Bad Mommy Confession #9

I don’t like doctors. After the way my thyroid condition has been treated by several doctors, I have formed a marked distaste and distrust for their kind.

So while it is advised to go to prenatal check-ups once a month, I have only so far gone once every trimester. I looked it up, the Department of Health only prescribes a minimum of four prenatal check-ups for every pregnant woman. I know, I should not trust government data either. Here is a fact I do believe. That our population increase is mostly propelled by unplanned pregnancies from poor families. Families that cannot afford doctors nor vitamins nor blood screenings. Despite all that supposed ‘boo-boos’, our population does not stop from increasing. Maternal mortality and morbidity even in far-flung areas are at 2% (FYI: Milenium development goal is 0).

Given those facts, I wonder, are they really necessary? Or at the very least, are they as necessary as they claim to be?

We went to the OB yesterday. It was distressing for me. I was told that my heartrate is too fast and it affects the baby. I should consult with my endocrinologist so that my thyroid medication dosage will be increased. I have read up extensively on the consequences of a mother with hyperthyroidism with her baby. Aside from passing it on to the baby, which I am certain I will since my baby is a girl, on severe circumstances I can undergo pre-term labor or have a small baby.

Those consequences are not so bad. I know that my thyroid is not severely acting up. I would know since I have experienced it at its worst 4 years ago. What stressed me out was my OB telling me that I better control my thyroid or I face heart failure during delivery.

I know that possibility already. What I did not like was the insensitivity to how it was delivered to me. I am 7 months pregnant and I have a hyperactive thyroid. A doctor should know better than to further upset the mother by threatening her with death.

Worse, they threaten mothers with possibility of death, but they do not have it in them to clearly articulate the reasons and the causalities they use in arriving at such a conclusion.

I do not know if some of the mothers are luckier than I am. But I have been to my OB twice. Both times she did her measurements on my vital signs without explaining why. There are acronyms written on my ‘pregnancy book’ that she did not even bother to explain. I know I should have asked but I went there yesterday to ask two things actually: what are the things I should expect for the next three months and what are the classes or any steps I can or should take to prepare for them?

Both questions were not answered adequately. I made up my mind to look for another OB next week.

I wish doctors can be more transparent

Make a list of all the things that I should be monitoring on a regular basis – my heartrate, my BP, my blood count, the composites found in my urine, etc. Then indicate what kind of results are alarming and when it is imperative I should go to them. I personally never liked going to the doctor just to be told that I am okay since I can read the results myself and I already know that I was okay. And since all they do is look at the result then tell me I am okay, why do I have to pay full consultation fee each time I visit?

Sigh, my arguments against doctors are valid. I am sure that they equally valid counterarguments. But it does reek of exploitation when they scare people into doing something just because they are the only ones with the technical expertise. They keep on insisting on medication and higher dosages. But none of them will take accountability for the fact that the medication I am taking now is actually bad for my liver. The thyroid medication I have been taking for years now causes liver damage. The damage is supposed to heal as soon as I stop taking my medication, but I have not been able to. It looks like it will be my maintenance medication.

What I know is, only keeping myself happy is the surest and SAFEST way to calm down my hyperactive thyroid. Why don’t they talk about that instead?

I am pushing myself at work. No question about it. I am sure I am also partly to blame for my fast heartbeat. I took on two other jobs for the month. I am managing two major projects in my current work, both of which I believe in enough to continuously subject my body and my baby to this much pressure.

Finances play a role, but truth is we have fixed our finances with regard our baby. Everything is in line that we can afford the costs and the stuff we needed for the baby. I can quit after this month and not have to worry that we will not afford it. So something else is making me continue working.

I wanted this project since last year. I know the topic better than anyone in the office. The possibility of making change happen that will improve the way government goes about delivering service to their constituents, that is the real purpose of work for me.

I admit this in my blog because I wonder if I should feel guilty for continuing to go after what I want while my body and my daughter are still in danger.

Not Up for Shopping

Uhm.. Hi… I am Antithetical Mom. I used to be a shopaholic.

Rest of the Group: Hi Antithetical Mom.

It has been a year since I last pulled out my credit card to swipe away my depression and to buy myself some happiness. I dropped my addiction cold turkey. I am happy to say that I am rid of the habit.

