01/01 Chapter 490 It's time to celebrate
New Year’s felt different this time. For the first time, it was just me and my parents. And of course, you and Rafinha too. Everything felt quiet, gentle, unhurried.
I’ve never really liked New Year’s Eve. I can never seem to find a place I truly want to be. The only one I remember enjoying was the year I spent it with Caique, who was my boyfriend at the time. All the others were… forgettable. But this one, with my parents, felt peaceful in a way I didn’t know I needed.
The original plan was for just you and me to stay at the apartment. I’d buy balloons, we’d curl up together and watch Disney movies. My mom wanted to go to Caraguá, and I’ve already decided I will never spend New Year’s at the beach again. But as always, my momr thought more about her daughters than herself. She felt bad about leaving me behind. She said she was giving up the trip because your grandfather wouldn’t sleep in that heat without air conditioning, but I know her. She stayed because she didn’t want to leave me alone.
She cooked one of those dinners that feel like love on a plate: her perfect bacon farofa, roasted chester, and that almond rice I adore. But she insisted we wait until after midnight to eat.
In return, I got the usual beach gossip from your great-grandfather Wilson’s house and, as always, Débora was at the center of the drama.
They had invited Ane’s family — who live in the back house there in Caraguá — to have dinner and celebrate together. That was the plan. But Débora and Junior, who have recently become obsessed with clean eating and rigid routines, wanted to eat at 10 p.m. instead of after midnight, claiming it was because of the children. Except… Cauã is over 8 and Marina is already 15. They’re not toddlers. At that age, your aunt and I were spending Christmas in that crowded family I once told you about, eating at four in the morning and surviving just fine. People have become overly precious about everything.
I understand that eating late isn’t healthy. I don’t eat late. You don’t either. But Christmas and New Year’s are the only two nights of the year when a huge portion of people — not everyone, of course, but many — break that rule. Two nights. It won’t hurt you.
My grandparents tried to explain that they had already invited another family and agreed on the time. The children threw a tantrum, saying they wouldn’t eat at all and refusing to eat after midnight.
There was another incident too: Cauã kicked a soccer ball too hard and broke your great-grandfather’s wooden birdhouse. My grandfather scolded him — as his grandfather. Débora immediately got upset and said that if her son couldn’t even have the freedom to play ball outside the house, she would leave.
Let’s be honest: my grandpa is picky about his things. He always has been. But he has always been like that, and the house is his. When a child breaks something even by accident, it is the parent’s responsibility to correct and teach. And when that doesn’t happen, I think it’s completely appropriate for the grandfather to step in. He has authority too. And it was his house. And his property. That’s not abuse. That’s boundaries.
Instead of supporting my grandpa, Débora undermined him and threw a fit, threatening to leave.
There’s something I hope you grow up understanding: when we are guests in someone else’s home, we adapt to their rules and their rhythm, even if it’s uncomfortable. That’s exactly why, in San Diego, I chose not to stay a month in my friend Camila’s house and paid for another place instead. Staying there would have meant changing our sleep schedule, our routine, our freedom. We were the guests. We would have had to adapt. And if we don’t want to adapt, then we choose a different place, like I did.
So if the family dinner happens at midnight once a year, you adapt once a year. Or you celebrate elsewhere and create your own rules. It really is that simple.
My mother wanted to eat at midnight, so that’s what we did. And it was a gentle, peaceful New Year’s. After you fell asleep, your grandparents and I watched The Hangover — a comedy trilogy I absolutely love, because truly good comedies are rare, and this one never fails.
And now… here we are, stepping into 2026. It’s hard to believe you were born in 2022 and now we’re entering 2026. It feels like yesterday.
I remember so clearly: a week after you were born came the election and Lula’s inauguration. I cried, thinking that this man might remain president until 2026 — when you’d be four — and that it felt like an eternity away. And now look: it’s election year again, and you are turning four. Time moved so much faster than I ever imagined.
Do I believe he’ll leave power? Probably not. But honestly, I don’t care anymore. I just want to live well. With you.
So I want to thank you for another New Year together. Another year full of memories, stories, moments. Life is lighter with you. Brighter. You were, without question, my greatest antidote to sadness. Life gained color because of you. I am happy.
My wish for this year is simple: that you won’t be hospitalized again, that we have health, laughter, joy and many more stories for me to write in your diary.
My daughter, I love you.
Happy New Year.
02/01 Chapter 491 This is going to be fun
Today was the day we went to Parque da Mônica. At first, I wanted to go on the 30th because the park was already open, but my parents suggested going on the 2nd instead — today — thinking it would probably be emptier, since most people travel during January.
