The Story of This Dress

I like going to the market near our HDB. There are two grocery stores there -- Fair Price and Prime. There is also a hawker center, a homeware store, and a fruit and vegetable stall where you can haggle with the owner. But what I particularly like is when they sell clothes at the market's center, which they don't do everyday. It reminds me of the market back home in Pinas, where you can buy underthings and children's clothes of good quality for a cheap price. 

So this one particular day, I had just finished buying fish from Prime. With still some money left and the clothing market on schedule that day AND my toddler asleep on his stroller, I was looking forward to peacefully 'shop' around for a dress. One dress caught my eye. It reminded me of my favorite maternity dress which someone stole when I left it to hang overnight outside our apartment. 

On my 3rd month of pregnancy here. I so love the paisley design of this dress. Somebody must have liked it, too because it got stolen.

So imagine my delight when I saw a similar dress which was only 8 SGD (P240). The stolen one cost me 10 SGD (P300). I immediately bought the dress. 

Yes, this dress! Never mind our kissykissy faces and my husband's awkward pose. 

The flower design is *heart*

Anyhoo, after buying the lovely clothing, I spied another maternity dress which could double as a breastfeeding dress. It was from the same makeshift stall, but for 15 SGD, I thought it was quite expensive. I stayed around and asked the owner for other colors (just to buy time) - the dress came in purple, pink, brown, and others which I can no longer recall now. I thought the brown one would especially go well with my brown sandals, but alas, my money was not enough. I had 10 dollars, so I checked my coin purse for some change which I prayerfully counted would at least reach 5 dollars. But I only had 3 dollars. I went back to the owner and haggled. I told her I bought one dress from her already and will buy another one, so could I at least be given a discount? She said, "Alright. 14 dollars for you." 

I was still 1 dollar short. But I wasn't just about to give up. I looked around for some Pinays or for some good Samaritan who might want to take pity on a pregnant woman and lend her a dollar. But it was almost 12 noon that time, and market goers were thinning in number. I thought of going home instead, get the blasted dollar, and go back to the market which will take me about 10 minutes if I do my fast pregnant waddle. 

Instead of going home, I decided to sit by the corner and rummaged around my bag hoping that I could at least find a dollar tucked somewhere in its several pockets. But there was none. So again, I counted my coins by dumping the whole contents of my wallet on the skirt of my dress. I managed to scrimp 13.70 dollars only. The heat and the agitation to hopefully clinch 14 dollars made me sweat profusely. There I was on my 6th month of pregnancy, counting pennies on a market's corner with a sleeping toddler that after awhile it dawned on me that I probably looked comically desperate. I thought that maybe it's best that I should just go home and get that sorry dollar. So, I went back to the owner and asked what time she'll be closing up (they don't stay in the afternoon). She was with a customer, so she didn't answer me right away. I asked loudly the second time, and she turned around to ask me, "How much do you have?" I replied that I only have 13.70 dollars. She immediately wrapped the dress and told me, "Ok, I'll give this to you, but next time, buy from me again." I felt like hugging her. I believe now that she took pity on the poor pregnant housewife who was at the same time saddled with a toddler (waking up from dreamland by that time) -- ME! When I gave her my 13.70 dollars which all came in coins, she exclaimed, "Whoah! So many 50 cents!" I grabbed the dress right away before she could change her mind. My husband told me later that most Singaporeans find 50 cents as useless already, thus the reaction from the owner. 

When I got home, I tried on the dress (I couldn't try it in the market because there was no changing room) and realized that I didn't like the brown color. The knitted flowers on the chest actually looks like I have several nipples. I think my take-away from the experience is that I shouldn't get too desperate over something. I actually found a similar dress displayed in one of the boutiques in Iloilo (but I didn't dare go inside to ask for the price anymore). I eventually wore the dress for my maternity photoshoot. I may not like the color, but I think it's still worth every scrimped penny.

So... that's the story behind that dress. My husband and I had a good laugh over that experience.

And here are some of pictures from my maternity photoshoot featuring none other than the 13.70 SGD dress! 

Photos were taken by Steve Francis Quiatchion. 

#bigbroThirdy

Our family has so many things to look forward to this year. Dear reader, here's hoping that you'll also have many things to look forward to this 2018! Cheers from angmaestra.blogspot.com

Why Hiligaynon and not English

Every time I tell people that my 2-year-old cannot understand English yet and that I would rather that he be spoken to in our mother tongue which is Hiligaynon, I would get the same uncalled-for advice: "Start teaching him English."