Not that I have not made any clothing or shoe purchases over the past year. I have. I just stopped buying them for any other reason than because I need them.

Rest of the group: Good work, Antithetical Mom.

———————————–

Getting rid of my shopping fixation does create some challenges. I am now in my third trimester and I still have nothing, zero, zilch, nada prepared and stocked for my baby. Twelve weeks to go and I still cannot muster the frenzy and energy I used to have in excess to start buying stuff.

We will go around the mall and look at the cute baby stuff and I feel nothing. I am curious and I take note of the prices and the brands. I remember the stuff that seem useful. But I still don’t have the urge to buy.

I am sure I am a disappointment to my previous self. I cannot even finish working on my Baby Checklist page. My life, my money, my daily existence used to revolve around my shopping list. Now, I can’t finish one for the baby.

I always start with doing a thorough inventory. I used to love spending my nights poring over magazines, looking at my closet, making lists.

I do not seem to have the energy to undergo the process for now. Sigh.

———————————————

There are some things I am sure I will buy (Although I do not know when). So far, the following are ‘tattoed on my mind’:

• A breast pump, still deciding on the brand
• A nursing pillow
• Tushy wushies
• Nursing bras

Things I want to make or wish someone will make it for me:

• Swaddling blankets
• Terry cloth towels and towellettes
• Bibs
• Diaper bag

I really like the thought of sewing these stuff myself. I see myself buying colorful swatches of cloth. Simple patterns and sewing them together. And our shack and our baby will be surrounded by happy colors.

At my rate though, such happy thoughts are almost like delusions.

——————————————-

Going around the baby section in malls do not bring a rush. I guess it is because I still do not know what my baby will really need that is why the stuff still doesn’t mean much to me.

I see a one year old in our neighborhood who constantly runs and plays around naked all the time. The dude seems happy and healthy albeit dirty. Makes me wonder about the value added from buying cutesy baby clothes.

Nostalgia, Memories, Realizations

My Sunday was spent walking down memory lane. With the help of the complete Ally Mc Beal DVD series, I was able to look back to how my life was 14 years ago.

Funny, I believe I was in fifth grade when I started watching the show. Watching it again now, I find the show a bit dragging. Ally’s and John’s quirks a little too much. Billy was not as great nor ideal for me now than seen from a 12 year old girl’s eyes. The issues really were a decade behind the times and David Kelly’s other legal series, Boston Legal, was so much more interesting.

Despite all that, I still found myself crying at the same scenes that made me cry before. I do not like Ally’s whinings about her life’s plan, but I do like and relate to the show’s message about love, life, and friendship in general. I used to think Ally was so old. Now, her character in the show was 28, just three years older than me.

I thought that I will be living her life. I will be a lawyer, I will have friends, I will have the clothes, I will have a car, I will have a nice apartment… BUT I will be alone. It will be a life spent chasing guys after guys, clothes, the ideal love, bridesmaid during weddings, and all the other spinster cliche. I was ready for that.

Life turned out differently for me.

I am not a lawyer. I like my clothes but they are hardly the most important expense in my budget. No car. I have a small and cozy shack. I have friends.I have spent my college years and few years after that being around guys, splurging on clothes, mocking love, hating weddings. I think I did the circuit and the dance too early. Because now…

I am not alone. I am living with a man I love and who loves me back just as much. I will have a baby in three months. My career is going as planned. Life contains promise for me and Pong and our baby. I have it at 25. I thought I was going to have these things at 35.

———————————————-

John Cage told Ally that if she looks back at the past year and it did not bring tears of joy or sorrow, then it was a year wasted.

I looked back to how my life was for the past twelve months. I saw Pong, being in love with Pong, being happy with Pong, being hurt because of Pong. I saw myself deciding to fight it out with Pong against society, my family, my friends. I remembered being betrayed, being disappointed, being disillusioned with people I trusted. I remember how hard it was to start off a life with Pong. How demanding it was at work. How ironic it was that on the same day that I got the Chevening scholarship, I found out I was pregnant.

I juxtaposed the people who faded away during the tough times and the people who stepped up. The people who disappeared and the people who came. Friends I lost and friends I made.

Then the tears came. It was both of joy and sorrow.