In Brazil, January is vacation month. School holidays happen in January and July, so families usually take time off together. The result? São Paulo becomes wonderfully quiet. No traffic, no chaos — just peace. It’s one of the few times of year the city feels light.
The park opened at 11:30 a.m. The plan was to wake up at 9, leave by 10, take you to get your vaccine first (since the clinic closes early on Saturdays), and then go straight to the park. That way, we’d get everything done in one day. But as always, my parents — especially my mother — can’t stick to a schedule. We left after 10:30, which meant it made more sense to move the vaccine appointment to the next day so we could actually enjoy the park, especially considering we’d spent almost R$800 on tickets. The clinic was also completely out of the way.
The drive took about an hour and fifteen minutes, simply because the park is far. It’s inside a mall in Interlagos, and Interlagos is quite distant from where we live.
The old Parque da Mônica used to be in Pinheiros, much closer. And even though I went only a few times and was very little, I still remember it. Especially the giant roller slide — made of small spinning rollers — that moved slowly enough for kids to feel safe. You had to go through it to enter the park, or use a side entrance. I remember the atmosphere, the feeling. It’s funny how memory works. Sometimes we can’t recall what we did last week, yet we clearly remember things from when we were four years old.
I was genuinely excited to go. For adults, a children’s park isn’t exactly thrilling. But watching your child’s face light up — that joy, so pure and effortless — that’s everything. It fills your chest with warmth.
You fell asleep just before we arrived, while Rafinha stayed awake the whole time, even though you both had woken up early. But the moment we got there, you woke up cheerful and eager. You almost never wake up grumpy — usually you jump out of bed excited for a new day, and I love that about you. I hope that light stays with you for a long, long time.
And then we finally arrived. Everyone was happy — especially because your beloved grandpa was coming too, which was a complete surprise to me and my mom. My father was never really into these things. When we were little, he worked a lot, so it was always my mother who took us to parks. Lack of time plus lack of interest doesn’t lead to many childhood outings.
But with you — with his grandchildren — he’s living everything he missed with his daughters. And it’s beautiful to watch. Today, he’s more present, less overwhelmed by work, and he truly enjoys these moments.
And yet, it was his hard work that built the life we have. Honest work, earned without stepping on anyone. That’s the truth of life: if you’re not born into wealth, effort is necessary. Still, seeing him now fully present in your childhood is deeply touching. He may not have had that chance with us, but he was always a wonderful father.
When we arrived, you took photos with the (slightly fake-looking) Monica and Cebolinha characters, and then we went straight to the carousel. You chose the pink whale. Rafinha chose a little car attached to the ground — he was afraid of the higher rides. Actually, he was afraid of most of them. I think he might take after my sister, who never liked amusement park attractions. Hopefully, you’ll take after me and your dad — we love them.
We went from ride to ride, exploring everything. Thanks to your grandpa being over 60, we were able to use the priority line for some attractions. In Brazil, priority lines include pregnant women, autistic people, people with disabilities, elderly, people with infants, and now even breastfeeding mothers. The list keeps growing, but that’s not today’s topic.
One of the best moments was the Splash ride — a water attraction where you get soaked. The regular line was over an hour long, but we entered through priority and waited less than a minute. The four of us went together. It was so much fun. Rafinha got upset because he got wet, but soon forgot about it. He complained the whole way in, scared as usual. You, on the other hand, surprised me by going on almost everything. There was only one ride you gave up on after the attendant told me I couldn’t go with you — you’d have had to go alone, and that made you hesitate. Understandable. But if I could’ve gone with you, I know you would’ve loved it.
Later, I bought you and your cousin a giant lollipop. R$40 for a lollipop — absurd. I bought it because it was a special day. Still, I regretted it. Rafinha lost interest after a few minutes. You lasted longer (you do love sweets), but it was just too big. Most of it went in the trash. A waste of money. But maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll remember that ridiculous lollipop and smile — and maybe that memory will be worth it.
There was also a live show with actors dressed as the characters. You watched for about 15 minutes. I even tried to convince you to leave early because while everyone was watching the show, the ride lines were empty — but you wanted to stay. So we stayed.
By 5 p.m., we headed home. The park closed at 6, but we had done everything and were clearly exhausted. According to Waze, if we had left 15 minutes earlier, we might have made it to the clinic for your vaccine — but we’d still have arrived just after closing. So it stayed scheduled for the next day.