I do teach my son English, but not through rigid instruction where I would ask him to memorize answers to questions like, "How are you?" "How old are you?" and "What's your name?" To be honest, I find that toddlers who memorize answers (I'm fine, thank you. How about you?) to these questions don't even know what they're talking about, thus it comes out rather mechanical and unnatural from their cute little mouths. I think children (toddlers especially) should be communicated to in a language where they can also respond with meaning. It's also best to use the language in a context where the child can experience the objects being named. My son and I do a lot of nursery rhymes in English and we do a lot of naming objects in English, too. But when it comes to communicating, I don't use English; I use Hiligaynon and I throw in a lot of Kinaray-a instead. Why?Because Kinaray-a is my mother tongue and I'm the mother of my son (geddit?). Also, because I just love the sound of our language. I find it even more fascinating to listen to as Thirdy learns to speak the language at his own pace like clipping the first and second syllables and just uttering the last syllable like "sog" for "kusog" and "ku" for "daku". His fascination with repeated words like "puti-puti" "dagdag" "dasig-dasig" and many more is also interesting. These are trivial reasons really, but let me rebutt against the MOST COMMON REASONS well-meaning friends, acquaintances and relatives advise me on why I should start teaching my toddler English.

1. He will have difficulty communicating with his peers who are English speakers.

Toddlers do solitary play if you notice. They stare, observe, and smile at other toddlers, but have you heard them strike a conversation with one another the way adults do? Through an adult's promptings, yes. But toddlers don't necessarily need an active language to understand each other because they have a universal language.

Toddlers of different races share a language unique to their age group. Is it because their primitive brains are still not wired to follow the standard nuances of a spoken language or is it because they still have memories of heaven?

At this point in Thirdy's life, whom he needed to communicate with are his primary caregivers which include me, his Dad, and our immediate family members. We use our mother tongue when we communicate, so teaching him English at this point is not top priority. I teach him how to be polite and respectful to adults by saying the magic words like "thank you" and "sorry" but I don't expect him to spew answers (in English) like a 7-year-old would every time he is being asked questions by adults. When he turns 4, and he still doesn't speak English with the correct syntax, pronunciation, and semantics, that would be the least of my concern. But when he turns 4, but he still doesn't play with his peers, then I'd get worried.

2. Learning English at a young age is good for him.

How young is young? I will teach him English eventually, but that is, after he has mastered the basics of his mother tongue. The plasticity of his brain actually allows him to acquire language easily and faster than adults anyway. I'll start teaching him English when he has learned how to read and write, that way, he will be able to spell the English words correctly and at the same time that he is learning to speak English, he is also deciphering the visual symbols that go with that language.

The reason why I stick with Hiligaynon is because I would like Thirdy to grow up bilingual - someone who has a good grasp of his mother tongue, and someone who is also proficient in his second language.

For the benefits of being bilingual instead of just monolingual, please watch this video.

Also, by introducing mother tongue to him first, his tongue will build muscles necessary to pronounce certain words not only in Hiligaynon but also in other languages (not only in English).

3. He needs English to go far in life.

Sure, English is the most spoken and preferred standard language around the world, but to say that he will succeed in life alone because of English is a sweeping conclusion. What a child needs in order to succeed in life as an adult is the right attitude. He will need some skills and English will be one of them, but having the right pronunciation and highfalutin vocabulary will not assure him a spot up there.

I think more than the language itself, what we need to teach our children is how to speak gently and sincerely to people from all walks of life. Words are powerful - they can make or break a person. If people can refrain from speaking harshly and sarcastically, this world will be a better place. 

4. With English, he will be more advanced than his peers. 

This mentality of wanting to be more advanced or better than the others will have repercussions later on in life. The truth is, we can't always be more advanced than the person seated next to us. This will sound condescending, but I do not think Thirdy will have any problem acquiring his English later on. Why? Because I have been there myself. I grew up as a Karay-a through and through. English exposure was through TV and radio only, but I turned out just fine. I even went on to teach English for more than a decade in the elementary, secondary, and tertiary levels. This will sound condescending but I can communicate with a native speaker of English and I am proficient in the English listening, speaking, reading, and writing (my IELTS above average score says so -- now this is condescending). Not bad for a Kinaray-a girl. 

I foresee that my little boy will not be any different from thousands of Filipinos who are proficient in the English language. And he will not be any different from thousands of Filipinos who started with his mother tongue. 