—————————————————-

One of the people I lost during the past year was my best friend, Lala. Pong and Lala never quite got along and Pong pulled a sick prank on Lala. I guess she was never much of a sport since she disappeared and stopped talking to me altogether for the past 6 months.

I think of her now because we used to watch Ally McBeal at the same time. We even used to spend afternoons singing the soundtrack in her room. We have post-show discussions. We were both giddy about the whole plot.

Today, thinking about it, about her finally answered some of the questions in my mind about what happened.

It was silly after all. How can it be enough reason for a friend to disappear on her friend during such an important time? She missed most of my pregnancy. She will miss the birth of my baby. To be honest, I do not miss her presence at all.

I now realized that I must not be seeing her and our friendship for what it really was for the longest time. We are different people. We remained friends because of our history together. I remember her getting so pissed at me because I seem to like all the wrong guys for her, while I hate the guys that she did like. Then it hit me, my concept of her was the same one since we were in sixth grade.

Despite a lot of the things that happened to me, some basic things never changed since then. Lala changed. And I never saw that. I just thought that she would be the same. I guess that is why we were so off over some things. I never adjusted.

Pong hated her from the start. He thought she was a phony and vain. She was also a brat. And superficial. He pulled off the prank on her as a petty revenge because he knew how much she was hurting me during the past months. I am not sourgraping now. But I have to admit, in hindsight, those things are so true.

Seventeen years of friendship down the drain.

It was because I never really knew her. It was because I never adjusted. It was because I stopped seeing her for who she really was.

Knowing this now puts our friendship in perspective. I loved the Lala I knew. She is not the same person now, but who is? I will always cherish the walks, the laughs, the adventures, the cheap thrills. I wish her happiness. Finally, a nice goodbye… even if it is just in my mind.

———————————————–

I have lost a lot of female friends over time. I now realize what the problem was. I think I did not see them for who they really are. That is why I am so disappointed most of the time. That is why I feel so betrayed all the time.

Because for some reason, I am sure it was my fault, I somehow have ideas of them that do not match who they really are. I must really be a dude since these miscommunications and mishaps usually happen between girls and guys, not girls and girls.

Pong told me outright how much he respected Mr. Maines. One of the best people to ever come in my life during the time I needed a friend the most. I think he sees me more of an older sister. But he has been solid and dependable and he has been a reprieve from the drama of girl world. This guy understood me. He never had to ask how he should be there. He was just there. He made me smile. Life is cool when he is around. Really cool.

I get along better with guys. They are easier to talk to. But then, they can be boring at times. This is where gay friends come handy.

They make me laugh at their bitchiness. Their dramas are funny even if it is really serious. They can go shopping with me. They have no qualms about sex. They fall in love stupidly, luckily they get over them quickly as well.

Gays do tend to have so much going on in their lives they are hard to catch up with. This is where girl friends are supposed to be best.

They are there for weekends. They are there for lunch. They are loyal. They will take on a cat fight for me.

Sigh. Girl world just have different rules. I am not in touch enough with my feminine side to understand.

They will never admit it but they will hate you because you have what they do not have. They will secretly be happy when you are miserable with them. They will say your problems matter but you will notice that they are taking your problems so much more personally than seemly: that is because they think of your problems as a manifestation of their own. They are petty. They will be devastated because you are happy.

They are not evil. Although for me those traits constitute hypocrisy. They will never tell these things to your face because they do not want to hurt you. But they do like to kick around your ego from time to time.

It is just a dichotomy. They really will sincerely be happy for you and consequently be sad for themselves. They will truly and genuinely love you and simultaneously talk badly about you behind your back. They will be there when you are sad but they will also take comfort in your plight, knowing that they are not alone.

I should now understand and accept. People can really be confusing.

I am now surrounded with people who are exactly who they claim to be. The simplicity makes life easier for me. I am thankful. I do miss them. It was fun being around them during the good times. Maybe in time, I will learn to adjust. I will see them for what they really are and not for what they say they are.

I maintain friendships with a very varied group. So it really is not about my lack of tolerance for different personalities. It is just my lack of sensitivity and understanding to what some people really meant when they say some things that made me lose friends.

—————————————————-

Realizations on a Sunday night.