Before entering the park, we stopped at a small convenience shop in the mall selling nuts and healthier snacks. I bought sweet potato chips. And honestly, the highlight of my day was seeing Rafinha eating Ruffles while you happily devoured your sweet potato chips. Oh no… I’m becoming your father. (Just kidding.) But look at that balance: you ate something healthy at an amusement park — and also had a giant lollipop. And that’s life, right? You never eat lollipops, because I don’t allow it. But this was a special day, a children’s park, a rare moment. Once won’t harm you. I just wish your father could see things that way too — I know he wouldn’t love the idea, even if it was occasional.
To finish the day, you went on the bumper cars with your grandpa. At first, he was hesitant — worried it might be dangerous, that you could hurt your neck. But I showed him how many small children were in line, and reminded him that no adult is going to crash aggressively when kids are nearby. He agreed. Rafinha, unsurprisingly, refused to go. So it was just you and your grandpa — laughing, enjoying, sharing that moment. It was beautiful.
We tried to go to Bacio di Latte (my favorite gelato place), but it was too crowded, so we settled for a McDonald’s cone instead. Rafinha usually refuses ice cream, but he tasted yours — vanilla — and liked it. He started eating with you. And I felt so proud watching you share. Sharing has always been one of your biggest challenges.
We went home tired but full. The park is known as the largest indoor amusement park in Latin America, but honestly, I didn’t find it that big. I have the feeling the old Parque da Mônica was much larger. My parents felt the same. But in the end, you had fun. And that’s what matters.
We came home exhausted but happy, because childhood is exactly this: joy, outings, parks, laughter, sweets, jumping, lightness. I hope I can give you a beautiful, magical, joyful childhood — just like the one I had.
I hope you grow up happy.
03/01 Chapter 492 Hold my hand, we're gonna swim
Today I had planned to meet Cheila (Noah and Sofia’s mom) and my friend Camila here at my parents’ house for a pool afternoon with the kids. We agreed on noon, but of course the girls showed up after 2 p.m. Apparently, it’s not only my parents who struggle with punctuality.
They arrived with the kids and their husbands, and it turned into a really fun afternoon. The only downside was that by the time they got here, you and Rafinha had already been in the pool for over an hour. You were tired, ready to get out, and when the other kids finally jumped in, you didn’t enjoy it as much because you were already done with swimming.
Camila stopped by the market and brought hamburger buns, burgers, and cheese so we could make sandwiches, and Cheila brought the sodas. We split the cost afterward, everything simple and fair.
It was such a pleasant afternoon. We talked a lot, caught up on life. But to my surprise, you didn’t really play with Noah, each of you stayed more in your own little world. Sofia stayed close to Maria Fernanda, since they’re about the same age, and the two of them spent a long time on their phones, just like Noah. So I ended up letting you watch a bit of cartoons on my phone too, even though I don’t love doing that.
Meanwhile, the adults talked and ate and enjoyed the moment.
Lately, our days have been spent almost entirely in the pool. The heat has been unbearable, over 35°C, sometimes reaching 39°C. So every afternoon, there we are, living in the water.
Before my friends arrived, like I had told you, you and Rafinha were already in the pool. We found a pair of arm floaties and tried to put them on you and your cousin. Chaos. One was blue, the other pink, and of course each one was missing its matching pair. As usual, I resorted to my classic mix of threats and emotional bargaining until it worked. At first you cried, but then, when you realized you could float on your own, you started crying and laughing at the same time, completely unsure of which emotion was winning. It was adorable and funny, but I held back my laughter because you hate feeling like someone is laughing at you.
Then I promised I’d buy you princess floaties, and suddenly you were excited and said you would wear them.
And you actually started to like the floaties. You swam back and forth, genuinely enjoying yourself. In a child’s mind, it must feel like magic to float without sinking, so you were completely delighted, even though part of you was still a little annoyed about having been forced to wear them in the first place. After a while, when you asked to take them off, I did.
Rafinha, on the other hand, was impossible. His protest was on another level, so we just let it go.
Still, I felt proud of you for taking that step and ending up liking the floaties. Hopefully, now you’ll feel more confident in pools and enjoy swimming more freely, giving both of you a little more independence.
I stayed in the pool with you the whole time and only got out when my friends arrived, because none of the other adults went in.
But it was another sweet day. And I hope this year brings us many more moments like this and that it will be a beautiful year for all of us.
04-09/01 Chapter 493 Truth Stings
You went to Caraguatatuba with my parents for a few days, and I used that time to work. It was only two days, but I missed you terribly. Meanwhile, you were having so much fun that you didn’t even have time to miss mommy.
