The Whole 9 Yards

Good morning. I’ve been journalling a lot recently but I thought that I could share my introspection session with the online world on this monday morning. I am still pregnant. Tomorrow is Amelia’s due date, and I’m still hoping that my water breaks anytime today so that we won’t have to induce labor. Two weeks ago, my doctor said that 95% of babies aren’t born on their due date, so I should expect to give birth anytime within the past two weeks. I haven’t yet so.. maybe Amelia will be part of that 5%. I always loved her due date though, 16 is such a pretty number, and it used to be my family’s number when my parents were still together.

I did go to the hospital a few nights ago because my contractions were getting intense, but they sent me home because I was only 1.5 CM dilated. Since then, I’ve been watching the liquid coming out down there, making sure it isn’t amniotic fluid leaking. So far, it’s still pee. I also have a hard time pooping because now that I’m literally a day away from our due date, I’m afraid I might accidentally push the baby out.

My mom’s been telling me to have sex. I’ve been reading a lot about how to induce labor normally and that comes out a lot. But personally, I’m not comfortable in having sex because we tried it once a few weeks ago and it hurts too much… but doing it now I’m also scared to get pregnant again right away. So sex won’t be in the cards for a few months. I’ve been trying the yoga positions to induce labor too which help my back aches but I don’t think it’s doing anything to speed up my labor.

So how am I feeling? Physically, my body is aching everywhere. My feet and hands are swollen, my back hurts, my legs hurt, my contractions come every time I walk, and everytime I look in the mirror I just don’t look like myself anymore. It’s okay though, just a little more sacrifice until I meet my little one. It’s all worth it.

Emotionally, I’m so ready to meet my baby. There are no words for how happy I am to enter this new chapter of my life. I’m excited to start motherhood because I know this has always been what’s meant for me. I’m ready. And there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be an amazing mother.

One hot day in September last year, I decided to go for a swim. I put my bikini on, took some selfies, and posted a photo on my story. I was feeling quite a bit self conscious around that time, so I needed an ego boost from reactions on instagram. Then I get a message from this random person that goes “you’re a lil fat”. Fuck this guy.

You know what I did next? I cried in the shower and cut my hair short. After my shower, I stared at my body. Nitpicking on the things I should work on. My thighs are too big, my butt can be better, and I want model abs. Eventually, I acknowledged that little random message on instagram… maybe I did put on some weight.

Then and there I started to spiral down into my thoughts. Thinking about all the things wrong with me. When I caught myself, I realized that I was different. On a normal day, I would usually brush off comments like that, especially coming from a total stranger online. But for some reason, I was more emotional and more impulsive than usual. Then it popped in my head – am I pregnant? I wasn’t late for my period or anything but something felt off. So I decided to take a pregnancy test.

The pregnancy test came with two sticks. I peed on the first one. That minute of waiting for the result was the longest minute of my life. In those 60 seconds, I was convincing myself that it was nothing. A false alarm. This had happened before. I’m just a little emotional sometimes. I gained a little weight. I’m not pregnant. I can’t be. I’ve taken of PTs before and they were all negative. Trying to negotiate a deal with the universe in my head to spare me, promising that I’ll be more careful next time. Even slipping in a little prayer in there.

But then the dreadful minute passed. And for the first time in my life… a second line appeared. My heart dropped.

I peed on the second test. No more imaginary deals with the universe. No more prayers. I watched that stick like a hawk. And before my eyes that second line appeared. Positive again. Fuck. It wasn’t enough for me. I had to hear it from a doctor. So then I went to a midnight pediatrics clinic to confirm it. I had to pee in a cup this time. A few minutes later, she confirmed it, and prescribed me with prenatal vitamins. I was pregnant.

A million things ran through my mind that night. My goals, my dreams, my plans, my youth… my beauty. I wasn’t ready to get bigger and rounder, and I knew that my body would never be the same again. I couldn’t see myself gaining so much weight everywhere. As Howl put it, I see no point in living if I can’t be beautiful.

Today, I am nine months pregnant and 30 pounds heavier. My body is rounder, wider, some parts darker. I gained weight everywhere. Yet there are days when I feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet. I can’t help but thank God, my angels, the Universe, for blessing me with this body that bears my child. This pregnancy reminded me of the beauty I always knew.