They are enlightening and in a way relieving. For some people, they hate it when blame falls on their shoulder. They will deny, reject, and close out any possibility that it was also their fault.

I find the opposite to be true. I find relief when I finally clearly see my faults. It seemed simple but this has haunted me for some time now. Now I know. Now I understand. It was my fault too. I want to say I am sorry for everyone I unconsciously hurt but I really had no idea at that time. I am sure some of them had an inkling of what my problem was but they never told it to my face. Or maybe they said it already,  I was just too dumb to understand what they meant.

————————————————

Nostalgia and memories are funny companions on Sunday nights. They bring humility and clarity in one big serving.

Empathy

I laughed at Marshall and Lily of ‘How I Met Your Mother’ in one episode when they claimed that they feel each other’s stomach pain. Now, I am validating that claim in my own experience during pregnancy.

As is obvious, the closest person to me now is the Pong. There is an old-wives tip that pregnant women should step over their partners so that the craving and vomiting will be passed on to the guy. I am pretty sure I have done that to Pong several times already, albeit not deliberately. He sleeps longer than I do, and I am usually up and about earlier than he is during weekends so that stepping over him, walking all around him is unavoidable.

I know that I haven’t had any insane pregnancy cravings. I had an intense vomiting spell though. My tummy was the epitome of picky for the past six months. Until now, onions scare me. No to MSG, oily food, softdrinks, iced tea. No to pork. No to junk food. I just had to strictly stick to healthy foods and I am fine. No cravings. Just sensible eating.

Pong was the one to crave. He kept on asking me if I want cinammon rolls but he is the one who really wants them.

Now, I think I pick up Pong’s aches and pains and moods… or vice versa.

At almost 7 months, I was told that migraines will be common. Of course, mood swings, backaches, tight muscles are also regular symptoms. I am sure that the high stress levels in my workplace contributes to this. But, I also think that Pong’s moods are affecting me too.

I get irritated even when I am supposed to be in a good mood. I get headaches even during down times at work. I often match those instances to high stress times for Pong.

It is bad news for me if I am empathetic to Pong’s stress levels. He is panicky. He also has a worse boss than I do. I see him literally getting himself ill because he is worrying over work. Sigh.

I am not the one who is in need of a vacation or at least a soothing massage. It seems if I am to feel good, I have to make sure Pong is feeling well too.

Hmmmm. Even when I came from a logically unsound proposition – that couples can absorb each other physical and emotional conditions- the solution was startlingly sound. They keep on saying that pregnancy is the time to take care of the mother. Apparently, both parents should be given ample attention and care during pregnancy to ensure well-being of the baby and the mother.

Mommies, what do you think?

Registry Item: Baby First Aid Kit

I would be really grateful if anyone will gift me/ us with a baby first aid kit and medicine chest. I think this is one of those things that we tend to overlook but will turn out to be very useful in the long run. Based on an online checklist I read, a medicine chest/ first aid kit should include:

• Digital thermometer
• Infants’ non-aspirin liquid pain reliever (acetaminophen or ibuprofen)
• Topical calamine lotion or hydrocortisone cream (1/2 percent) for insect bites and rashes
• Rubbing alcohol to clean thermometers, tweezers, and scissors
• Petroleum jelly to lubricate thermometer
• Antibacterial ointment for cuts and scrapes
• Tweezers for splinters and ticks
• A pair of sharp scissors
• Child-safe insect repellent
• Nasal aspirator bulb syringe for drawing mucus out of a stuffy nose (not the pointy-ended ear syringe)
• An assortment of adhesive bandage strips in various sizes and shapes.
• Sterilized cotton balls
• Cotton-tipped swabs
• A medicine dropper, oral syringe, or calibrated cup or spoon for administering medicines
• A heating pad
• A hot-water bottle and ice pack

The list above is a good starting point. It contains too much chemicals for my taste though. Hello, hydrocortisone for my baby? I will be using the same synthetic chemicals on my infant that baseball players like Gary Sheffield and Barry Bonds pertain to as ‘The Cream”. So a few more Google clicks led me to this nice article from the Business Mirror site – The Nanay Diaries. The writer was a first time mom who relied on her elder ‘yaya’ to guide her through the daily complexities of raising an infant. What I liked most is the list of herbal/ natural remedies for common baby illnesses. Here is the list:

• Aceite de Manzanilla to be rubbed on baby’s tummy after his morning and evening bath to avoid kabag, or gas. When rubbed on the back and on the legs when baby is being massaged, the soothing smell of chamomile eases baby into sleep.
• Aceite de Alcamporado, which contains 20 percent oil of eucalyptus, is applied very, very lightly when baby has cough. Nanay advises to smear just a little on baby’s chest as the mentholated oil may sting, even burn his skin, when applied too much.
• Eucalyptus, which comes in a tiny medicine bottle and at P20, is for when baby has colds. A drop or two on a cotton ball pinned on baby’s shirt can ease baby’s runny nose. Or, you can pin the cotton ball to the electric fan or air conditioner to fill the air with the aroma of eucalyptus.
• Vinegre Aromatico, a skin tonic used in baby’s bath. A capful in his tub helps keep baby’s skin smooth.
• VCO, or virgin coconut oil, preferably the cold-pressed type. A natural disinfectant, dab VCO on baby’s mosquito bites, on his rashes, on his forehead when he has baby acne, and on his scalp to avoid cradle cap or flaky scalp
• Butter, to be rubbed on the baby’s gums to ease the cracking of the gums during teething.

Okay, here. The list looks quite complete already.

On Motherhood Statements

WordPress has replaced Google as my favorite search engine for insights, tips, and common experiences on the various baby-related topics like pregnancy, motherhood, breastfeeding, etc.

Unlike Google results, I have a better chance of coming across real nuggets of wisdom from fellow moms instead of market-driven magazine articles that are actually advertisements with a cleverly written story on them. I prefer to read up on stories.

The following links lead to blogs and sites that made me smile, cry, or rethink some of my ideas on motherhood.

This has got to be the most reassuring quote I got from my blog search:

“You get a do-over,” someone wise once told me. “You get to reshape motherhood. You get to let go of the example provided to you. You get to make it anything you want it to be.”

 

That quote alone gave a whole new meaning, challenge, and hope for my motherhood experience. The article is even better. Here is my favorite part:

 

Here’s what I know, this morning: if I ever lost my girls for any reason, I would never feel free again. My freedom lies in the possibility that they’ve shown me. They’ve given me a joyful home, a happy family, a burning desire to do whatever I’m doing for precisely the right reasons, always. My girls have made me responsible for leaving their world a better place, and in doing this work in any small way, my heart expands as well. Becoming a mother has helped me realize that perhaps it wasn’t simply freedom that I was after all of those years ago. I think it was purpose. I think it was possibility. Motherhood has provided me with all of these gifts.

 

These are the things that this has cost me: time, money, and the ability to travel as much as I would like. But this is what I know motherhood has provided me: perspective. My girls are growing older every single day. We’re finding our freedoms returned to us. Slowly, there is space and there are resources to do anything we may have wanted to do when we were in our twenties.

 

But because I am a mother, I know how I want to spend that time. I know how I want to spend that money. I know where I want to go. How I want to get there. There will be meaning inside of these experiences that wasn’t there when I was twenty-five.

 

Ironically, motherhood has given me roots. It has also given me wings.

 

Beautiful. Six months into pregnancy and I do feel a tinge of what this mother feel. Truth is, I feel the same way about Pong. I bemoaned my loss of freedom and the hardships that come along with commitment. But now, her last sentence could not be more apt. In our love, I found a home. In that home lies endless possibilities.

 

Another blogsite I liked is PhD in Parenting. This sharp mom stands up for everything this antithetical mom believes in. In this blog post, the writer explores the meaning of feminist motherhood and how she has applied her own feminist belief system in her own married and family life.

 

I am copying here the writer’s answer to the question – “Do you feel feminism has failed mothers and if so, how? Personally, what do you feel feminism has given to mothers?” 

“I think that feminism has failed mothers in countries where they have the equal right to work, but no right to a decent length of paid parental leave. These mothers are forced to either put their child in day care at a very early age or accept a traditional stay at home mom role, where they are dependent on their partner. I think that feminist mothers should be able to choose to spend some time nurturing their children without having to significantly compromise their career or their financial security to do so.

I think feminism has failed mothers when it makes them feel that they have to be super mom and super woman every day. We are told that we need to have “balance” in our lives, but for many working mothers that means working extra hard at their job, working extra hard at being a mother and working extra hard at being a wife. I don’t feel that it is reasonable to always have balance between those three areas. And I think that feminists need to seek out relationships with employers (or be your own boss!) and life partners that recognize that and that are willing to ride the waves and ebbs and flows together.

I think feminism has failed mothers when it tells them that choosing to stay at home is not a valid choice.

I think feminism has given mothers more choice and more freedom. It has made it acceptable to want more than to just stay home and raise kids. But it also needs to make it acceptable to choose to stay home. Going back to my first answer, to each according to her or his abilities and desires. This needs to be worked out by each couple and I don’t think that the choice to have a parent stay home, whether it is the father or the mother, should ever be seen as wrong or backwards. As long as it is a choice that is entered freely and equally.”

I hold a fondness and admiration for black women. They have the swagger, the ass, and the voice. They can dance, sing, and beat the s*&t out of you. I love their flair and sense of style that is unapologetic and decidedly strong. I came across two mama blogs already.

Single Ma and Just Mama.

They are just a sample. What I liked most about their stories are the decidedly anti-maintstream thinking to motherhood. Single Ma’s latest blog post is on saving money on buying school supplies. While this post by Just Mama depicts realities of ‘black motherhood’.

“Black motherhood has always looked different, after all we didn’t need to fight for the right to work, shit we were working from day one when we landed in this country. Yet we raised kids who were good even when we had no time to spend and no money to give.

So, I think mini-me and I will be ok, yes she may end up watching too much tv when I am on a deadline but as elder boy tells me too much TV didn’t rot his brain back when I was a single parent and had to rush home to make dinner so he had to entertain himself with Rugrats and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air back in the mid-1990’s. This is a kid whose summer reading included Kurt Vonnegut and that was just for fun.

No, motherhood takes many forms and we can’t allow others to define it for us.”

I like her approach to parenting. It doesn’t advocate the excessive ‘baby-ing’ of children. You don’t have to apologize for working. And hey, even if the kids grow up in a less than homey environment, they will be fine.

The Mom Gene

As a young girl, I never dreamt of one day having a family of my own. As a teenager, marriage was the farthest thing from my mind. In college, I never spent days wondering about how or what kind of mother I will be.

I have wished that I will be so many things my whole life. Being a mom was not one of them. That mom-gene is yet to fully manifest itself.

However, there was this moment over the weekend that I finally noticed that I just might have motherhood in me after all.

We were lazily reading the papers last Saturday, when I came across an article stating that more and more legislators are now supporting the family planning and reproductive health bill.

I have always supported this act. The Catholic Church has done it best to prevent the passage of a bill that will enable and inform families of their options in planning out their families.

I remember making a presentation before in a policy class saying that abortion and family planning should be legalized by the state. As I remember my cocky 18 year old self arguing for that policy, I suddenly feel myself cringing at the thought of an abortion.

Four years ago, while drinking beer with college buddies, they asked me whether I was willing to commit abortion. I answered that if I were 16 or 18 or even 21, I would be willing to. But if I were 24 or older already, I would not. My consideration was my capability to be a parent.

Now, I ask myself whether I can still in good conscience advocate for state-supported abortion.

My baby is alive inside me. I feel her moving and playing inside me. I cannot imagine deliberately ‘getting rid of’ or ‘dealing with’ it.

But my arguments when I was 18 still hold true. That there are sectors in our society that has to resort to even more inhumane methods because abortion is outlawed in the country. These women, I am in no position to judge their reasons nor do I want to, still decided that abortion is better than having a baby. That should be a hard choice for anyone. And the state deliberately makes it harder for them.

As someone carrying a living being inside of her, my heart goes out to all the women who made the decision to have an abortion in this country. Society and our culture already ensured that such a choice would render the woman guilt-ridden and traumatized. The existing laws in the country, defined by the elitist section of the Catholic Church, makes the choice much awful than it already is.

As a mom-to-be, I cannot vocally cheer on abortion as a choice. But as a woman, here in the Philippines, I can only imagine how hard it must be or have been for them.