They told me you became very attached to Aunt Rosane — mostly because she bought you three Ariel ice creams. Three. Let’s just hope your dad never finds out. You played a lot with Giovanna too and were super outgoing with everyone, which made me so happy. And of course, you had a blast at the beach with your little cousin. Oh, and by the way — Giovanna and Tayna already made peace, even though they both swore the fight was “forever.”
After that, everyone went to Juquehy and I joined you there to spend a few days together. On the first day we didn’t even go to the beach — we stayed in the pool. And now that you had your princess arm floaties, you were absolutely thrilled. You swam for HOURS. Literally hours. You refused to take them off. You learned to love floating and swimming back and forth, and you stayed in the deep pool the whole time. You completely lost interest in the kiddie pool.
Then you learned how to jump into the water with the floaties too, and you entertained yourself with that for ages. Your cousin, though… no luck. He still hasn’t warmed up to floaties.
My dad bought you a floating unicorn swim shirt and bought your cousin a shark one. Let’s see if he agrees to wear it and slowly gets used to the water. We realized he’s genuinely terrified of drowning. My sister says it’s because he’s had several bad falls into the pool at her house, so of course he developed a fear. I even managed to put the arm floaties on him once and let go for a few seconds — he saw he could float on his own, but he still panicked. I felt bad and picked him up, didn’t push it any further. So now our hope rests on the floating shirts. My dad spent over R$300 on the two of them, so hopefully you both love them.
The next day we enjoyed the beach and stayed there for a long while. We went into the ocean again (I’m really outdoing myself — I don’t think I’ve ever gone into the sea this many times in such a short period). Rafinha swallowed seawater twice. Poor thing. No wonder he’s afraid.
You both happily devoured skewered barbecue — chicken hearts, your favorite. (Gross. I hate them.)
After hours at the beach, you, me, my mom and Rafinha went to the pool while my sister stayed behind with her husband and some friends. One of them was Murilo — Giovanna’s ex-boyfriend. Apparently, my sister didn’t get the message and is still hanging out with her niece’s ex.
When we got to the pool, we spent about an hour there with you until my sister arrived with her friends and joined us. Her plan was to head to Maresias afterward to keep the fun going…
The last time we were at the beach together, she casually told me she thought it was wrong that your dad and I would come back from the beach and take you straight to the shower — that we should feed you first, since kids usually come back hungry. Fair enough, she wasn’t wrong. But she kept going. And going. And eventually I said:
“Tayna, enough. If you’re going to start giving me motherhood lessons, I’ll start pointing out things I don’t agree with either — and you won’t like it.”
That stopped her. She felt comfortable enough to give me feedback, and I accept that — as long as it’s said once, respectfully, and not constantly poking the same wound. A good mind understands a message without needing repetition.
So this time, I also felt entitled to give her some honest feedback. I told her she should cherish her time with her son more, because life passes incredibly fast. That sometimes she could skip a VIP lounge at a club, save the money, and instead invest in family trips — take her son to a farm hotel, spend quality time with him and her husband.
She didn’t like that at all. She got angry and started talking nonstop. When my sister feels attacked — even when she isn’t — she becomes defensive and tries to hurt the other person with words. But I’ve had 32 years of experience with this. It doesn’t affect me anymore. Truly.
The problem was that there was another family at the pool — maybe six people — and as the argument escalated, they heard everything. She said, loudly:
“And you? You think you have morals? You didn’t even give your daughter a proper family. You were abandoned. Stan left you. You’re alone.”
I imagine that sounds shocking to anyone reading this. Especially considering I had simply offered her the same kind of feedback she once gave me — calmly, without aggression — because maturity exists.
She kept talking, bringing up your routine again, saying how in her house her son eats, bathes, does everything properly. And I said:
“Okay. But at least my daughter has a mother.”
That’s when things really hit a nerve.
“Why doesn’t she have a mother?” she asked furiously.
At that point, I mentally closed my ears. I truly didn’t hear another insult. I focused on playing with Rafinha — we were spitting pool water as far as we could — and I tuned everything out. The only thing I heard was her saying she was going to take Rafinha to Maresias.
My mom mentioned there was no car seat. My sister said she’d just hold him because it was close.
That’s where the TOTAL irresponsibility begins. I almost said, “That’s why he doesn’t have a mother,” but I held back. How can someone think it’s okay to hold a child in their arms, with a car full of drunk adults, driving on busy summer roads in January and risking his life like that?
