Naughty

Naughty was the name we gave to the first pet my two kids had. I had always been a dog-lover since I was a kid myself but when I had my own children I knew that having a pet dog would have several complications. So we did not have any pets at all until one day we heard the cries of a puppy somewhere near the house. The househelp said it came from the vacant area nearby and it was from a cute white puppy which was obviously abandoned by whoever it was that owned it. My two children and I went to the place where we saw a white and very cute puppy which seemed very lost. The abandoned puppy wagged its tail when I tried to whistle for it. However, thoughts of the complications of having one dog in the house made me decide against it but my kids wouldn't hear of it most especially when the puppy followed us. That was when I consented and adopted the puppy which was female, probably the reason why it was thrown away by its owner. We named her Naughty because she had been quite playful who destroyed many of our things. Naughty soon gave us more puppies than we could handle. Her first batch of litters consisted of nine healthy puppie of different colors: black, brown, white, spotted, striped. She delivered them inside the house and we even assisted her for she wanted us to be there when she delivered them one by one. That experience was followed by many more deliveries for even when she was already old, Naughty continued to bring forth more and more puppies.

Menopause

Most women are frightened of the idea of menopause because it brings with it a lot of unwelcome signs of aging, ill health, infertility, etc. According to those who have reached this phenomenon in their lives, menopause results to many mysterious illnesses ranging from headaches, hot flushes, muscle pains, itchiness, moodiness and the likes. However, there are some women who don't give a hoot about menopause and I am one of them. For me, I don't care. It is bound to come, so what? At 52, I must be on my menopausal stage now. I am not sure because I never have given this much thought until today. It struck me suddenly that I have not been entertaining my "monthly visitor" for many years now. Yes, and I mean many years for I had stopped buying sanitary napkins for a long, long time now. It just stopped without much ado. I could not even remember when it stopped coming. I do not have an OB-Gyne that I go to for monthly check up. I met my sister's OB-Gyne one day (she is also my acquaintance) and I just asked her opinion about some nagging pains I felt somewhere below the stomach and she retorted, "See me at my clinic so I can also make money." Ha,ha, ha. You bet I didn't show up at her clinic. I only did some water therapy and the pain just disappeared. You see, doctors have a way of giving labels to everything you feel. They give you illnesses in other words. At the moment I leave everything to Him. As I said in one of my posts, I have been confined in the hospital only twice during my two deliveries and I know that there is really someone greater who is taking care of us. Yes, I must have reached my menopause sans the headaches, itchiness, etc. My fertile days are over and I am not crying for they left without even saying goodlbye.

first job

I worked as editorial assistant at Philippine Journal of Education for almost a year with Mrs. Paz Marquez Benitez who was already 83 years old at that time but still actively editing the magazine. That was my first job and I loved it because it was my dream work---to get into a publishing company. In the morning I was assigned in the editorial office and in the afternoon I was working in the Cirlculation Department answering letters from subscribers. The editor, Mrs. Benitez , only worked mornings so we got to get out of the editorial office in the afternoon. My most unforgettable experience there was when the Managing Editor, Ret. Gen. Licuanan, gave me a tough assignment to direct/supervise the taking of pictures around Metro Manila for the whole year's back covers.Provided with a car and necessary provisions, we scoured the big and small places of Manila looking for suitable pictures to be taken that could be used for our monthly back covers for the entire year. The procedure was for us to first secure the permission of our subjects by letting them sign a waiver before we took their pictures. We were able to follow this procedure on all our thirty five shots except for the last one which was that of an ice cream vendor giving a cone of ice cream to a little boy. It was the photographer who said that it wasn't a good scene and the General surely wouldn't choose that. The photographer was very wrong. When proofs of the scenes we took were spread before the meticulous eyes of the General for him to choose to best photo to land on the back cover of our January issue, guess what he chose? Yes, he had his eyes on the photo of the ice cream vendor and the little boy whose pants were two sizes too big for him. When the General asked for the waiver, I knew that I should find and shoot the photographer for putting me into that situation. However, I had to save my neck, so I told the General quite bravely that I had all the waivers of all the photos except that." But I could give you the waiver you need in fifteen minutes", I assured Gen. Licuanan.
Like a General that he was, he commanded me to do just that. I rushed to the photographer and demanded for a blow-up shot of the picture immediately so I could read the address of the ice cream factory which was painted on the cart. He did it in seconds and I was out into the streets looking for that ice cream vendor whose signature could mean my getting axed from my first job or not. Luckily, after a few minutes of waiting, the man appeared . I told him that he was going to be on the back cover of our magazine, was it okay with him? He sheepishly smiled and asked if he had to pay for that. " No", I said, " all you need to do is sign the waiver form." And he did. I was back in the office before closing time and kept my first job.

