Thirdy's Birth Story

After I learned I was pregnant with Thirdy, I doc-shopped for an OB-gynecologist. I went to 4 female doctors (all 40 and above) before I finally settled on the 4th one, not so much because I was comfortable with her but because she was highly recommended by my husband's cousin.

Even from the beginning, I wanted to do two things for Thirdy: 1) to bring him out to the world naturally, meaning through vaginal birth, and 2) to exclusively breastfeed him for the first 6 months of his life.

My due date was August 3, 2015. By the night of August 1, I did my obligatory trip to the toilet before hitting the sack, and I was alarmed to see a 'bloody show' when I wiped off. But I was not in any pain yet. My husband, mother, and I hurriedly went to West Visayas State University Medical Center. It was my hospital of choice because I was an employee of the university, and it was just a stone's throw away from our place. The OB on duty did an 'IE' on me. After which, she held up her blood coated fingers and asked, "Amu ni?" I just nodded my head. She told me I won't be giving birth yet as I am not dilated enough. I either have to go home or wait for a room to be available, so we could be accommodated in case my time comes. We decided to do the former and had a room booked. But when we got to the car, my husband declared that we're not going back there. He was angry that he was asked to buy Vaseline and gloves for the IE. Why can't they just use their supplies first then we pay them up after? I said it's a government hospital, what do you expect? So, we decided to just go to Medical City once I start going through labor.

Early morning the next day, August 2, which was a Sunday, we did a bit of walking at Esplanade. I figured that I need to get moving and build my stamina and endurance before labor comes. We attended Mass at St. Clement's after, and that was when I felt a steady beat of tolerable pain that would come in every 10 minutes or so. I didn't mind it and even ate a hearty lunch at my in-laws in Gran Plains. By 2 PM, the pain was gaining in frequency, but I could still do a bit of exercise and laugh with my family. My husband timed the pain, and when he consulted his female cousins about it, he was told to go the hospital right away because those were labor pains already. So we rushed to Medical City by 3 PM, only stopping by at our place to get my stuff, and there I was stationed at the ER.

After an hour or so, I was wheeled to the labor room. I was still able to eat my dinner even with the pain, and my doctor said I didn't look as if I was going to give birth. I beamed at that. I was proud of myself. The pain was chicken feed that at one point, I told myself that going through labor is not that tough at all. Why women opt to have an epidural and selective Caesarean section was beyond me. I was cocky to say to give me labor anytime of the day.

But by 9 PM, the pain was coming in waves each bigger and fearsome than the other. I felt as if my stomach was on fire. I did everything to help me drench the fire: walked around the room, did some leg exercises, talked to the nurse, lie down, read and memorized the medicines in the cabinet, opened and closed the door that divided the delivery room from the labor room (from which I was scolded).

By 11 PM, I was becoming scared. The pain was no longer tolerable. My bag of water burst. I was wet all over, and the midwife on duty helped me change. It was then I understood why women would ask for epidural, why they would curse their husbands and throw invectives at anyone on sight during their labor, why they'd rather go through CS... I understood. The pain was like no other I have experienced.

By 1 AM of August 3, I was wheeled to the delivery room. My legs were placed on stirrups and my nether region was spotlighted. I was so tired already, but I was asked to do a more tedious work: the pushing. I pushed and pushed for an hour or so, but there was no progress. There was something wrong with my pushing: they would ask me to hold the push for 10 seconds, but I would stop at 6 or 7. Thirdy's head was not showing. My OB told me that she has now indications for a Caesarean procedure. She asked me if that was fine. They started dressing me and cleaning me up for the surgery, but I was tight-lipped. I did not want to answer. I wanted to still go through the normal delivery but I was also torn because I was dead tired, and I just wanted to get it over with. CS was the easy way, but I didn't say anything to the Doc.

So they called my husband to come. There I was in all my naked glory squirming in pain, and the OB and my husband were just a matter-of-factly discussing the options in front of me. When they were finished, I was expecting my husband to give her the green light for the CS, but to my surprise, he cheered me on while I was pushing. He kept shouting, "Kaya mo yan, Ga!" I was so angry at him that I was strangling him in my head. I didn't want to say anything because that would mean another minus from my strength. But his cheering probably did help. After 30 minutes, Thirdy's head crowned, and my husband was ushered from the delivery room. It went easy from there. I pushed for 15 minutes more and I remember as if my whole being opened up when Thirdy came out from me. I also remember that when I was pushing, I felt as if all the mothers in the world from generations past were with me, sharing my pain. At the same time, there was that feeling of honor to be the one to give life to another human being. In the midst of pushing, I felt a certain kinship and connection with all women. The pain of childbirth is the lot that we have to all go through, the women it seems were telling me. If I were not in pain, I'd probably have goosebumps all over my body. I'd say that birthing is also a metaphysical experience.