In the end, I told my mom to let her do whatever she wanted. And for the first time, my mom actually said it out loud:
“Do whatever you want, Tayna.”
Of course, she didn’t take Rafinha anywhere. There were already six people in the car — how would another child fit? She likes to be begged, to be validated, to have my mom insist. But when that doesn’t happen, she backs down.
She also said she’d go back to Caraguatatuba afterward, to my grandmother’s house. And I told my mom again: don’t insist, don’t beg, don’t plead. Let her do whatever she wants — I guarantee she won’t go.
And that’s exactly what happened. She didn’t go.
When she returned, she was already speaking to me normally again, so I thought maybe she had absorbed something, maybe she’d reflect on it. A woman can dream, I guess.
Later, we went out for ice cream — because in Juquehy, nighttime ice cream is non-negotiable. It’s become tradition.
And despite everything, those were beautiful days. Days of being with you and your cousin — at the beach, in the pool, at home, playing, laughing, eating ice cream. The kind of days where every single second feels worth living.
12-13/01 Chapter 494 Do or die you gotta try
You cried a lot when we parked in front of the school because it wasn’t the place you recognized anymore. You’ve moved up to G3 now, and from G3 onward, the children change units. The first building — the one you attended last year — is for babies and children up to three years old. From age three on, they move to the second unit, where they stay until G5. Sadly, once a child turns six, it’s their final year at the school. But that’s simply how early-childhood schools work. I studied in one just like that too.
So I explained to you that the old building was only for babies — and that now you had been promoted to “big girl.” The two units are very close, barely 200 meters apart, but even so, everything felt unfamiliar to you. Which is completely normal. The location changed. The teacher changed. Some little friends didn’t move along with you. Every year, something shifts in the school world.
Later, when Auntie Marili sent me a photo of you playing Barbie with Lívia and told me you were already feeling better, my heart felt lighter. And the next day she sent another picture — you sitting on her lap, watching a little play with the other children.
Now, besides preschool, I’m enrolling you in swimming lessons twice a week and in ballet. You seem excited about both, but ballet especially — you keep practicing tiny steps around the house, already showing off your budding ballerina moves.
This week I opened the shop alone almost every day while Aunt Rosely was away in Caraguatatuba with my mother. Sales were modest, but considering it’s January, I actually did better than I expected.
Still, there was one day that unsettled me.
It started raining hard, and a delivery driver stopped outside to look at an Olaf plush—probably for his child. But along with him, another man walked into the store. He was heavily tattooed, carried himself roughly, and at first glance matched every stereotype I’d learned to be wary of. He said he was only stepping in to escape the rain, but something in me stayed on alert.
When the delivery driver bought the plush and left, I realized I was alone with a stranger, in the middle of a storm, on an empty street.
So I did what instinct told me to do: I became the warmest, kindest version of myself. I smiled. I made conversation. I spoke about life, about kindness, about how important it is to choose good paths. All the while, quietly, I sent your father a message—he was online—explaining where I was and what was happening, just in case. I even managed to discreetly take a few photos.
When the man mentioned he lived in an area known for being dangerous, my unease deepened. But I stayed calm. I offered him a chair. He sat. I kept talking.
Maybe he never meant any harm. Or maybe, somehow, my strategy worked. All I know is that sometimes, as women, we learn to navigate fear not by confrontation, but by intelligence, by instinct, by emotional agility. We learn to survive moments that shouldn’t belong to us.
I only truly relaxed when Jorgian—the delivery driver who works with me—arrived. Shortly after, the man left. I thanked Jorgian, closed the store early, and went home. The rain was still falling, but at least this time, everything had ended safely.
14/01 Chapter 495 Fighting against all odds
This morning, just as I woke up, I received one of the worst pieces of news I could imagine: the suspension of visas for Brazilians to the United States. At first, the information was unclear. It seemed to apply only to tourist and student visas — meaning that those who already had one wouldn’t be affected, but anyone applying for the first time or trying to renew would be. Since the rumors focused on tourism and study visas, I didn’t panic right away. Still, I went searching for answers.
There were few reliable reports at first, because nothing had yet appeared on the official U.S. government website. But when the confirmation finally came, the news spread quickly across multiple outlets, dominating every headline. And that’s when the truth became clear: it wasn’t about tourist or student visas at all. It was about immigrant visas — visas for those who plan to live and work in the U.S. In other words, it was about my process.
My world collapsed. I didn’t know how to react, what to do, where to begin. The first thing that crossed my mind was my dual citizenship — my Italian passport — and whether it could somehow offer a way around this suspension. With that hope clinging to me, I immediately tried to contact BDV Solutions, the agency handling my EB-3 visa process.