Like everything else in parenting, a child's first language is a personal choice for all parents. But joining an international playgroup even made me feel more validated of choosing my mother tongue as Thirdy's first language. When we first attended the Waldorf playgroup in Singapore, I was expecting only mothers of Chinese or Indian ancestry to join. But when we joined the first and the succeeding sessions, other nationalities would join in like French, Finnish, and Malay. We, the mothers would all chat together in English but when it came to our children, we would all switch to our mother tongues. So snack time was a noisy hodgepodge of Mandarin, French, Tamil, Swedish, and Hiligaynon! It made me feel that somehow, Thirdy and I have this unique and intimate secret language, where we could both express ourselves. The same is true for other mothers in that playgroup, I suppose.

So, there. I think next time I will be asked why I am not teaching my son English yet, I will not be explaining myself why. I'll just let them listen to Thirdy's Dandansoy song.

They say that memory starts at the age of 3

Tita Asela and Tita Aurora (Insert Tita Malou) of Balay Binhi Iloilo, Philippines and

Auntie Sandhya of Waldorf Playgroup Singapore

They say that memory starts at the age of 3,

But I can recall something before that – all about goodness and serenity.

I remember bright faces and oh, such peaceful spaces,

With soft dolls, porcelain shells, and wooden mazes.

I remember a soothing melody reminding me to gently set aside these playthings

Because we had to form a circle and pretend we were little queens and kings!

So we held hands with one another,

My left hand with my nurturer and my right hand with my mother.

And together we danced around to songs that delighted me much

Of flying chickadees, clothes washing gorillas, snapping crocodiles and such.

We hopped, jumped, rolled and crawled – oh, I was so happy!

But all those dancing and singing also made me hungry,

So we sang, “Flip and dip your hands like fish in the silver sea,

Wipe and dry them in the towel and let’s sit down for tea.”

I was given my share of food and we asked for blessings on our meal.

We had bread that we baked and vegetable soup (my favorite), what a thrill!

I finished everything on my plate and I also asked for more.

My tummy was full and I was ready to feed the animals outside for sure.

The sun warmed my back as we set out,

I fed the chickens, the fishes, and the goats that were running out and about.

We watered the blooming garden, and we played with sand.

But soon it was story time, my mother took my hand.

And she sat beside me as we listened to a story

About a caterpillar, an ant, and a bee.

By then, my body wanted me to rest

So my mother laid me on her breast

... And I was light and free.

So when they say that memory starts at the age of 3,

I beg to disagree

Because what we saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and touched before the age of 3

Are foundations for a sound life and on how we choose to be.

And they remind me and you

That our senses have memories, too.

*So I thank you, my nurturers Tita Asela, Tita Au, Tita Malou and Auntie Sandhya, for giving me a good start

Because of what you have given me, I know I’ll grow up healthy and smart.

-- by Thirdy the poet

Good Things Come in Threes

When I was growing up in my small and sleepy hometown, I would often wonder why our town mayor would always be invited in weddings. Not only that, he would also often sit as one of the principal sponsors or ninongs. In my young mind, I thought it was mandatory to invite the mayor in all the townfolks' weddings.

When I became an adult, I realized that the ninong and ninang are there to serve as the pricincipal witnesses of one's wedding. After all, they are the ones who sign in one's marriage certificate, not the couple's parents or siblings. They also serve as second parents and role models to the newlyweds.

When husband and I planned our wedding, we both agreed that we shall only have three pairs of principal sponsors. Because really, why have a dozen pairs when you barely know them and their marriages are not even worthy of being emulated? It was not so difficult for me to pick those who will serve as our godparents. I personally know the two ninangs and ninongs while husband personally picked the other pair.

Since today is our 3rd wedding anniversary, I would like to give tribute to our three pairs of ninongs and ninangs.

1) Dr. Victoria Albacete

Maam Vicky was my drama teacher back in my senior year in college. When I started teaching at WVSU, we became officemates and very good friends. As I was just a new faculty member then, I appreciated her listening to my lovelife woes and to my personal struggles. I look up to her because she is steadfast in her faith, committed to her family, and managed to grow in her career despite having two young children. She and her husband may have had challenges, but she is always calm and poised - an epitome of grace under pressure. I'll always keep in my mind what she told me - to rest my soul in Jesus because His love is constant. Thank you, Maam Vicky for always keeping us in your praying heart.

2) Dr. Eleonora Padilla

Maam Boging was my teacher in several of my major subjects in college. Most of my classmates who became teachers themselves would always give credit to Maam Boging for inspiring them to take the path of the noble profession. I was one of those who was inspired, too. It was always interesting to listen to her stories and her generosity knows no bounds. We were welcome to barge into her office and into her home anytime of the day. Her marriage and family life reflect the kind of person she is - warm, welcoming, and inspiring. Thank you, Maam Bogs for your kind words and gentle reminders during our wedding day. Please continue to be an inspiration to your students and may you have many more couples to serve as ninang to.

