January 5, 2016

To my dearest Solana,

It's a brand new year and my heart is filled to the brim with joy and hope and love.  I am looking forward to building many wonderful memories with you and papa this year.  We have so much planned already.  Sports, trips, school, ugh so fun.

The last year was pretty eventful too.  Too many awesome adventures with you, too many milestones, too many (just to reference a popular 2015 slang) FEELS!!!

You are pretty much your own person now.  You seem to think that you have the freedom to make choices now and, just because we think you're super cute, papa and i allow you to think so.

You decide what to eat.
The range of your menu is quite limited.  At home, its a choice between adobo and spaghetti.  Eating out means either ramen or soup and bread.  You love sweets (chocolate and ice cream) and we, i hate to admit it, tolerate that more than we probably should.  You really like chips too but we seem to have drawn a harder line on that so sorry.  You refuse to eat fruits.  Your disdain for it seems to be greater than your love for sweets because you once turned down a slice of banoffee pie when you saw the bananas inside it. Someday, you will have the guts to try banoffee pie and you will love it.

You decide what to wear.
Oh my God what a pain you've become when choosing your OOTD.  You refuse to wear anything that might be construed as sexy which means no sleeveless, no sandos, no dresses.  You only wear shirts and pants and costumes.  You have a new pair of boots which you personally picked out because you say it looks like a horse.

You also like to dress more like your father.  You get excited when you wear the same thing like running shoes or a shirt with a pocket.  And because of this I have decided to take better care of myself this year so that you will want naman to dress more like me, a lady.

You decide what other people are to you.
You have started calling Natalie, your friend from down the street, your sister and Mickey J your brother.  One day on the way to wowa's house you said so to me "Mama, Mickey J is my brother."  I said "No he's not, he's your cousin."  and you quickly answered "Just let me call him my brother, mama."  HAHAHAHA

You are turning out to be a great, wonderful little girl and I can't wait to get to know you more this year.

Here is a photo of your beautiful face.  I hope that we will always find time to be silly together.

I love you.

Always,
Mama

August 3, 2014

To my dearest Solana,

It’s not so much that I love being a mom.  I am not one of those women who are hard wired for motherhood.  I am not, as you will find out soon enough, nurturing or caring or whatever virtue is deemed ideal for mothers.  I’ve always wanted children, true, but never in that aching, pining, or even determined way that some women do. 

When things started getting serious with your pop, I was actually prepared for a lifetime of just the two of us.  Your father was not a fan of having children at all, and over the most nonsense reasons.  You can ask him about that one day.  And I was sorta okay with that.  Maybe we’ll just travel, I thought.  Or have 22 dogs or very time consuming hobbies.

But now we have you and the world is just better in all ways possible.

We wake up to Christmas morning every day since you, to your wide excited eyes and your beautiful smile. We are constantly surrounded by magic when you’re around, nothing is ever just just, everything is always WOW.  We went to a children’s party a month ago and as soon as the puppet show started, you were the only one  on your feet, dancing, swirling, ecstatic in your bubble of joy.   And that’s how you are, puppet show or not, you do not just sit, you dance. 

I hope, with every bit of me, that you will never lose it, the awe, the magic that you seem to see in everything.  Or, at least, that you will never forget that you are capable of this when your heart breaks, which it eventually will. 

Can I also just say that, and this may sound cruel, I love it when you’re angry.  You are the most madrama, manipulative little girl ever. EVAH.  Sometimes I bite my lip when I watch you fake-cry and beg to get what you want so I don’t start laughing. “Mama pi, attide.  I want attide,” you tell me when you want to go outside.  The moment I say no, you throw yourself to the floor and “sob”.  When I finally say yes, you stop immediately, get up and smile.  Or at times when I refuse, which I also do by the way, and when you realize that I wont give in, you just stand right back up and look for something else to do. 

You are also the sweetest child on earth.  Sometimes I catch you staring at me, so I stare back, and then you break into a smile, hold my face with your teeny tiny hands and kiss me. 