I couldn’t reach them right away — only later that night. And in the meantime, I did what I knew how to do: I suffered. I cried. I called her father. I called my mother and told them the news. I was devastated, unable to believe that this was actually happening. As far as I know, in all of history, immigrant visas to the U.S. have never been suspended for Brazil — and of course this would happen precisely when I’m in the middle of the process.
Lately, I had been thinking a lot about it. The Labor Certification would likely be approved by June or July, which meant we would soon be moving on to the next stage.
I had been waiting patiently for over a year. I wasn’t pressuring the company, I understood that these things take time. I accepted the delays, trusted the process, and simply kept going — quietly hopeful, even happy, because things were moving forward. And then, suddenly, this. A bucket of ice water poured over everything.
I know I cried a lot — even with you right there beside me, while I was telling your father the news over video that night. And the sweetest part of it all was how you kept hugging me, kissing me, telling me not to be sad. It warmed both my heart and his, and somehow made everything feel lighter. It’s incredible how a child’s hug and kiss work like a turbo phone charger — the moment they hold you, your emotional batteries begin to refill.
But all of this feels overwhelming. I’ve been trying to find a legal way to go there for as long as I can remember, and I’ve lost count of how many times that door has slammed in my face. Even when I applied to be an au pair, it fell apart — denied because of “depression,” or a history of it, I don’t even remember anymore. I had another breakdown that day, standing in the subway reading the rejection email. And after that, more no’s, more closed doors, over and over again — while I kept trying, always trying to do everything the right way.
I don’t know how much longer I can endure having that same door shut in my face, reliving the same pain again and again.
Everyone says it’s only a suspension, that things will return to normal soon. But the process is already painfully slow, and the thought of adding more months — or years, who knows — is suffocating.
Your father was being so gentle, saying that in the end everything would work out, that he wished he were here to hold me. Another recharge of energy, just hearing that.
Now Brazil has been listed alongside more than seventy other countries — most of them struggling nations, with fragile economies and difficult living conditions. Seeing Brazil on that list feels humiliating. It only reinforces how far backward we seem to be moving.
One of the reasons cited by the Trump administration was the number of Brazilians who enter on tourist visas and then overstay, breaking the rules and harming those who try to do things properly. And honestly, many people do. But as the BDV Solutions representative said: then why not suspend tourist visas instead? Or make those approvals even stricter? Why target immigrant visas — the ones belonging to people who are actually following every legal step? That’s exactly why their legal team believes this measure won’t hold for long. Weeks, perhaps. A few months at most. We’ll see.
What lifted my spirit was the live session BDV Solutions held the next day. They explained clearly that anyone with dual citizenship would not be affected if their other nationality wasn’t on the list. Which means my process remains intact. They said the visa is only stamped in the passport during the final, consular stage — and at that point, the Italian passport can be used instead of the Brazilian one. That brought back hope. Real relief. Almost joy. And suddenly I felt like I had suffered so deeply the day before for nothing.
But everything pointed to collapse. Sometimes we have to wait for clarity before we let ourselves fall apart. And often, suffering changes nothing at all — it doesn’t alter the outcome of what’s beyond our control. All we can do is search for solutions.
The problem is… searching for solutions to immigrate legally is exactly what I’ve been doing for over a decade. And it’s exhausting.
17-18/01 Chapter 496 This is Going To Hurt
Today I came to São Paulo to reopen the store and spent the whole afternoon working. When I got home, your grandparents told me you had been stung by a bee.
Your first bee sting, poor thing… they said you made quite a scene. I asked how it happened, because bees usually don’t sting without reason — only when they feel threatened. Apparently, one had landed on the grass and you stepped right on it. I can only imagine the fright you must have felt… and my dad quickly pulled the stinger out of your little foot. Of course you cried a lot — and honestly, who wouldn’t? Bee stings hurt.
So let it be officially recorded: your first bee sting happened at three years old, right on the sole of your foot, while playing barefoot on the grass.
As for me, I was stung three times as a child. I still remember one of them — right on my chin. My grandmother used to say I had “sweet blood” because bees were always hovering around me and I got stung far more than most kids. The bees seemed to adore me.
Recently, after seeing an allergist, I had a blood test that showed I have a mild allergy to bee stings. Actually, lately I seem to be reacting to almost every flying insect. The moment they come near me, my nose starts itching in a way I can’t even properly describe. Bees, flies, gnats — I’ve become extremely sensitive to them.
