My Journey to Motherhood

I could still remember it clearly…the day I found out.

It was April 24, 2013. Wednesday afternoon. I was staying at my Parents' room, resting on their soft, brown couch. I woke up at the middle of my sleep and suddenly felt sick. I felt the urge to vomit and ran my way to the bathroom and let it all out. Normally, I would be grossed out. But that very moment, I didn't, I just let out a big smile and said, "THIS IS IT". However, I postponed the testing, thinking it was way too early.

Two days after, I took a test, but it was negative. I felt disappointed and hid the test inside my closet. I cried for a little while, called Marshall (who was at their house, studying) and told him what happened. He told me to throw the test away and all the other unused PT kits I had (I had about 10, I think!) and just enjoy what we had then. So I took the test from my closet (ready to throw it away) and was surprised to see a very, very faint line, which could actually mean a lot of things. But for me, it only meant one thing: I was pregnant…again! I called Marshall right away and I cried again. This time, however, it was tears of joy. :)

The First Trimester

During the first trimester, I had the worst morning sickness. I don't know why they call it "morning" sickness because I had it all day long! I would vomit before and after eating. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. And all the meals I had in between. Have I mentioned it happened all day? It wasn't easy, as I had to worry about my weight loss and whether or not I was able to give my baby the proper nutrition he needed. The fact that I had to wait for about a month (after finding out) to know whether it was a viable pregnancy didn't help either. I was scared to death that what happened to me last March 2013 would happen to me again -- when I wasn't even able to hear the heartbeat of my little one before I lost him/her.

On May 22, I was around 7-8 weeks, I had my first ultrasound. And guess what? Marshall and I finally heard our little one's heartbeat. It was a milestone for the both of us. We could see our baby, our very own miracle, our half and half, looking like what seemed like a tiny worm, with a heart that's beating away. I cried during the ultrasound. I cried because I couldn't believe that it was happening. In fact, I had as many ultrasounds as I could just to make sure that I was really pregnant (and to check his progress, of course!). Heck, I even got my own doppler from Amazon (which I got through thecarefreeshopper!), which helped us get through the days when we would worry about our little one. Yes, I am that much of a paranoid. But who can blame me, anyway?

The Second Trimester

During the second trimester, which a lot of people call the "honeymoon stage" of pregnancy, my morning sickness was still at its peak. In addition to that, I had the worst back pain and I had my bouts of round ligament pain. Again, it wasn't easy. I wouldn't call it the most comfortable. However, it was indeed the honeymoon stage -- it was when I started to show and when I, we, first felt our baby kick/move. I remember smiling and screaming when I first felt a kick inside. Marshall wouldn't believe me at first because he couldn't feel it (Jealous much? Hehe). After 3 days of enjoying the kicks alone, our little one finally let our daddy join the fun. He felt him kick 3 times on August 27, at around 1 am. He screamed and jumped out of joy. He said it felt amazing and that he could do that everyday -- wait for our baby kick and feel it. Another milestone in our life together!

On August 8, I was about 18 weeks, we went out to get a gender determination ultrasound. I wanted a boy. Marshall wanted a boy. But everyone (except from my Mama and Sister) said it was going to be a girl! When it was already our turn, I felt excited and nervous at the same time. Our baby had his/her legs wide open but I couldn't really tell. The sonologist suddenly laughed and told us that our baby was scratching "down there". He then asked, "What do you want?". I said "boy!" with no hesitations. My prayer was answered, again! It was indeed a boy. Finally, a baby boy in our family!

The Third Trimester

During the third trimester, my morning sickness was already gone and so I started to gain weight. I could pretty much say that this is the most comfortable stage ever! I love that I could walk all day without getting too worn out and that I didn't have to go through edema and stretch marks (well, at least not yet…). I also love how the kicks and movement are more distinct now and how he would kick more whenever we're alone together. It makes me feel like he's already talking to me, telling me how much he loves me. Hihi. It was harder to sleep at night and to pick up something from the floor, though, but that's pretty bearable.