Jesus

That's the name of my father---Jesus. But my father wasn't the son of God. In fact, he was one of the most unique fathers I've ever known. For one, he was the homemaker, the one who did the marketing and cooking for the family while my mother pedalled the sewing machine to support the family's needs. Indeed, ours was truly a unique family for it was my mother who earned the daily bread and it was my father who prepared our food. When my father was young, he used to be a drunkard and a chain smoker. He had gotten out of the first bad habit late in life but the smoking continued until he died at 72. But we all loved him although he had his bad side like his habit of picking fights with some neighbors. He was not afraid of anything. He was fierce and was always ready to start a fight with anyone who'd hurt or harm us. Ironically, he never hurt any member of the family. In fact he was always my mother's "errand man", never complaining, always aiming to please her. My friends and classmates would always compliment my father's good looks. He was a very handsome man who could sing like a pro while my mother was just a simple woman who could only carry a simple tune. They were an "odd" couple that was why nanay's sisters never approved of their relationship for they knew that my mother was just swept off by his good looks. He must have seen my mother's inner beauty for him to leave his first wife with whom he had eight children in order to be with my mother until he died.

second delivery

My second child was delivered in a local government hospital because the cost of giving birth in a private hospital was just too much. Anyway, babies just get delivered whether you have the money or not. What is important is that you know how to hold your breath and push properly. This I learned from my mother who only finished Grade 6. When I noticed blood spots on the ninth month, I wasted no time and went to the hospital, this time expecting to have my second child. Without much ceremony I was instructed to proceed to the delivery room where I once again revealed my "soul" to those around. In public hospitals patients do not have much choice. Hospital people just walk in and out of its swinging door and even the maintenance crew can get as much glimpse of what they are not supposed to see----your very soul. I was doing my labor in a most laborious fashion because the delivery table did not have any handles or clutches for me to hold on to as the pain progressed. My two arms were dangling from the sides of the bed and at that moment I only had the face of my mother as she demonstrated how a real "utong" can lead to a faster delivery. Yes! I made it after two "utongs". But the pains of giving birth does not stop there. The following morning when you're still bleeding and your wound is still fresh, a sweet young nurse who never had any child, comes in to tell you to stand up and wash. This is supposed to be "early ambulation" when mothers are encouraged to move around after delivery. But what the heck! This was my body and I knew when it was capable of moving and being washed. Likethe first time I followed my body. No. I did not stand up to wash myself for I felt like my body would split if I did. It was an aide who did that---that's their job.

Antonina

Many times in the faculty room I would overhear my co-teachers talk about how "bitchy" their mothers are or were, how their constant naggings destroyed their everydays. During those spontaneous exchanges or comparisons, I am proud to say that I have nothing of similar content to contribute for I had the most docile, kind, and peace-loving mother in the world. I did not or do not want to insult those who only have negative things to say about their mothers just because I only have good memories of "nanay". She had always been a dressmaker since time immemorial. She had sent all three of us to school through her earnings or income as an honest and good dressmaker. She'd skip meals, sleep late, wake up early just to finish work as promised to customers. We never heard her grumble nor complain about anything. And she did her best to feed, clothe and send us to school. There were times though that she had to say no to certain things we wanted for she just didn't have any extra cash for those. Like when I begged her that I wanted to enrol in ballet school. She never said that she could not afford it. She'd give reasons like it is not good for our fragile bodies and that it is just a waste of time. Secretly, I knew that it was the absence of extra money. Nevertheless, I still consider her as the best mother in the world. She gave us everything that she could afford without a grumble. She never uttered anything bad about anyone. In fact she had helped several neighbors who sought for her help. Nanay died at 82 spending much of her remaining years in darkness for my mother became blind due to catarract. If I only had the means at that time for a laser operation I would have made her few remaining years happier.

hospitals

I hate hospitals because my associations with them are all painful. Believe me, I only got confined in hospitals twice----when I delivered my two babies. After those times however, hospital trips became frequent---for consultation, immunizations, treatment, etc. The first time my first child was confined in the hospital was like nightmare. I must have been six to seven months pregnant of my second child at that time when my first one was having lbm and was vomiting and I did not know how serious that could get. It was my landlady who told me that dehydration could be a very dangerous consequence of lbm. Nervous to the point of breakdown, I scooped the child and took the first pedicab I saw. Dressed only in my old and tattered house dress I must have looked likeI have escaped from a nut house but I did not care about that. I was in a state of panic especially when a nurse started taking his measurements while he was lain on the examination table. Why was she doing that? Why were they not giving any medicines yet when they could see that the child was already weak and limp from vomiting? At that time when I was very scared the nurses were acting like nothing was happening and were drilling me with questions like "what did he eat?" "How many times did he make poo-poo?" I mean, how would I know the exact number of times? I did not even know that I was supposed to make a tally of this. At that moment while I waited for these people to give some medication to my sick son, it seemed like all the questions they were asking were irrelevant----the correct spelling of my family name, my address, where I worked, etc. For a scared mother like me, the questions sounded like, "What is your son's favorite color?" "Who is his favorite actress?" "What is his ambition in life?" "What is his motto in life?" They all sounded so stupid for asking those questions when they were supposed to give him treatment. He was confined on the 2nd floor and while there I expected that he would finally be given his medication but no, another nurse, a student nurse obviously, came in to ask me the same questions they had asked on the first floor! I mean, who wouldn't lose control? I said, didn't they give duplicates to all those who are interested of the answers to the same questions? My son needed treatment! That made the young nurse rush out of the room to tell those people there that I was angry.

giving birth Part II

Of course I did not die during my first delivery. If I did I wouldn't be able to post this. However, that initial experience at childbirth caused some amount of "fear" in me that I vowed never to have another one again. But fate just wins all the time and before I knew it I was already expecting another baby. I just had to accept everything as part of life. Unlike my first delivery which was in a private hospital for CDCP Mining employees, my second one happened in a public or government hospital. This time it was my mother who showed me how to make real successful "utong" for a successful and faster issue. I could still remember her face acting out, grimacing and holding her breath for a long, long time showing me how I could cheat by breathing for a sec and immediately pushing right after. I did just that and delivered my second baby after only two "utongs".

giving birth

One of the most harrowing but unforgettable experiences I had was giving birth to my two children. The first one was particularly difficult. I could remember vividly on September 16, 1983 that I was in my last morning class when I started to feel some pains around my stomach. I did not expect to give birth yet for my sister told me before this that I would experience terrible pains when I was going to deliver the baby. At that time the pain was just bearable so I thought it could only be some gas. I still did the cooking for lunch bearing the pain when I remembered what the doctor said on my last visit-- to see her when I felt any pain. So my husband and I headed to the hospital right after lunch. I told the nurse that I was there for check up because I was feeling some pain. The nurse pointed to a door marked "Delivery Room" so I said, "I am not here to deliver a baby. I am here for a check up." But she still motioned me to the delivery room. My heart began to beat wildly for I was not prepared to deliver a baby at that moment. My thoughts were negative, that I was not going to make it, that I was going to die. I cried like I've never cried before because I was so afraid at that time. As I stepped into that room, I was given a hospital gown and a pair of sanitized slippers. I could not believe it! I was going to have a baby and I did not know if I was going to make it or not. Stories had been told about how giving birth could cost the life of a woman. It is a woman's ultimate test of endurance and I knew that a woman so thin like myself at that time has little chances of surviving this test of tests.In the labor room I was instructed to do as I wished---lie down, stand up, whatever while experiencing labor pains. So I asked, "Isn't there any way of alleviating the pain?" The pain had progressed into unbearable level. It was only around 3:00 in the afternoon and the doctor said that I was going to have the baby middle of the night yet. Imagine having to bear the pain from three 0'clock until midnight. However, things have moved faster for at around 4:00 I felt something "burst" in where the baby was supposed to come out. So I called the nurse who immediately transferred me to the delivery room where I was shaved and prepared for the delivery. The doctor had to be recalled for I was going to have the baby at that moment and not at midnight. Then the ordeal began.A young nurse, obviously fresh from college and single, was giving me instructions as to how I was going to hold my breath and push when the time came. I did exactly as instructed but the progress was next to nothing. I could not push the baby out. Nurses were helping me by encouraging me to push. At eight 0'clock in the evening they became worried for I was supposed to deliver the baby already. The hospital at CDCP Mining in Basay did not have any equipment for a caesarian delivery so the doctor decided to cut me and pull the baby out. I closed my eyes when the doctor told me that she had given me local anesthesia so she could start cutting me there. I closed my eyes and said, "This is it. I am now going to die."