And lately it’s been completely out of control. I used to have no allergies at all, and now my nose and eyes are constantly itchy, which is why I went to the allergist in the first place.
The test results came back normal, which left the doctor puzzled. So he ordered a more specialized exam — the kind only allergists perform (but unfortunately not at his clinic, so I’ll need to find another place). He said that if everything still comes back negative, then maybe it isn’t an allergy at all, but some kind of contact dermatitis. I highly doubt it. It’s probably just another one of those rare little conditions I seem to collect — the kind even doctors struggle to name.
You also had a blood test when you were about one and a half, and everything came back normal. The doctor suggested repeating it now that you’re over three, but drawing blood from you is always such an ordeal that I’ve been postponing it.
So for now, I’m the only one officially suffering from allergies.
But anyway, my little bee… today you learned to dislike bees.
21/01 Chapter 497 So This Is Love
Today your dad comes home from Europe, yay!
For days I’d been thinking about going to the airport to surprise him, especially because of you. I imagined him walking through the gates and finding you there, and I knew that moment alone would make him incredibly happy. The idea filled me with excitement.
But my mom had been at the beach house, and she was only supposed to return today, Wednesday. I asked if she could come back a little earlier so that by 7:10 p.m. we could already be at the airport waiting for your dad. I needed her help because someone had to stay with the car. And, as always, my mom showed up for us.
She arrived early, and a little after six we left the house. We got to the airport about half an hour before your dad finally came out. My mom stayed in the car while I took you into the arrivals area, where dozens of people were waiting for their loved ones: parents, children, grandparents, nieces, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, spouses…
It was strange... I’d been to the airport to pick up your dad before, many times. But that day, for the first time, I truly noticed the scene around me.
I saw a young couple, probably in their twenties. He handed her a small gift that, at first glance, looked like a ring, and for a second I wondered if he was proposing. Either way, she looked genuinely happy.
I saw an older woman, maybe in her fifties, crying as she reunited with her family — a kind of emotional, bittersweet cry, full of something deeper than just joy.
I saw a man around 25 or 30 hugging a woman tightly, both of them crying too.
And what struck me most was how people reacted to each other’s emotions — strangers moved by strangers. There was something profoundly empathetic about it. Quiet, human, beautiful.
I also noticed a family who had brought a few tiny puppies to greet two teenage girls who were coming back. The dogs were part of the welcome — tails wagging, tiny bodies bouncing with joy — as if they, too, understood the importance of the moment.
The place was crowded, especially for that time of night. People filled the arrivals area, waiting, watching, hoping. And your dad took what felt like an eternity to appear. Until finally, he walked through the gate.
I couldn’t capture his exact expression at the precise second he saw you. I was too excited, moving the phone, showing you to him, unable to keep my hands steady. But the video still caught what truly mattered — that beautiful moment when he realized you were there. And it moved him deeply.
Because I was so focused on the scene, on holding the phone, on watching the two of you, I didn’t hear the soft “awws” from the people around us. But later he told me many strangers had reacted, touched by what they saw. And only afterward did I notice that the video had captured those sounds too, which somehow made the memory even more special.
He said it was one of the most beautiful surprises he’d ever received. And I felt so happy I had done it. Because the smallest gestures often carry the deepest meaning. And this one — this moment — is now something you and he will carry with you for the rest of your lives.
But even in the middle of such a beautiful, emotional moment, I felt a quiet ache I didn’t expect. You needed your dad completely — all of his attention, all of his presence — and because of that, we barely managed to exchange a full sentence. And somehow, without meaning to, I felt pushed to the side.
That feeling is painfully familiar.
And it’s exhausting.
Not because anyone did anything wrong. But because some emotions live deep inside us, shaped long before we learn how to name them. They resurface in moments like this — quietly, subtly — reminding us of old wounds we thought we had outgrown.
23/01 Chapter 498 Suddenly Is Hard To Breath
Today was chaotic. I had a million things to do and, right at the finish line, I had an anxiety attack — which is rare for me. Time was slipping through my fingers, I couldn’t get things done, and it felt like everything was happening all at once. Your dad tried to calm me down over the phone, but it didn’t really work.
One thing I’ve noticed about the ADHD medication is that it helps a lot with focus and forgetfulness, but it also seems to trigger anxiety, something I didn’t have before. I’m giving it some time to see if my body adjusts. On the first day I felt extremely nauseous and even threw up; the doctor adjusted the dosage, and today I didn’t feel sick at all. So I’m hopeful the anxiety will ease too.