3) Dr. Daisy Altamera

Doc Daisy is the reason why husband has a nakakasilaw smile. She is a dentist by profession, and she has been taking care of husband's teeth ever since he was still in diapers. I have heard about her humble beginnings, and it is inspiring to see her now - a flourishing dental clinic as well as a successful mother of three grown-up children who are also making a name for themselves. Thank you, Tita Ninang for honoring our wedding with your presence and of course, for giving husband his shining molars.

*I have decided to use the Ninangs' professional titles to remind myself that these women I look up to were able to juggle motherhood, family life, and career.

Now on to the Ninongs...

1) Engr. Randy Rabe

Ninong Randy and wife, Irish's love story is something hopeless romantics would love to listen to. It reminds me to never give up and to pursue someone who is worth pursuing. He flew all the way from Singapore to stand as our ninong on our wedding day. We really appreciate it. Ninang Irish couldn't make it because she was pregnant with their second baby then. They now have three beautiful sons, by the way. As for their love story, you just have to ask them yourself about how they ended up together. Thank you, Ninong Randy for the generosity of your time, for your kindness to Axe (when he was still a Totoy) and for your gift of friendship.

2) President Carlos P. Garcia

I would like to say that Sir Caloy was the father I never had. We met as readers in the Lector's Ministry of St. Clement's more than 6 years ago. When I was troubled at work or when I had to make a tough decision, I would consult him and he would always be generous of his time. I remember asking him about a guy I just met whom I was attracted to and how anxious I was about my feelings (I'm referring to husband, of course). His kind words made me feel confident after. Thank you, Ninong Caloy for never failing to listen to me and for believing in what I can do. 

*I am not joking about his President title because once upon a time, he served as the President of our Lector's Ministry. And yes, his complete name is really Carlos P. Garcia.

3) Freedom Father Pol Espanola

Ninong Pol and I met at the Toastmasters Club Iloilo Chapter. I remember vividly about one topic where he was asked about marriage. He claimed to be someone who was not such a good speaker, but when he talked about his marriage, he was confident, spontaneous, and downright funny. I was single then, but when he ended his speech, I told myself that that's just the kind of marriage that I want for myself. Ninong Pol, aka TM Pol also likes to call himself Freedom Father because he advocates financial freedom and financial literacy which he has successfully promoted. We followed his advice of not buying a car nor a house. Why does he give this kind of advice? Ask him yourself. He is very much accommodating when you have questions about money and investments. Thank you, Ninong Pol for that wide smile and for that Ninongly advice you gave on our wedding day (you always rock as a public speaker). 

Thank you, Ninongs and Ninangs for accepting our invitation of being our principal sponsors. We look up to you not just because your marriages are worth emulating but also because individually, you rock!

So, to those who are getting hitched and are planning their entourage list, don't include someone as your principal sponsor just because he/she is your mom's bestfriend, your baptism godparent, or God forbid, your town mayor! Choose someone you know personally and someone you could look up to in your marriage. 

The Pros and Cons of Attachment Parenting

Attachment Parenting or AP by definition is a parenting philosophy that proposes methods which aims to promote the attachment of mother and infant not only by maximal maternal empathy and responsiveness but also by continuous bodily closeness and touch (Wikipedia). It encourages parents to breastfeed, co-sleep, and babywear.

Even while I was pregnant, the decision to breastfeed, co-sleep, and babywear Thirdy when he eventually comes out came naturally for me (http://angmaestra.blogspot.sg/2015/05/mommy-plans.html). I didn't have qualms about it, and I thought it was the best option for my firstborn (I still do). But a toddler has different needs from an infant. Thirdy is now an active 2-year-old as well as a soon-to-be-Manong. As of writing this, I am 16 weeks pregnant, and although I would still like to AP Thirdy and Fourdee (that's the bun in the oven's nickname), I am re-evaluating my stance on breastfeeding, co-sleeping, and babywearing.

1) Breastfeeding

Go public! Breastfeeding at Richmonde Hotel swimmimg pool area

PROS

There is no question that breastfeeding is the best option for your baby - it is safe, convenient, cheap, and downright healthy. I can attest to this because I have been breastfeeding Thirdy since he was born, and he never got sick to the point where he needed to be hospitalized. Sure, he got the occasional sniffles, fever, and cough but thank God, it never went beyond that. I have to give credit to my breastmilk for boosting his immune system. In addition to that, we didn't go through the trouble of buying baby bottles, filtered water (which can be contaminated), and formula milk during his first two years.

