Some years ago, I told my mother that I will never have a child. I was still knee-deep in my conservation work and I strongly believed that bringing another person into this world will add more pressure to our deteriorating environment. My mother frowned and said, "Then you will never understand how it's like to be a mother."
I thought, "Do I have to?" Years later, I would change my mind. I had to understand. I desperately needed to.
A month after my husband Kevin and I got married, we bought a second hand hatchback. "It can carry so much more than a sedan," he said. Little did we know that within that week, we would pack up our bags and drive home to Albay to see my ailing mother. I knew that she had gastrointestinal issues, but this time, it was serious.
We drove for 16 hours. It could have been shorter but Google Maps redirected us to a "shortcut" through the mountains. We ended up getting stuck in the middle of an unpaved road. One of our tires sank into the mud and it took us an hour to pull the car out. By the time we reached Legazpi City, it was 10 PM. We were 3 kilometers short of our hotel when my Aunt called to tell me the bad news. My mother's cysts were malignant and have spread throughout her internal organs. My husband and I pulled over and, in the middle of nowhere, we broke down in tears.
It wasn't long before my Mom succumbed to breast cancer. She passed away on February 7, eight days after we found out that she was sick. I used the time in between to bargain with her (as if it were even her choice). I asked her to hold on. "There's still so much to look forward to," I said. She had yet to meet her grandchild, I joked. She stared at me and shoved me as if to say that I was talking nonsense. In hindsight, I was.
On April 7, exactly two months later, I found out that I was pregnant. This was after I spent some time in the hospital for an infection, which would be the first of many hospital visits in 2021. Two days after my birthday, I would go back to the hospital for the second time for an inflamed appendix. I had to go through an appendectomy while I was 24 weeks pregnant. The surgeon asked me if I had any questions.
"Will the baby be okay?" I asked.
That was my first lesson on motherhood. My child's life will be my priority, even more than mine.
Photo by Kevin VelascoI didn't bring my birth plan to the delivery room. I knew that there was no way I could control my circumstances in the same way that I had no control over my mother's mortality. I was working towards natural birth but, on my 39th week, I ended up with an induction and a C-section because my child was showing signs of tachycardia. She had abnormally fast heart rate at 200-210.
Thankfully, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. We named her Sol, the sun. I, on the other hand, was falling apart. I spent a week at home before I had to be rushed to the ER because I had a hard time breathing. My blood pressure was high and my feet started swelling. I thought it was pre-eclampsia. The ER doctors considered cardiomyopathy and wrote up an admission order, but I backed out and signed a waiver. I didn't want to stay in the hospital and be away from my week-old daughter.
My second lesson on motherhood: a woman will find her strength when she is at her weakest.
The author lost her mom Cecilia a month after she got married. 'Grief is like a gentle breeze. It's soft but profound, and it usually hits you when it's quiet. Miss you Mama.' (Right photo courtesy of Edan and Emz Photography)It turns out that my ER episode was an anxiety attack because of postpartum depression made worse by my breastfeeding struggles. I wasn't producing enough milk and my breasts were cracked and bleeding. My swollen feet was a normal complication of giving birth, especially with Cesarean deliveries like mine. But I would take it if it meant that I didn't have to worry about living with cardiomyopathy. I searched for the prognosis on Google and it wasn't very optimistic.
No, I wasn't out of the woods yet. Another week later, I was back in the hospital for ESBL, an enzyme found in hospital-acquired E. coli that can't be treated by oral medication. I was tied up to an IV for seven days and I would have another anxiety attack during my CT scan. Apparently, I am allergic to IV contrast. I felt like my ears were going to fall off and I was palpitating. I thought, "Really? After everything I've been through, a CT scan is going to kill me?"
During that last stay at the hospital, I was alone because my husband had to take care of our daughter. I could no longer avoid processing my emotions brought by my mother's death and the trauma I experienced when I delivered my baby. I thought about what she said. She wanted me to understand what it's like to be a mother. After all the pain and fear, I was tempted to think that she just wanted me to feel the same suffering that she went through so I would appreciate her more. But when I was reunited with my daughter after being away from her for what seemed like ages, I finally understood.
My third lesson on motherhood: with suffering comes profound joy.
I spent most of 2021 thinking about death, but when our ray of sunshine arrived, my life unfolded before my eyes. I realized that my mother wanted me to feel the same joy she had when she became a mother. She wanted me to witness my daughter's first smile, her first yawn, her first cry. She wanted me to understand how it's like to have a reason to live once I've let go of my ego. She wanted me to learn how to love someone while knowing that I would have to eventually see her off when she becomes a fully-fledged adult. She wanted me to feel the unconditional love she had for me. Perhaps she thought that maybe I would get to know her more. Maybe I would "see" her.
I realized that part of my decision to bear a child was my last attempt to extend my mother's life by understanding a part of her that I never did before. And now that I'm a mother, I feel like she never left. She had so much love to give that until now it overflows. And what do you do with all that love? You pass it on.
Cover photo by Kevin Velasco