In the middle of all this, a suitcase arrived from the U.S. I was rushing to finish packing orders because the delivery guy was coming to pick them up, but I also couldn’t be late because you had your swimming trial class at 6 p.m. Your dad had already arrived so we could go together, and I still hadn’t finished everything — not to mention all the side issues popping up along the way. I almost lost my mind.
I was shaking, so I asked your dad to drive. He hesitated a bit, but eventually agreed. He really needs to start driving more, taking us places too, not just me doing it all the time.
I tried to breathe deeply during the drive because I was genuinely nervous. I didn’t even get out of the car when we arrived — it was your dad who went in to pick you up. You immediately noticed it wasn’t me, looked around for me, and he pointed toward the car. The moment you saw me, you relaxed.
This new school unit you’re attending is bigger, but I actually liked the old one more. It was ground level — you could walk in, interact with other kids, play a little. This one doesn’t allow that, and honestly… I miss it.
We rushed as fast as we could so you wouldn’t miss your trial class, but we arrived around 6:05. I already knew it would take time to get you changed, registered, everything. To avoid delaying things further, your dad dropped us off at the entrance while he went to park.
When we walked in, the staff said the class had already started, but they were still warming up so we needed to hurry if you were going to join. She had already mentioned that goggles and a swim cap would be provided; we just needed to bring a swimsuit.
I swore you had my old one at home. I had seen it. But when I went to pack your bag, it was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. All I could find were bikinis and I know they don’t allow bikinis for swim class. Still, I brought one. It was all I had.
I explained the situation to the woman, and she gave me that look, the universal “you’ve got to be kidding me” face. Late and no swimsuit. Before she could say no, I quickly asked if they sold one there. Suddenly, she became much friendlier. She ran to get a swimsuit, I didn’t even ask the price (which later became another source of anxiety), and rushed to change you.
You were hesitant at first and didn’t want to go in. I thought it might be hard, but we managed. The swimsuit looked like it might be tight, and I instantly hated myself because the moment you put your foot in it, I ripped off the tag. You hate tags. And then it hit me: If this doesn’t fit, I’m paying for two swimsuits I don’t even know the price of.
But in the end, it was fine. If you end up swimming there, we’d have to buy one anyway, so it worked out. The only thing you absolutely refused was the goggles, and the instructors respected that.
The first teacher who put you in the pool was already very kind, but the second one — the one who stayed with you and another little girl — was exceptional. While you were sitting on the edge of the pool, she started talking to you, and to my joy, you started responding. Talking. Interacting. From there, everything just flowed.
Your dad took a bit longer to arrive, but when he did and you saw him, you were so happy.
The pool wasn’t deep, and the instructor alternated between you and the other gir, exactly like I remembered from my own swimming lessons. Just being there, the smell of the pool took me right back.
I swam for many years. I started very young, around two years old, and then returned when I was twelve, swimming alongside my sister and my best friend at the time — Raquel, who is still one of my closest friends today. We weren’t learning to swim; we already knew how. We were learning more advanced strokes.
That smell, though it’s exactly the same. And it brought back a memory not from when I was two, but from when I was twelve. My mom would take the three of us, and after practice we’d leave starving because swimming makes you hungry and sleepy and we’d always stop to eat a grilled cheese next to the McDonald’s by the gym. Such good times.
You grew more confident as the class went on, but you kept looking back to make sure mom and dad were watching and approving. You always want to show when you’ve learned something new.
Watching you kick your little legs, floating on your back with that tiny swim cap on… it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It really looked like you were enjoying it.
The only downside was the length of the class: 50 minutes. But 10 minutes are for warm-up (probably to avoid cramps), and another 10 are for playtime at the end so the actual lesson is 30 minutes. The plan I’m considering is twice a week for R$331 a month. It’s not cheap, but when you divide it by eight classes, it’s about R$42 per class. Seen that way, it doesn’t feel as heavy.
What I really loved is that there’s no fixed schedule. You can take your child twice a week, Monday through Saturday, from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. You just check in online 24 hours in advance and that’s it. This flexibility is amazing. If you’re enrolled for Monday and Wednesday and something happens on Wednesday, you don’t lose the class or the money. You just go another day that same week. I loved that.
Now we wait for my little fish — sorry, my little mermaid — to learn how to swim and ditch the floaties. Your dad and I loved watching you in the water. I’m going to enroll you.
The only thing missing now is ballet, which you’ve been asking for nonstop. But Aunt Marili said ballet only starts in the first week of March, so we’ll have to wait.
So many extracurricular activities, huh?
Such a little lady already. 💙
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário