseous before I even had enough to matter, and I was so exhausted that I could hardly keep my eyes open most of the time. I wasn’t sure, but my intuition knew that something was not right. My friend suggested I take a pregnancy test and when I saw the results I thought – oh crap!
I thought that it was the worst thing to happen to me at this time. I had just celebrated my 36th birthday, was just laid off from my corporate job and my mother was terminally ill. Bad timing.
When I look back upon that time, I now see how my son’s birth was my saving grace. I truly believe that my mother prayed for me to have someone to fill the void left by her loss – someone to love and nurture. I know in my soul that my son’s presence was the only reason I took care of myself during the months that I was my mother’s primary caretaker. If I didn’t have to consider the growing fetus, I know I would have skipped a lot of meals, lost a lot of sleep and maybe even engaged in some unhealthy behaviors to dull the pain. Once we were told there was nothing more that they could do for mom and she was placed on hospice, I took over. I managed her nursing care, her finances, her medication and her nutrition – all while morning sickness was taking a strong hold of my entire body. Every day I drove 30-40 minutes to my mother’s house, struggling to hold down my lunch and exhausted from the little boy who was quickly growing inside of me.
There was an unspoken fear amongst my family and future in-laws of me losing the baby. I was still in my first trimester when I stood over the casket , praying to be awakened from this horrible nightmare. Everyone was so worried about me attending the funeral and how the stress and grief would affect the baby. I was too but I had no other choice. I was the caretaker, the administrator of the will and the only girl. Everyone else saw the pregnancy as I did at first. Bad timing. But in hindsight, my son was my superhero. He was strong enough to survive all of the stresses that I was under during the fragile stage of life that he was in at that time; strong enough to save me from myself and from the destructive behavior that I could have engaged in to numb myself from the pain. Strong enough to sustain the pressure of childbirth.
James Franklin Hilley III was born at 10:44pm, exactly four months before my birthday. Although his heart rate dropped significantly three times before they decided on the emergency C-Section, he was healthy, strong, and very alert when he was born at 8lbs, 13ozs. He amazed me then and continues to amaze me now. I know that all moms brag about their kids and they are all the most amazing kids ever. I get it. But I do believe that children come here with their own agenda, with a purpose and the gifts necessary to live out their purpose.
I write this not just to honor my son and thank my Creator for entrusting me with this angel, but also for my brothers, my nephews, my male friends and even my father – to confirm for all men who may doubt, that they will always hold a most precious place in their mothers’ heart, regardless of how their mother may or may not have expressed it. Most sons think of the daughter as the mom’s favorite because they as a female, have more in common with the mother. I thought the same thing too until I gave birth to my own daughter, and I now know that the bond you have with your son is a different kind of special.
Maybe it’s because as men in the making, they feel they are your protectors, and stay close by your side. Maybe it’s because as a woman you feel you know how to mold him into the man who any woman would love. Maybe it’s just how the Creator designed it. How history destined it. For our Princes to stand by their Queen.
I know that at eight years old I still have a lot of trials to go through with this little boy before he reaches manhood, and I pray that I have the fortitude to make the right decisions and the ability to provide him with the right balance of love and surrender that he needs to grow. He is brilliant and silly and sensitive and stubborn, strong and fragile yet I know that he will do some great things in his lifetime to contribute to this world.
And I know that he was sent here to save me. And like a true damsel in distress, I am eternally grateful.
The reason for the season – Reposted to welcome Baby M!
Sitting here in the lobby of the Lankenau Hospital, so many feelings come up. I am waiting for my husband to finish a routine follow-up procedure and thinking of all of the work and client phone calls I need to make, when a song comes over the loud speaker in the lobby to bring me back to the present moment. I hear Brahm’s Lullaby- which I still sing to my two and a half year old as she falls off to sleep – and it takes me back. The attendant at the lobby desk says that the song is played in the lobby each time a baby is born here. I have given birth at this very hospital twice, and never knew that it was the custom here. What a beautiful and thoughtful gesture! Announcing the birth of a new soul into this world! I have always felt that the miracle of birth is not taken lightly here. I received such special treatment here when I was admitted to prepare for the birth of each of my children. My first born, James IIIrd was an emergency c-section because he was too anxious to get out and there wasn’t enough room for him to get out naturally! What a blur it was when I was whisked away to the emergency room and told to sign some papers as they unplugged me and pushed my bed down the hallway. I still remember the moment they placed him in my arms. We take for granted this gift from God. A new beginning. So many women never get to experience this feeling and then others do and have it taken away from them in a moment’s notice for reasons they may never know.My daughter was named Janai, because it means God’s answer, or a gift from God. After three miscarriages, I asked God to give me a clear sign as to whether I should give up my quest to become a mother again. This was the last try one way or the other. Six weeks after the positive pregnancy test, the ultrasound showed a blood clot which meant another possible miscarriage. I was a mess. The doctor sent me home to rest for a week, promising that everything would be fine. I tried to believe him. I prayed a lot and was grateful that I was able to take the time to rest. A week later, the doctor and nurses were shocked that the the blood clot had completely disappeared. A miracle. Eight months later, I cried again as I watched my husband hold up this nine pound beautiful bundle of great joy. The birth of Jesus Christ, for me, is the reason for my celebrations this time of year. Our family celebrates both Christmas and Kwanzaa and I send Hanukkah cards to my friends. I am not stuck on one type of religion and have made it a point to learn about all types of beliefs, but I can’t deny the miracles and the magic that I experience during the Christmas season. With the economy the way it is, pinching pennies, making tough choices and sacrifices, it helps to think of a higher power and the beauty, the strength, the power and the promises that the belief in someone so loving and powerful brings. I get so emotional still hearing the Christmas carols that we played in our home while wrapping presents during the week of Christmas. I can’t wait to see the look on the children’s faces when they open up that “perfect” gift. I can’t wait to bake cookies and sing carols with them on Christmas eve as my husband and I fight over who will eat Santa’s cookier. I was so excited to see the first big snow fall and couldn’t wait for my kids to open their eyes and see the snowfall. The beauty of each individual snowflake, the crisp, white snow and cool, fresh air. The ground is cleansed. Rebirth. A new beginning. We cannot look back to the past and change anything that we or our parents have done, but with each new birth and each new season, we can start anew, search ourselves, our emotions, our hearts and our souls and make a choice to do something different. Challenge yourselves this season to take one person or one project or one vision and choose to do something different with that person or thing. Think about how you can make the relationship new, how you can put a smile on that child’s face or re-submit that business plan or revamp that project. Just for today, how can I experience a rebirth?
I still remember a poem that I wrote in second grade about the change of seasons, “The Colored Leaves”
The colored leaves so soft and pretty
Falling on the ground, oh what a pity
Leaves of beauty like a colored carpet
An orange bonfire or a golden trumpet
But when Jack Frost comes and paints like an artist
The colored leaves are buried all tight
Like a frosted winter blanket at night.
Sometimes I wonder why I am here in this particular place at this particular time. Now I know that I was supposed to hear that lullaby, and to be reminded of the time I spent here as God’s gift to me to be abler to start over and try once again to do it better than I did the last time. Now each time I hear that lullaby, I will stop and think about how I can show my gratitude to my God for the treasures that he has given to me. I watch a new family escorted to their car with their brand new baby. Before I finish writing, I hear the lullably two more times. God has given us another change to get this world right. To walk in the light and not the dark. To encourage one more soul to give back to this world, the gift that their life represents. One lullaby at a time.
Happy Holidays!
Toni's Room 