On November 8 (I was about 31 weeks+), however, after an unfortunate event at around 10PM, I had a trip to the Labor and Delivery room. It was only then we found out that I was already dilated to 1 and that I was having mild to moderate contractions. Not to mention a very bad UTI! Needless to say, I was confined and had to stay there for about 3 days. It wasn't easy staying there. I had to stay still all the time. I couldn't stand up or even sit up. The meds drove my heart rate up to 120+ so I had a heart time breathing as well and I had to be sedated. But, I was thankful that my baby was doing great and that they were able to stop the contractions. After I was sent home, I told myself (and the nurses too!) that that would be the last time I would end up on the L&D before I give birth. However, I had to go back there (hehe) on November 23 after a false water leak and found out that I was already at 1-2 with regular contractions (why the hell couldn't I feel them?). I was confined again but after 1 day, I asked, well, begged to be sent home because I would rather be in the comforts of our own home. I was sent home and was asked to go on strict house arrest until my due date (and that's less than a month away!). And just recently, I experienced bleeding and we all thought I was going to give birth already, yet again! Well, it turned out to be minimal and yes, I'm still very much pregnant. (Magiging pilyo tong batang to paglaki. Haha!) Pregnancy, indeed, is one hell of a roller coaster ride, no?

I have to admit, the house arrest was mentally and emotionally killing me. I have already lost almost 5-7 pounds in less than 2 weeks and Marshall is blaming my over thinking. I would cry at night, thinking about a lot of things and possibilities. From him not being there during my labor, to me dying on the table, to being forced to get a CS instead, to delivering my baby way too early and seeing him inside an incubator, to going overdue. I am one crazy pregnant woman, I know. But then again, I have to blame my hormones for that. :P (Disclaimer: I make sure my baby is perfectly healthy despite all the crazy things I do, or think of, for that matter.)

Overall, it wasn't an easy and perfect pregnancy -- it still isn't. But honestly, I love being pregnant! And I would do it all over again after I finish Law school, with both the good and bad. Every pain and discomfort I feel, every sacrifice I have to make, every wine or sushi or gathering I have to say No to, every big kick on the rib I have to endure, every night I have to go through with less or no sleep…every little damn thing was, is and will always be worth it because it only means one thing: I'm going to have a baby. And for a woman who's been told she's barren, that means just about everything.

PS: Dear baby boy, we can't wait to see you. Daddy M and Ate Boogie, along with your Nana, Papa P, Aunts, Uncles and Ate C, have been taking extra good care of me because they want you safe and healthy. Always know that we all love you and that we'll love you more each day. See you soon. :)



Love, Mama Ella.

On Taking Second Chances

PS: I am truly sorry if there's any grammatical error or lack of thought organization. I was very emotional when I made the video last year, and I unfortunately had no time to redo it. :-)

Why I Make A Crappy Girlfriend

Why do I think I make a crappy girlfriend?

 

I make a crappy girlfriend because I am pretty annoying. More often than not, I intend it. Other times, well, I don't mean to annoy you, it just comes out naturally. Trust me when I say I always try to stop being annoying when you're already making that "angry face" of yours. But I just can't help it. I'm annoying and I like annoying you for the sole reason that you get annoyed by it.

 

I make a crappy girlfriend because I am more on the crazy side. I laugh at non-sense jokes. I cry at the least romantic movies. I hate hugs but I would require you to hug me before we sleep, would feel abandoned when you don't and would remove your arms when you do. I dance when I'm happy, even in public. I do the weirdest and craziest things.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I have bad sleeping habits. I crack my knuckles, my hands, my neck and my feet before I sleep. I usually rub my feet with yours to put myself to sleep, even when you're already fast asleep. I move around to find my sleeping position and once I do, I don't want you to disturb me because I will bite you.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I'm a cry baby. I cry when I'm happy and when I'm sad. I even cry when I'm mad and when I'm scared. I cry when I see a cat coming towards me. I sometimes cry for no reason at all or for a petty one, say, when the electric fan is on (which is weird, I know). I have a bottomless tub full of tears hidden somewhere inside my eyes.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I have a weird preference when it comes to food. I don't eat much rice, but I will take as much as 1/4 of your viand and maybe all of it if I really like it. I want my lucky-me mami dry with two eggs battered in it. I like my pancit canton filled with cheese. I prefer cooking fried food with butter, or with nothing at all.

I make a crappy girlfriend because when I order three sets of food, I only eat the first set I ordered or maybe only half of it and make you eat the rest. I don't know, I like it when I see you eating, even when I know you will feel bad afterwards for eating it all.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I get jealous very easily. And as if that's not enough crap already, when I get jealous, I tend to ask stupid questions and throw a hissy fit when you fail to give me a valid and detailed answer. When I catch you saying hi to a girl I don't know, I expect you to tell me right away who that is and where, how, why and when you met, etc. Or else...

I make a crappy girlfriend because I love having arguments. I never give up on an argument even if I already know that it's pointless or that I'm wrong. I always try to find a way to make my argument right, and yes, I always, always, always succeed.

I make a crappy girlfriend because when I'm sick or sad, I get really cranky. I would push you away when you try to take care of me, and feel neglected when you don't. I tend to throw temper tantrums, too, so I expect you to hold me down whenever I do.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I drink too much. I can drink for one whole night and not get drunk. But when I've already had one too many drinks, I go crazy and need to be taken care of.

I make a crappy girlfriend because I have trust and commitment issues. I have extremely high walls that need patience and love to be taken down. When I say I trust you, I do, even when I show a hint of doubt sometimes. I am a big paranoid, that's why.

I make a crappy girlfriend because whenever we watch movies or TV shows, I secretly search for its plot/synopsis on Google. I hate being surprised. I like knowing the story beforehand. I love cheap thrills, too, but I'm just one impatient person.

I make a crappy girlfriend because, like what I said in the preceding paragraph, I am impatient. I expect you to answer my calls all the time, even when you're asleep. I expect you to reply to my messages within 10 minutes of reading it. Or else, I go hysterical. I don't like waiting.

I make a crappy girlfriend, JUST BECAUSE.

I make a crappy girlfriend, I know… But I love you more than I love my blueberry cheesecake. And I don't think anyone can beat that!

 

Can't you see? I'm the only girl made for you. I may be a crappy girlfriend, but I love you immensely, my perfect, silly boyfriend and I'm not gonna let any other girl, or boy, for that matter, take you away from me. :-)

What Kept Me Going

People often ask me how I'm doing after what happened to me last month. And whenever I answer, "I'm actually doing pretty good", they start asking me when and how I was able to make it through.

When?

I don't really know.

I just woke up one day, my eyes filled with tears, my heart and body numb, and I knew it was time... It was time to pick up my tiny, shattered pieces and move on with my life because locking myself up within the four corners of my small room and resorting to solitary confinement would only do me more harm than good.

That very moment I stood up and decided to go out with my family and have a good time. I think that's the first night I let out a genuine laughter after what happened. I drank for the first time after two months and got really intoxicated. I remember throwing up at 3:00 am and munching on food I was prohibited to eat when I was still pregnant. It actually felt good.

How?

This is relatively easy.

I was able to make it through because of my family and my friends.

My family was there for me throughout, never leaving my side even when I refused to communicate at first. They bought me comfort food, gave me pieces of advice and words of wisdom and hugged me whenever I breakdown, which, fyi, happened almost everyday. I remember all of them trying to call me after my operation and when they heard that it went well without any complications they celebrated and got themselves drunk at home (I didn't want them to stay with me at the hospital because I know it would break their hearts to see me crying and bleeding and I don't want that). I have an amazing family and I would have lost it if it weren't for them.