So, at 3:30 AM of August 3, 2015, I gave birth to Thirdy through a vaginal delivery, and we did the Unang Yakap, which is a breastfeeding drive to encourage newborns to latch right away. Thirdy successfully latched, and I was able to exclusively breastfeed him for the first 6 months of his life.

I got what I wanted.

Aphorisms

Thirdy is turning 2-years-old next month. How time flies, indeed. Sometimes I can't wait for him to become a 1st grader, that way I could already address his rational mind, and I could impart to him some of the lessons I have learned in life. Growing up, I didn't have anyone to listen to me and give me sound advice about school, relationships, decisions, and basically just about life. I pretty much learned things on my own. In any case, I would like Thirdy to discover things on his own, too, but I'll make sure that I'll be here as his Mom so that his decision-making foundation will be anchored on rationality and logic .

These aphorisms, quotations, idiomatic expressions, and just plain common sense have helped me dealt up with some hard knocks I have encountered along the way. Thirdy, I hope you'll get to read this eventually.

1. You can't please everyone.

I walked through life being such a miss-goody-two-shoes. But I also had to make unpopular decisions, ones that disappointed and hurt other people. And so what?! Fact is people will always have different opinions from each other. If you go on pleasing everyone, you'll end up a miserable old man.

2. Live within your means.

There's nothing wrong with wearing designer clothes and shoes or to covet them. The problem is when you spend more than you can earn. Thirdy, my son, we are not rich. We can only give you a loving home and blissful family memories and the best education that we can afford for you, but more than that, well, you have to work hard for them.

3. People who shine from within doesn't need the spotlight.

Keep your feet grounded at all times. You are loved by your family, so you don't have to win anyone's approval. There is no need for you to be loud. Do not be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. Remember, a shallow brook babbles the loudest.

4. Integrity is what you do when no one is watching.

Being a person of virtue and character doesn't need to be tough. Be honest in all your dealings. Do this all the time, and it will be a hard habit to break.

5. There are no shortcuts in life.

Great things take effort to achieve because they don't work overnight. You'll have to put in extra hours and sacrifice some of your 'me' time if you want to succeed.

6. What others think of you is none of your business.

People will talk about you behind your back. Don't let other people's opinion of you be your yardstick for measuring your self-worth.

7. Good luck comes to those who work hard and prepare.

This one's from your Dad. This one's a no-brainer, but go ahead and ask him about this.

This is all for now, Thirdy. I will add up something on this list once I learn something new.

Love, Mom

Cats in Singapore

Bovine, porcine, equine, canine, feline -- these are just some of my favorite adjectives. Apart from the fact that they sound musical (you have to pronounce the second syllable -ine as /ayn/ like in number nine), I usually use the first four words to secretly mock someone. For example, when I'm tired of listening to someone who is fat, I would telepathically send him/her the message, "Your voice and your porcine looks are so darn irritating!"

Bovine is an adjective that means anything that resembles cows; porcine refers to pigs; equine refers to horses; canine refers to dogs; and feline refers to cats.

However, I don't think feline can be used to insult or mock someone. In fact, in case someone tells me that I have feline features, I'll take that as a compliment. Feline is such a sexy word because I think cats are the sexiest in the animal kingdom. It's no wonder that there's even a vaginal lubricant called Felina!

But cats in Singapore are anything but sexy. Here's the proof:

I don't want to say that fat is not sexy, but felines have to live up to their names at least. You can't be Catwoman if you don't have the bod of Halle Berry. Coming from a country where rats are bigger than cats, I was at first amused to see these "pusang kalye" under HDBs. They're not personally owned by anyone, but flat owners feed them. Cats here are so fat and lazy because they don't need to catch mice, climb trees, or scavenge for food. They're spoiled and loved to bits. Their SPCA (Society for the Prevention and Cruelty to Animals) is one active organization.

Well, Singapura won't be called the Lion City if it won't take care of its feline citizens. 

As for the canines here, I think they deserve one separate blog post.

On Parenthood

A staff from the HR Department of the university where I worked once commented that "feel na feel mo gid ya maging Nanay" (You are so into motherhood). It must be because I took a 6-month leave without pay after my 2-month (with pay) maternity leave in order for me to exclusively breastfeed Thirdy. Another staff said it is the first time that somebody took that leave just for that reason alone. Then, last April 28, 2017 I officially resigned from what would have been a promising academic career so I could become a full-time Mom and housewife. Again, I was asked by the staff from the HR what made me decide to do it and did I have any qualms? No, I said. In fact, it was such an easy decision. I only had to think of my son, and the burning desire to quit my job and personally take care of him was becoming intense everyday.

When colleagues knew that I was resigning, everyone seemed to comment, "kanugun," (what a waste).