Defining Family

I got a letter from Pong before he left for Bohol two days ago. One line stood out in my head, “You, Mimimi and Minimi, are my family.”

He has given me too many petnames. He likes calling our coming daughter Mini-Mi. Even if we have been together for a year and we have gone through so much together, I think this is the first time Pong explicitly pertained to me and us as family.

I have not been in touch with my family for some time. And growing up, my concept of family has always been too vague, too dispersed for me to make any sense of it at all.

As a teenager, my friends were my family.  Then, we started growing apart. I made new friends and I lost some old friends. Then I reach another phase in my life, then I lose old friends again and make new ones.

So, my idea that my friends were my family has been invalidated.

There are family members and friends who are still around. They showed me what family really is. The following anecdotes demonstrated best the times I felt family:

—————————————–

For some reason, I prefer my father’s approach to dealing with me compared to my mom’s. I remember getting an angry text from him almost a year ago asking me what it is that I want from them. I told him pointblank, I believe I have exercised good judgment all my life. I have delivered for you and our family day-in and day-out. I think you should just trust me on this.

His reply was typically succint, Okay, I trust you.

—————————————

My younger brother sent me a message a few months back. He told me how happy he was for me that I am having a baby.

This is the same kid I used to bully around when we were young. I think I pushed him off the stairs one time. Made him cry too many times. He also stole money from my wallet, went klepto on my things, hogged the phone, and other things.

He also always adored me. Even if my presence makes his faults seem worse. Even if his academic performance pales compared to mine. Even if he was constantly made to feel like a real loser for not being like me.

He did not care. He did not care about the fact that I am not married. He did not care that our parents do not approve of my boyfriend. He did not care that my plans for studying abroad and giving them more money were stalled.

Only one he cared about was me.

—————————————–

I have a close friend. I informed her through text that I was pregnant. It was definitely a shocker since she has not even met Pong at the time.

They were a devoutly Catholic family and I was an unmarried pregnant woman. But I, including Pong, was welcomed in their house with open arms. No questions asked. No judgment as well.

They offered their cozy house, happy company, and delicious Italian dinner.

———————————————

The most insulting thing I was ever told regarding my pregnancy was ‘nandiyan na yan’ (It is there already).

As if my baby was some unbearable physical deformity that we will have no choice except to dress around in. As if it was an awful stain in an otherwise pristine dress.

I am thankful that for every idiot who uttered those words, many other people came up and simply said:

A baby is always a blessing. Congratulations.

————————————–

Saying I had a tough year is an understatement. In a lot of ways, my mom, my relatives, my friends were right to fret, to worry, to panic about me. It was every bit as hard as they could have imagined. Actually, it was harder.

Blaming did not help. Regret did not help. Asking ‘if only’ did not help. Crying for me did not help.

The only things those things succeeded in doing was to irritate me some more. As if they are the ones who are going through shit. As if they were asking me to make them feel better during the times when I was going through shit.

What did help are free chocolate sundaes, free baked zitis, a homecooked putanesca, company during lonely weekdays, an open and welcoming house for the weary and hungry, sincere hugs, hilarious sex stories, and other simple things.

———————————-

Two months ago, I had a fight with my friend J Slut.

It was nasty. I was really tired and he was bugging me non-stop. So we got into a fight. No kid gloves. We were hitting at each other with the ugliest dirt we had on each other.

It sucked for some time. But we took what was real from the fight and we shrugged it off a week after.

Not many can take that kind of venom and be completely cool after. He said he is still looking forward to taking my baby for a stroll in the park on a London autumn. We will escape to Scotland for a weekend to ogle Scots in kilts.

For that, my daughter will call him Uncle J.

————————————–

I think I was the first to treat Pong as my family. He may have said I love you first, but I was the one to prove it first.

All I know was that despite the odds, the ugliness, the pain, the hardships, I went through, I decided I am not the one who will let go. I was not the one who will break. It was okay if he decided to do so. I was ready if he made that choice. But the decision of whether we can work out rested on him.

I saw him at his worst. I endured his fears. I faced his worries and his baggages. I carried and pushed his problems with him. When there was nothing I can do about them, I had to continue urging him on even if it was hurting me.