CONS

The weaning is the tough part. As per doctor's advice, I should wean Thirdy. Plus, I do not think I can handle tandem breastfeeding when Fourdee comes out eventually. But when you have been co-sleeping and breastfeeding since Day 1, weaning is going to be a struggle.

Also, formula milk has been given a bad rap. But there have been many instances where FM has saved many a baby's lives. When Thirdy turned 1, his height and weight plateaued. He was almost 2 when his pediatrician said we have to start on formula milk because his height and weight are on the borderline of falling behind his age. I was resistant because for me formula milk was the evil's spawn. Looking back now, I should have started on FM when he turned 1 or 1 1/2. He is very small, and I sometimes feel insecure when I see him playing with other children who are bigger but younger than he is. I have to blame our genes for his small stature because we, his parents are also very cute. So, we should have started mixed-feeding at least earlier.


2) Co-sleeping

I only sleep when I'm rocked because I'm a rockstar, Mom.

PROS

I love cuddling up with my little boy. When you're breastfeeding, it's perfectly convenient to co-sleep because when the little one is hungry, all you have to do is bare the boob and he'll be fine. Your baby also gets to be familiar with Mom and Dad's smell and warmth, and he will know early on that he is loved.

CONS

Sleep training is going to be a challenge when you have been co-sleeping since Day 1. Your child won't go to sleep without you around. That's our concern with Thirdy. Aside from that, he has been used to being carried and rocked just so he could go to sleep (blame my Mom). He is quite heavy now. Also, my tummy is getting bigger everyday, so carrying him can be a pain in the neck (literally) and the back.

When he was still an infant, well-meaning relatives warned us not to rock him all the time as he will get used to it. But I thought, babies NEED to be rocked because they are helpless, tiny human beings, and they need warmth, love, protection, etc. I forgot that tiny human beings also grow big and heavy. With Fourdee, I think we will heed our relatives' advice.

Also, I personally think that a child should have his own bedroom by the time he goes to primary/elementary school at least. This will teach him about personal space and independence. Plus, there's no danger of coming across Mom or Dad naked or Mom and Dad doing 'it'.


3) Babywearing

kangaroo carrier

SaYa wrap

PROS

Your hands are free when you carry your baby around like an 'ati.' And just like co-sleeping, it makes your baby feel warm and secure.

CONS

You'll have pain around your waist once your baby gets the extra weight. I stopped babywearing when Thirdy turned 1 and 1/2. With Fourdee, I'll probably stick with the stroller once he/she hits that age, too.


In conclusion, Attachment Parenting is a personal choice, really. They say that with Baby # 1, everything is a trial-and-error. Parents usually feel anxious and would do everything for their firstborn. But when Baby # 2 comes, parents are more relaxed. They have learned and survived parenting the first time, so the second time around they know what to do. This is how I feel with Fourdee now. I still plan on doing attachment parenting with him/her, but not a straijacket kind of AP - more of a sweater kind of AP. I'll take it off once it becomes too hot for us.

And Fourdee wants to say hi!

Bleeding and Breeding

There has been so much expression of outrage over the death of 17-year-old Kian de los Santos. His untimely demise as reported by witnesses and as captured by CCTV has made everyone conscious that in the Philippines, no one is no longer safe. Kian could have been your grandson, your neighbor, your brother, or you. Anyone could just catch a bullet in his head because hey, it's our country's war on drugs. There are bound to be casualties. 

And I am now wondering about the kind of people our country is breeding. I am one of the thousand Filipinos who are now living in fear (even though I am currently based abroad) because I have loved ones back home who might become another Kian (God forbid). The line, "Hindi ka papatayin kung hindi ka naman nag da-drugs" no longer applies. If I am this scared even though geographically speaking we are from a safe distance, how much more of the families of the victims who were killed since the great President sat in power? What fear their parents, spouses, and children must be facing right now.

We are breeding citizens who in the future will be paralyzed with fear because they thought the firecrackers outside sound just like gunshots. We are raising our children to become desensitized to deaths caused by stray bullets, 'police mistakes'-so-please-forgive-them, and riding in tandem murders. Our young ones will grow up thinking that a president who curses and who orders killings is a normal fixture in the great grand scheme of things. They too, will take up their parents' guns for protection or maybe in support of the government's war on drugs because, after all this is a cause worth fighting for.

But no, we will not allow such things to happen. Because we, the so-called 'young once' are burning with anger. And anger is the enemy of apathy.

If Kian's death will not wake you up from your apathy and bigotry, what else will? Don't wait for that bullet to get you or your loved ones. No one is safe. No one.

#justiceforkian

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.