If I gave birth in my 20s, I would have probably said the same thing. I would probably not give up my job because when you're in your 20s, you would still like to reach the top of that academic or corporate ladder. I gave birth when I was 31, and at that age, it seemed that accolades and additional academic degrees no longer mattered to me. What I am saying is that I was at the right age to accept the fact that my son is my priority now. Everything else is secondary.

For me, parenthood is more than just posting a picture of your baby in his cute outfit in FB. It is more than just bringing him to malls, so he could enjoy the rides there. It is more than just showing to the whole world that you have mothered or sired an intelligent child. Parenthood is a responsibility and privilege. You are entrusted with a human soul who has the capacity to build or destroy something as abstract as a relationship or something as concrete as the whole nation. Is this not a big responsibility? And it is a privilege because not everyone gets the chance to become a Mom or a Dad. It is a privilege because witnessing a child growing from infancy to adulthood is a marvel that has only been captured by poets and mystics. I am privileged to be given this responsibility of motherhood, and I am willing to let go of my dreams so that he could pursue his.

In this era of feminism and female empowerment where women are told that they can have it all, I decided to take a traditional route and become a full-time Mom. And I think, it is the best decision I have made so far. Not all women can have this opportunity, and I am sure a lot of working Moms would have preferred to become full-time Moms, too but financial setbacks and personal reasons do not permit them to do so. My husband and I have decided this over, and I am blessed that our little family can still survive even though I am no longer working.

Mental illness runs in my family, and I could only hope that Thirdy doesn't have that faulty gene. Schizophrenia is an illness that you inherit, after all. And everything starts from childhood. This is where I would like the nurture vs. nature come into play. A nurturing environment can do wonders to the mental health of a person. If I provide a nurturing family life in Thirdy's childhood, I am confident that he will grow up to be a functional and mentally stable adult.

They said that parents channel their dreams to their children. Someone who is a frustrated engineer would encourage his child to take up engineering. Someone who was born in poverty would like to provide everything for his child by spoiling him with material things. This is true for me. I did not have a happy childhood. It is one beset by abuse, abandonment, and homelessness. I do not want all these to be experienced by my son.

My becoming a parent has changed a lot of my perspectives in life. My desires and hopes for myself no longer seem to matter. I only have hopes and dreams for Thirdy now and his younger siblings (I hope we will be blessed with two more).

These days, our household centers around the rhythm of our little boy. We rarely go out because we do not want to disturb his sleeping pattern and meal schedule. We spend lots of time together as a family by playing, storytelling, and preparing meals - things that I could not do with him when I was still working. And I have seen how Thirdy has thrived since we moved here a month ago. He is growing up fine, happy, and healthy.

I do not find letting go of my job as "kanugun." Do you?

The Internet is My Oyster Sauce

When we moved here in SG, I brought along some cookbooks which I bought during my health conscious days (once upon a time, I wanted to be a vegetarian). Before we left, I attended a cooking class at my university but was only able to attend it for three meetings. I was vent on cooking for my family once we get settled in our new place, but my husband ended up cooking for us during our first week! I have always considered cooking as a rocket science, so I dared not cross the line that divides the ordinary laymen (eaters) from the scientists (the cooks). But, survival is a great motivating factor that I think I am now on my step of becoming a culinary scientist myself.

With a toddler, I no longer had the time to open these cookbooks.

The transition of moving was not that overwhelming, but I found out that I did not have the luxury of time for reading cookbooks because of my demanding little boy.

How could I refuse this cutie?

On top of that, the demanding little boy is becoming a picky eater. The pediatrician here said that he is on the small side that she gave us 1 can of S-26 for picky eaters.

...And we crossed the dark side!

I had to feed him something healthy and appetizing if I don't want to rely on the formula milk. Also, the husband has been quite critical of my cooking because mommy-in-law is one swell cook. So, armed with determination and a second hand skillet, I turned to the trusty 'ole friend of everyone these days -- the Internet.

And these are what I have created thru the help of the good souls all over the world who took the time to share their recipes and cooking videos online:

Rellenong Okra from facebook.com

Pasta Chicken Alfredo from marthastewart.com

Carrot and Potato with Minced Beef from greatbritishchefs.com

Tortang Talong with Minced Pork from panlasangpinoy.com

Balsamic Chicken from tasty.com

Stir-fried Shrimp from damndelicious.net

Ginisang Pechay from facebook.com

I'm giving myself a pat on the back for preparing such delicious dishes. Of course, I don't always get it perfect all the time, but like everything in life, cooking is a trial-and-error venture. You have to try again and again to get the dishes right. You may stumble (and get burnt along the way), but seeing your loved ones enjoying the meal you have prepared makes the time spent in the kitchen all worth it. Perhaps someday, I'll be as good as my mother-in-law, too.

