The only respite my mother ever got was when my father went on a business trip. He was a very successful businessman, and he traveled frequently. Every time he departed, I prayed to God that he would not return from his trip. With each departure, calm settled over our home; We were not required to walk on eggshells and everyone was free to express themselves. We camped-out in my mother's room every night and she taught us, nurtured us, sang to us and told us stories. She asked us to be patient and to try to understand our father - he was drinking because he was under a lot of pressure at work, she insisted.
But with his every return, the fear came back and the pure joy we felt being around our mother departed.
Wanting to escape from the harsh reality at home, I became very passionate about dancing and school. I excelled in school and danced ballet better than any girl I knew. I reveled in those moments when my ballet teacher selected me to do solos at the end-of-the-year recitals.
When I was about nine years old, I found my best friend crying at a local club we attended. I asked her what was wrong, and she explained that her parents were getting divorced. I had never heard of such a thing and her explanation enlightened me: I had finally found a way out for my mom. I ran home to tell her the good news. However, she told me that divorce was impossible because our religion did not permit it and it was sinful to even think about it. I acquiesced, but something inside my heart told me that the God I knew could not possibly want this man, my father, to continue causing us so much harm.
My parents finally separated when I was 13 years old. I had seen my father with his mistress in the parking lot of a convenience store, his car windows foggy from the heat they were making inside. My first impulse was to knock on the window, but I was afraid for my life so I just went home and told my mother. She simply nodded her head and spoke briefly about men's universal needs and nonchalantly described cheating as something men just do. Once again, I refused to accept her explanation as a fact of life.
As a teenager, I dated many boys but I always made sure that they loved me more than I loved them. In that way, I avoided getting hurt. A year after my parents divorced, I quit dancing. I finally understood that my mother was trapped in an abusive marriage not only because of our religion, but also because she couldn't be financially independent - she did not have a college degree or a profession. I realized that I could not support myself with dancing and so I developed a new passion for law and justice.
I became pregnant with my first son when I was 19, attending my first year of Law School in Brazil. I embraced motherhood with all my might. I breastfed for a year and didn't return to school for three semesters. My friends told me I was making a mistake. They predicted that I would never go back to school and would become a housewife. Something inside my heart told me they were wrong and that I should follow my instinct and nurture my baby.
My child's father and I separated when Vinnie was only nine months old. We remain close friends and he is a part of Vinnie's life. However, the failure of our relationship was very hard for me. Although we did not fight or hurt each other in any way, I was devastated at the thought of having been wrong. I thought that I had learned better from my mother's experience.
Nevertheless, I refused to give up on true love and commitment. I simply knew there was someone out there who was meant for me. And I knew that my life was not gong to resemble my mother's in any way. I went about my life: I went to school, worked as an English teacher and translator and enjoyed being with Vinnie, my son. I trusted that God was watching over me, for He had blessed me in so many ways.
Then, during my last semester of Law School, I met my husband. It was magical. We married two years later and moved to the United States so that he could do his Master's. We decided to have kids right away because we both wanted to. My second son, Gus, was born when Vinnie was seven years old, and our third son was born when Gus was two years old.
Now that my youngest son is four years old, I have once again started thinking about work. The thought of working again does not scare me. I know that because I was able to nurture three magnificent boys and endure all the fevers, stitches, wrestling matches, viruses, farting contests and mid-term exams these past years have demanded; no job will be too challenging for me. I can now say that I am truly ready for anything that life brings me. Motherhood is a lesson you never stop learning. But it is also the lesson that prepares you for all of life's hurdles.
I have also started dancing again.
Although I may sound like the heroine in this brief story of my life, the real hero is actually my husband and the love that we share. Had it not been for his endless support, both financial and emotional, I would never have been able to care for my family the way I do. I certainly would not have been able to dedicate as much time to our boys and to our relationship. Our marriage is a true partnership and our love is the most satisfying feeling I have ever had. I know he cherishes me and appreciates me, because he never fails to show me his feelings through his words and actions. It was our love that made me realize that it was alright to give one hundred percent of myself, to trust once again, to love wholeheartedly and to live without fear.