I disagree with the notion that outer beauty doesn’t matter and it is only the inside that counts. Our outer beauty is a reflection of our inner beauty. We see things as we are, and that shows in how we carry ourselves or treat other people or even take care of ourselves. Like a flower, like the sunset, like a cold rainy day, beauty has its many forms and it can never be narrowed down to a set of standards.

I know I look the worst when my heart and mind are in the wrong place. Insecurity and bitterness just has a way of showing in our actions and words. Like letting that random guy online get to my head. That wasn’t the first time I let someone else mess with my peace, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Although protecting my peace has been a priority for quite a while now. I can always do better. Moving forward I will be more conscious of my thoughts, because that’s where it all starts. I will do that by actively coming back to my principles and beliefs, some of the most beautiful parts of me. No one can ever make me feel less without my consent.

Especially being hours or days away from meeting my daughter. Those little eyes will look at me her whole life. Damn, I can’t wait to just stare in her eyes. I will be her main source of love, guidance, and light.

Oh my Amelia, everything is more meaningful because of you. Look at how you’ve changed my life already. My beautiful girl.

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I’ve had this lingering thought in my head for a while now. This is about a story I was told ten years ago. It’s only now that I’ve pieced it all together. I was probably so busy in my own little world that I didn’t give myself the time to truly think about why this specific story didn’t sit right with me.

Back in my early highschool days, I joined this religious group called Youth For Christ “YFC”. Honestly, I felt out of place. I wasn’t really into the fellowship of it all. I felt like my relationship with God was not as intense as my YFC mates. When worship and they close their eyes and I can feel their sincerity in their praise. I tried my best to get to that intense level but I guess you just can’t force that type of connection. Nevertheless, I learned and experienced a lot in those years. I would say this was the chapter in my life that introduced me to my personal advocacy, which was to help the children. Hmmm.. maybe it was God who introduced me to my calling. Wow.

Anyway, within YFC, I joined a subgroup called Reaching Out Christ to Kids, and of course it had an acronym too, “ROCK”. This group was for volunteers who wanted to serve the children. I remember even attending a camp to be part of ROCK. That event was actually really fun. Anyway, so YFC-ROCK would be the service team for programs prepared for the kids. These programs were simple monthly gatherings held in different churches in our area. The goal was to preach a little and keep it fun for the kids. We would prepare games, prayers, lectures and merienda for them.

Now to the story, there was this guy who was kind of like our senior. He was nice to us and he was really nice to the kids. He seemed really dedicated in what he did for the kids. This guy was pretty much our leader because he would be the one to delegate the tasks for each service team member. Then one day, us cool service team YFC-ROCK people were all hanging out, then this guy opened up to us about why he was so passionate in teaching kids about God.

He revealed to us to that he almost r* a little girl when he was younger. A little girl went into their (can’t remember if they owned it or not) computer shop. He was alone and he thought about r* her. He went as far as calling the little girl over, held her, but fought the temptation to push through with it, and let her go. He said it was God who stopped him that day.

I hate to weaponize his own words against him, but in retrospect, if he had atrocious thoughts about a child, and he so loosely used the r* word to describe what he wanted to do that little girl, was it safe for him to be around children all the time? Does that sexual perspective of a child completely go away through a spiritual awakening?

No one their right mind would have such vile thoughts about a child. People who do are pedophiles. He claimed back then that God helped him get out of the dark, and for his sake and the sake of all the kids he handled, I sincerely hope that was true. Otherwise, it was a terrible terrible situation. It was dangerous for children to be around a grown man who almost r* a little girl… and us who knew of this story, young and ignorant, blinded by our faith, were we enablers of temptation?

If I were to face this guy today, I would advise him to seek professional help, even if what happened years ago was “just a thought,” and ultimately resulted to him finding God. Strip away the religion from that story, all I see is pedophelia. I feel like that core thought should be addressed and this guy needs to be helped. It all starts in the head. That thought he had about that little girl could have progressed in different ways, and even if it wasn’t executed that time, I don’t think a spiritual awakening is enough to kill that type of thinking completely.

We all know that even the most religious people sin, sometimes they’re even worse than the rest of us.

It was dinner time and my dad asked me if I liked what we were having. I remember that I had just finished a workout and the table was already set and the food was almost ready.

I answered him, “wala bang gulay diyan?”, (I know, what a bitch right) and he asked me what type of vegetable dish I wanted and I replied, “kahit ano“. Then I was surprised because he went right out to a small talipapa outside our village to buy me vegetables himself. I’m not sure when exactly this happened, but I imagine around the time I was about to leave for the US, or around early ECQ. I think I might have traumatized my dad with my attitude back when we were in lockdown. I hate to think that I made him feel that I was getting tired of spending so much time together.

Back to that specific day – imagine, despite having food prepared already, he still went out and got me veggies just because I wanted some. As I said, I don’t exactly remember that specific day it happened but I believe tensions were high at home between him and myself (which explains, but doesn’t justify my snappy response) My dad and I always bumped heads. I honestly don’t know why that it. I tried to rationalize it in my head too, but maybe we are just different… He raised a strong girl who speaks her mind what can I say. LOL. Yet, despite having disagreements and arguments, I know my dad would do anything for me.

Just another side story about my dad, I remember during my last term in college, my dad bought me this diamond necklace to motivate me to finish school already. It worked. That term was my last term in college, and that diamond necklace is still in its original box. I keep it separately from all my other jewelries. It’s on my desk so it’s always close to me.

Apparently, they suspended my account for not following Community Guidelines. When I appealed for a review, they decided to disable my account permanently. WHAT THE F?!?!?! I only post about my pregnancy now, and I’ve been keeping it fairly PG on there!!!!!

I hate how much this is affecting me. I am devastated that I lost that specific account because I had that account since high school. It’s basically a documentation of my life. From high school, to college, to graduating, my first job, migrating to the states, getting pregnant, all my big life events, good times, bad times… and now it’s all gone… for no reason at all. As someone who migrated and lives a thousand miles from my family and friends – I’m furious.

I hate how much I shared my life over the years on this one account only for it to be taken away from me so abruptly. I hate instagram. I hate how much I put so much value onto that account, that it affects me so emotionally while my baby is in my tummy. I’m sorry if you’re feeling my sadness Amelia. Mommy will get it together.

As much as I want to deflect the thought of this “happening for a reason”, I can’t help but see the silver lining of this. But tonight I’m just going to sulk, and call bullshit on anyone who tries to comfort me.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better.. but tonight I feel like shit.

My precious pug, my dream dog, and my little angel on earth. Today, I found out that he has severe arthritis due to genetic hip dysplasia. I don’t think he knows though, because he’s really active and trying to run around and play with his brother Peanut.

Popoy is very special to me because I got him when I was 18. I was so depressed about migrating from the Philippines, that my mom got me my dream dog.

I’ll never forget that moment on October 15, 2016, my Mom and I were out in the parking lot of Petsmart, where a lady who I found on the internet had two little pugs in the back of her car. That’s when I first laid my eyes on him. I knew he was mine. My Popoy. And that was the start of our lives together.

I stayed here for a year until I had to go back home to finish my studies. I was in the Philippines for four more years. I only got to see him once, those years I lived away. Until I moved back here for good in 2021. It’s crazy that in all those years, he never forgot who I was. He always knew that I was his person. He welcomed me like no time passed. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a loyal pug like Popoy. He truly is my angel.

The vet told me this morning, that there was no healing his hip dysplasia, and that he would eventually need surgery. I know that no one lives forever, but I was always in denial of how fragile Popoy is. I honestly been noticing his aging but I couldn’t accept it.

I’ll honestly do anything to keep him safe and healthy. I would pay anything to take away the pain and for him to be 100% better. I honestly cannot imagine my life without Popoy.

I’m writing all of this down because it’s really hard on me to see him struggling. What hurts is it’s like he doesn’t even know that he’s injured because he’s still trying to walk, run, and jump like normal. It breaks my heart to see him fall whenever he tries to jump, because he always jumps on the couch or chair next to me.

He literally just follows me everywhere. He waits for me outside my bedroom door in the morning, he waits outside the bathroom door, and sometimes I find it annoying that he cries when I leave his sight, but now I just want him close to me all the time so I can keep an eye on my baby.

For the next two weeks he should just be resting. I’ll put him in a stroller as soon as we find one that fits his needs. Then I’ll be bringing him to the vet again to check his progress, and if he’s still limping by then we’ll be talking about the next steps.

As for now, I’ll be taking good care of him.