No blaming, no regrets, no conditionalities. I did not think about myself or the fact that I was hurt, I was tired, or it was getting heavier.

Here is how I define family:

I will love you no matter what.

Hyperthyroidism During Pregnancy

I have been diagnosed and treated for hyperthyroidism for five years now. It is more of an imbalance in the body rather than a disease, so it really is not something that can be treated. Rather it is maintained.

Hyperthyroidism is more common with women than with men. It is hereditary. Critical times when women get hyperthyroidism are the onset of menstruation, pregnancy, and menopause. All these events trigger intense hormonal changes in a woman.

Mine worsened during college. The combined stress, genetic predisposition, and vices in college have contributed to my hyperthyroidism. I started losing weight, then I started getting weak. It was two or three years ago when I found a solution to maintain my thyroid condition. Although I have kept my thyroid, and its pesky symptoms, in check for the past two years, I still had problems with my period. It tended to be too little during times of stress. There are times when I do not have it at all.

Anyway, I am taking PTU once a day to maintain my thyroid during pregnancy. The doctor said that PTU does not cross the placenta so I should not worry that my baby will be harmed. They said that my hyperactive thyroid can cause my baby to have an underdeveloped thyroid since my extra hormones are suppressing her own. I don’t know yet the exact causalities.

I am now in the middle of my 6th month and I have been feeling some symptoms arising. I think I should get my blood tested again this weekend before going for my prenatal check up.

I get tired easily. I think my heartbeat is stronger lately. I obviously have been irritated here in the office often. I have not been sleeping well.

Although the tremors are not showing, I am also not talking faster than usual, my hair is not falling off at an alarming rate.

Though someone here in the office said that I look like I lost weight. Darn.

Thankfully, my heart rate and my blood pressure are within normal range so far.

I know I have been immense pressure here in the office. I am also in a lot of pressure to save up enough for the baby. My brain has been sharp and it feels like it hasn’t rested in a few days. It could be because of stress that is why my hormone levels are up.

It could also be that my physical condition is normal for someone this far along.

I think I am going for a nap.

Sunday Blah Blah

This post will be in random, not one topic in particular.

——————————————————-

I am left alone for a couple of days. Pong is out for a work trip. Even worse, he will be out of the country for a week by the end of the month. So first question, what do single people do these days?

I have been with Pong for more than a year. It is not that long but it is enough for me to establish a new routine and forget what I used to do when I was single. I know that I liked being single. I remember looking forward to opportunities like this when I was in previous relationships. I used to take advantage of ‘off’ seasons for me to date other guys.

Hmmm, several days. Let us see what is up for me.

—————————————————–

In line with the whole single days, I just finished eating gellato with my friend Philip. Came back for summer from postgraduate studies in Europe. I got Belgian chocolates which sadly melted because he walked to Amici from the train station.

I am now happily licking off the soft chocolate from its case.

Gellato and chocolates on Sunday afternoon, any more single than that?

—————————————————–

My officemates have been chiding me about my ratty wallet.

It is more than three years old. A birthday gift from my aunt. It is not that expensive but it has been very functional and loyal for the past 3 years. It is Dorothy Perkins. She has served me well. I think she can still do the job more than adequately.

I have a cream Liz Claiborne wallet lying around. I can easily replace my wallet but I feel bad just thinking about replacing her.

Dorothy came at the right price, fromsomeone who loves me, given on my birthday. She has served me well. I never found myself wanting all the time I had her. I’m still not ready to let go.

———————————————————–

I have been getting bumpier lately.

I am thankful for the onslaught of Hollywood babies, it made being fashionable during maternity possible. So for this week, I got myself two new tops both on a bargain.

Gray round neck shirt from Giordano, it has side shirring and it is made with stretchy cloth. Basic and versatile. Can be worn with jeans or skirts. Easy enough to mix with blazers and cardies.

Brown bubble top by Zara. I think Pong was sad to leave me behind, so he tried to buy my happiness instead. I think looking at it is enough to make me happy until tomorrow.

I am still in search for that oh so elusive jazz pants.

—————————————————————–

I am off to stay at a girlfriend’s house later. Good thing she is staying in tonight. I get to be with a girlfriend. I might bring some DVDs and we can just have the classic girly slumber party. Or skin and hair products sound good too.