Dear Mom,
I’m scared.
I’m really, really scared.
I know I have always put on a defensive stance in almost all areas of my life. I appear to be fearless, independent, strong-willed.
And I am. I still am.
But today, September 14, I’m going to let this out in the open…
I am really scared…
When I first travelled abroad to pursue my dreams, you asked: “Are you not afraid of getting lost?”
I replied: ” Nope. I’ll just find my way back.”
When I decided to marry a man who is not a Catholic, you asked: “Are you sure you can handle that?”
I replied: “Of course, we both believe in the existence of Heavenly Father!”
When I became pregnant with twins, you freaked out and asked: “It’s hard enough to carry one, how will you be able to manage two?”
I replied with a big grin on my face: “I’m strong and healthy. I can do this.”
When I moved to China to join Jeff and start ‘growing’ our family there, you asked: “Can you manage a home with a husband and two toddlers without a stay-in nanny?”
I replied: “We have three stay out cleaners, I can surely manage.”
When I announced that we’re having a third baby, you were concerned and asked: “What will happen to the C-section scar?”
I replied: “Very little chance of uterine rupture.”
When I told you we’re moving to the US, you said: “That’s too far from the Philippines. I’ll miss the twins.”
I brushed off your comments and replied: “There’s always Skype and Facebook.”
I have been very independent, thanks to the way you’ve brought me up. I was able to stand on my own two feet and was more than prepared to face any challenges that came my way. With your brand of upbringing, I was able to fulfill my dreams and I’m still reaching a lot of them because you never doubted my power to do so.
And I’ve been pretty much fearless and stubborn; headstrong with a mind for strategic planning; in possession of a heart that is more than open to accept whatever happens along the way.
But today I declare that I’m scared.
Afraid.
Terrified.
Frightened.
I’m scared like I’ve never been scared before.
How does it feel to be induced for labor? Will this last overnight? What if complications happen? How did you do it with four kids? How did you keep your sanity? Or did you remain sane? Where can I get kamunggay to increase my milk supply?
How did you make sure I was still getting the much-needed attention even when Stephanie and then Hendrix, and then Kevin were born? How did you manage to raise all four children single-handedly with very little financial support? What did you do to make sure we all become achievers in schools while excelling in the arts and sciences we were interested in?
These things can’t be Googled, Mom.
No list verses exist to answer these questions. Not one comprehensive book has been published to address these concerns.
For they can only be answered by the ONE and ONLY YOU.
I’m writing this today, at 2:30 a.m. of September 14th, three hours before my scheduled induction (or maybe, a C-section) feeling really, really, really scared about what is to come. On this day, it will just be me and Jeff with an army of doctors and nurses to help us out.
Just this time, I admit I’m scared.
I really don’t know what to expect. I hope my wit and humor will work again this time in the same way that they calmed my nerves two years ago while I was on that operating table sliced open by doctors and nurses to take Nick and Toni out of my womb and say “hello” to the outside world.
I’m really scared Mom.
I really am.
But I will take comfort in the fact that while I’m drugged with pitocin today, you will be bombarding the Heavens with a lot of good drugs, otherwise known as prayers, to keep your dear stubborn daughter and her yet-to-be-born baby safe and away from harm’s way.
I’ll keep that thought in mind as I dig my fingers on Jeff’s skin, telling him how much I hate and abhor his very existence for getting me pregnant.
I’ll have that thought in mind too as I enjoy my first postpartum meal of rice and adobo as main course, and a brownie for dessert.
Then perhaps… I won’t be that scared.
Maybe a little scared. But not THAT scared.
Wish you were here,
Your firstborn