My friends, even when they weren't physically around, made me feel like I was never alone. They sent me messages and whatnot to make me feel better. I want to thank all of them here, but they're just too many. All I can say is that I am truly blessed for having a multitude of good friends and I am thankful for that.

Of course, I would not have made it through if it weren't for these two:

They were there for me before, during and after what happened. They took care of me; served me food and drink; turned on the television and the lights when I couldn't stand; and never left my side even when I was already unbearable. They were there with me at the hospital, kissed me before the operation and patiently waited for me outside the operating room. When I bled massively after the operation, they were the ones who cleaned me up and set me to sleep. I was already lucky for having the two of them, and I got even luckier now for having an angel whom I know will guide us throughout.

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So how am I doing? I'm doing pretty good. I still cry occasionally, and sometimes blame myself for what happened. But I'm doing good. :-) Honestly, I am scared that it will happen again when I get pregnant again in the near future, but I am not scared to try again. And I will try again. God knows how much I want this. And I know I deserve this. We deserve this. :-)

PS: I wanted to upload a picture of my family but they're very private people and we agreed not to upload their pictures here.

Already In My Heart, Someday In My Arms

I recently suffered from the loss of my little one. Frankly speaking, I'm still suffering from it. That's why I would like to share my experience because I think I'm going to die if I keep this all to myself. So here it goes...

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Last year, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I was given treatment for more than 6 months but they only seem to make the situation worse, so I decided to stop the treatment and just let things be. However, when I consulted another doctor, I was informed that it would probably be next to impossible to get pregnant once I reach the age of 25 since I was already classified under severe PCOS and I rarely, if not at all, ovulated. As I was already 21 then and wanted more than 4 children, I started to get frustrated.

How can I give my future husband the 12 children he's been relentlessly asking from me?

How can I give my wonderful parents their most awaited grandchildren?

See, it was pretty frustrating.

But then I again decided to, well, just let things be. Besides, it's already beyond my control.

And then, on January 28, 2013, my period didn't start when it should already have. (I was waiting for it because I had to drink my medicine every cycle day 2) We were in Cebu then. I was actually planning to drink beer to induce it, but I was almost always too sleepy to even have a good time and enjoy Cebu at night. So when we got back to Manila after a week and I still didn't get my period, I took a Pregnancy Test and it was negative. Who was I kidding? "I don't ovulate, how can I get pregnant?!", I told myself.

On February 4, 2013, two days after the negative PT, when Mama joked that I might be pregnant because I felt nauseated and I was already 1 week late (which is usually normal in my case but since I was on medication at that time, it just wasn't normal), I tried to take another test, just for my peace of mind. I was surprised and horrified to see that second line. I thought the test was faulty, so I did another test. And then another. All of those three pregnancy tests had that faint but visible second line. Oh, that magical second line.

 My Very First Positive Pregnancy Test (February 4, 2013)

I immediately told my Sister and Mama and they were all pretty happy and excited about it. When I told Papa, he got mad at me for a while and I started to think he didn't want my child. After about an hour, he called me back to his room. He was crying when he hugged me and told me that he loved me and my baby and that we'll make it through, together. Trust me, it was the most amazing thing in the world.

I went straight to my OB afterwards and told her what happened. She was surprised. She told me her hopes were high for me as long as I didn't spot and sent me home. Without giving me pre-natals or supplements. Without any "Congratulations!".

So I went home and prayed for two long weeks.

On February 18, 2013, I went in for my first ultrasound. I was told that I had an "H" mole, which I didn't really understand, so I had to go to my OB and ask for an explanation. Well, as usual, she didn't tell me anything. She just had my blood extracted and asked me to go back the next day. When I went back to her, she was already handing me the admitting slip. She told me it was a Molar Pregnancy and that we need to "evacuate" the baby immediately because it could be harmful for me. I asked for a second opinion but she said it won't make any difference. She even had me pay 500 for that news. So when I got to my sister's house, where my whole family was, I begged them to ask my OB for one last ultrasound and surprisingly, the doctor agreed. I got admitted that night and got series of lab tests and blood extraction.

When they took me in for an ultrasound the next day, the 4 doctors who examined me had a different diagnosis. They saw the gestational sac and they didn't even see any sign of the "H mole".

Well, it was a miracle, just like how I got pregnant.

 NO, my tummy wasn't that big. We were just enjoying the moment. Who would have thought it would end so fast?

However, on March 5, 2013, 2 weeks after my last check-up, I started to spot. I went in for another ultrasound out of fear and again, they only saw a gestational sac, which had a really slow growth. Considering my PCOS, I assumed it was normal. I switched to another OB and she explained to me everything. She said women with PCOS rarely ovulate and even if we do, we ovulate late. So I was diagnosed "Threatened Miscarriage" and was put on complete bed rest for the next 2 weeks, which was why I immediately filed for my LOA for one whole year. (It was painful for me to give up my dream of becoming a lawyer soon, but I'd do anything for my little one.)

The spotting stopped for days. On March 14, 2013, I had very light bleeding. I went to the ER at 11PM and they did a pelvic exam, which showed that everything was normal and that I was "safe". They sent me home and asked me to go in for an ultrasound the next day and follow-up with my OB. So I went in to get an ultrasound the next day, and that's when I heard the bad news.

The sac stopped developing when I started spotting. 

It was either a blighted ovum or a missed miscarriage.
Either way, I had lost my little one.

My new OB was kind and explained to me everything. She gave me two options: to wait for another 2 weeks and hope that my body would expel it on its own or to get a D&C right away. I didn't know what to do or say during that very moment because, since my cervix was closed, I assumed my baby wasn't ready to give up on us just yet. So as crazy as it may seem, I talked to my baby and asked him/her for a sign if I should go on with the D&C or not.

I woke up the next morning and saw a tiny red heart-shaped spotting on my undies and I knew right then and there that I had to let go, because my baby couldn't do it on his/her own.

So I went to the hospital at 8AM (March 16, 2013) and booked for a D&C.

They gave me medication and had me wait for 10 hours. They did the procedure at around 7PM.

Imagine the pain I had to go through during those 10 hours. I was literally waiting to bleed out.

When I woke up after the procedure, I was bleeding like crazy, but I didn't mind it. I just cried and cried and cried because I knew my baby's already gone to heaven and it just didn't feel right.

I felt empty. 

I WAS EMPTY.

The last time my little one was inside me... :(

I just don't get it... My uterus was expanding. My breasts were sore and tender. My tummy was bloated. I was almost always asleep and tired. I took a complete bed rest for weeks, I even had to give up Law school. I took more than 40 pregnancy tests and all of them were positive. I had all the right pregnancy symptoms at the right time. So tell me, how can something so wrong feel so right?

 How can these NOT be perfect? :(

People might say, "If it's blighted or a missed miscarriage, then there wasn't a baby at all, so why are you even hurting?" Well, imagine having to enjoy motherhood for 2 months only for it to be taken away from you even before you got the chance to see your little one. Even though I never had that memory of jumping out of joy because I saw the heartbeat, I still have the right to lament my loss. A person is still a person, no matter how small. And trust me, even though the state-of-the-art ultrasound machines didn't see him/her, I know and I believe my baby was there. I know better, besides, I was the one holding my baby inside me and not those freaking machines.

S/he would have been born to this world on October 05, 2013.

S/he would have been the perfect little child. :(

Rest in peace, my little angel.

Mama and Daddy and ate Boogie will always love you. :)

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If my baby had lived... What would s/he look like? Would s/he be as hard-working as his grandparents? As strong as his aunts and uncles? As handsome as his father? As sweet as his ate Boogie? What would s/he be in the future? Would s/he be an accountant, a lawyer or a doctor? Or maybe a nurse or a teacher? Will I get mad at him for cutting classes and drinking during class hours? Will I be a protective mother when s/he decides to settle down?

I guess my questions will forever be left unanswered.