Of Funerals and Night Terror

One year ago in May 2016 when we first brought Thirdy here in Singapore for vacation, he experienced what pediatricians call "Night Terror." It might sound like a horror movie title, but in some sense that was what we, the parents (especially me) felt after he inconsolably cried for 30 minutes or so while he was asleep! We were sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden, he started screaming. I woke up with a start and tried to soothe him by giving him the breast (the boob has always calmed him down), but it didn't work. I brought him to the bathroom and turned on the shower because he liked to catch the water, but he was closing his eyes. By then, his Dad and I felt so helpless. We tried to wake him up, but he just kept flailing his arms. After about 30 minutes of incessant crying, he calmed down and welcomed the breast. A quick search at Google about what just transpired led me to Night Terror. Here's the link that helped me.

http://kidshealth.org/en/parents/terrors.html

So the cause of night terror is overstimulation during daytime. But the superstitious in me said it's because of the Chinese funeral under the HDB Building. Everyday, we would pass by the funeral vigil and I would smell the burning incense and the hair-raising chants. It was my first time to witness a Chinese funeral vigil and of course, I found it weird. I was convinced that the funeral caused Thirdy's night terror.

Fast forward to May 2017 and we are here again on a Dependents' Pass. Again, there was a funeral vigil under our HDB for about a week. We are on the 2nd floor, so everytime they're burning something, the smoke drifts up to our window. On the day of the funeral, I heard a melancholic Chinese music and from my window and saw the family of the deceased walking with the casket (inside the funeral car) of their loved one in their mourning clothes. As I watched them in their grief, I could not help but feel sad for the family. I even shed a tear. Grief is a universal feeling, after all.

Thirdy no longer has night terror attacks, and after witnessing that funeral, I can say that perhaps, his night terror was not because he was haunted by the dead. It was probably just a nasty case of overstimulation.

 A funeral at the basement of our HDB (Home Development Board)

NOTE: This is weird but Thirdy had another bout of night terror (the worst, so far) AFTER I published this post. Coincidence?

Teaching Babies (and Parents) To be More Human at Balay Binhi

In my mid-twenties, I was a snooty graduate student who liked to toss philosophical words in any word salad essay like idealism, empiricism, and theism. But my favorite one was the word 'humanistic'. And for awhile I claimed to be a humanistic person because I adhered to the philosophy of humanism. To make it academic sounding, I'd tell people (who cared to ask about my teaching philosophy) that I am into the existential-humanism philosophy, which basically means that human beings are inherently good and that they carve their own destiny.

I am now in my early-thirties, a full-time mother and a wife. I have since stopped being snooty because after almost a decade of being in the academe, I really don't have anything to show that I am scholarly. My rather mediocre resume will prove just that. But I have learned so much from my short stint as an elementary teacher and from my 9 years of teaching in a university. For one, no matter how much private and public schools in our country claim to mold the character of our youth, we still end up with self-serving leaders (and they come from the so-called Ivy League schools here).

I still claim to be a humanist, but what does it mean to be one? I found some answers in my son's toddler school in Leganes called Balay Binhi.

Here are other lessons I learned from this little community of nurturers:

1. Love is best spelled as T-I-M-E.

Every article I have come across about how to rear a genius or how to have well-adjusted kids seem to boil down to this simple advice - spend time with your kids. Nothing beats having Mom around to listen or Dad helping little Johnny fix his bike. Everybody knows love is best spelled as t-i-m-e,  but it's difficult to practice it when you're a career mom. This is one of the reasons why I was happy to let go of my job.

2. Exposure to gadgets at an early age do more harm than good.

And not just gadgets, mind you. Include battery-operated toys, as well. I have personally witnessed how pushing buttons on a plastic toy to prompt animal sounds and blinking lights caused Thirdy to become a zombie. TV, tablets, and cellphones not only damage a child's vision, it also damages his brain causing him to become addicted to such.

3. A child's job is to play, not study.

From 0-7 years old according to Steiner (founder of Waldorf Education), a child should be taught that the world is beautiful, not a structured place where spewing the multiplication table and the alphabet backwards are more superior tasks than climbing trees and playing with mud. And how do we teach them that the world is beautiful? By nurturing their imagination. But how? By play, of course. Period.

4. Early academics will not make your child any smarter.

Sure, you might find a 2-year-old who already knows how to read a genius, but will this little bit of a talent matter to him after 30 years when he is struggling to find a job because he has poor interpersonal skills? I think what matters more is for our children to become highly functional adults, not someone who can memorize a textbook from cover to cover.

5. Parents need to be educated, too.

This is what I truly appreciate from our sessions at Balay Binhi. The parents are the ones who are educated and the children are allowed to just be children.

And the humanistic part? Balay Binhi focuses on the head, heart, and hands of a child. They make sure that none is too big nor too small than the other. Now, that's one lesson in not being snooty.