Grabe. 

Hindi. Ko. Kaya. Ang. Joy.

So there is truth to this mother-child shit after all.  I really thought it was just hype.  But maybe, just maybe,  it’s you.  Because you, miss, are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.   So it’s really not so much that I love being a mom.   But I love being your mom.  You make the difference.

Love, 
Mama

May 18, 2014

To my dearest Solana,

Today is one of the hardest days I’ve had as a mother.  It could also probably be the proudest I’ve been.  We just got home from a party where there were more kids than you are used to.  So far, you see,  you’ve been living in an adult dominated world where you’ve been, well, dominating.  I suppose that was why you were over the moon when you were brought to a room full of children.

But children will be children and most are not as friendly and welcoming as you. So i sat in that room full of kids who grew up together and witness how kids who grew up together unintentionally treat the kid they didn’t grow up with.  

Several times I tried to carry you out of the room but just as many times you pushed me away because you wanted to stay and try to play.

Anak, I think I’m too sensitive for parenthood.  I’m super OA na talaga I know but if I could just shield you and spare you from every kind of hurt or rejection, no matter how small, I would.  Like I said, OA. 

At some point during the night, when we were heading back to the room from the kitchen,  a cute little girl shouted “NO!” as she shut the door when she saw you coming.  I guess they’ve had enough of you switching the lights off, I don’t know.  So when the door closed in your face, I said “okay, lets just go to papa” because, to be honest, that’s what I really wanted to do.  But as we were walking away, I suddenly realized how that moment could easily define you so I stopped and asked you if you wanted to go inside the room.  When you said “uh uh”, I opened the door, walked with you to the center of the room and told you to go and play.

At the end of the night, I was watching you play with three other kids.  God bless your relentless spirit.

You know Sage, 45% of the time with this whole parenting thing, my head has been stuck in a quicksand of fear and paranoia.  Another 45% is spent with my eyes closed in prayer asking God to please help me conquer my fear and paranoia.  But there is that 10% when my eyes are wide open and I am lucid and hopeful and brave.  Please let that 10% be enough to not fuck you up. 

Thank you for being cooler than mama.  Thank you for already being tougher than I could ever be.  And more importantly, thank you for inspiring me to do the right thing.

I love you.

Mama    

April 21, 2014

To my dearest Solana,

Last night, we attended the 50^th wedding anniversary of tita norma and tito nionio (lola and lolo to you).  It was quite a drive to add to an already long and exhausting drive to Fairview but it was a celebration I did not want to miss.  Golden anniversaries are hard to come by these days.  Either people give up or their bodies do and marriages end long before they reach this milestone. 

You were tired and sleepy and you would not leave the dance floor.  With droopy eyes, you rested on your papa’s or tito bobby’s arms as they swayed you around.  You particularly enjoyed watching the band, fascinated with how their instruments work.  When you were on your feet, you would do your own adorable dance moves that remind me a little of how indigenous tribes dance in the cordilleras.  You are, of course, so much cuter. 

And this is how you are at this age.  Barely 18 months old and already the life of any party you’ve been to.  You fight off sleep with every bit of your strength to enjoy the party, to keep on dancing.  I love love LOOOOVE how you are so enjoying your childhood. 

There’s this country song that I love that I will sing to you as you grow older. It’s corny, sure, but corny is sometimes how life is enjoyed best.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance 

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances, but they're worth taking
Loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making

Don't let some Hellbent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out, reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance     

I love you.

Mama

October 29, 2013

To my dearest Solana,

Let me tell you about the day you were born. 

It was a Monday, 9:21, exactly a year ago.  It was a day earlier than planned.  I was asked, you see, by Dr. Manahan to choose a delivery date when it became clear that I was going to have a C section.  At first I didn’t want to choose, I said I wanted to wait to go into labor to make sure that you were ready to come out.  He said with his usual charming sarcasm “Don’t be a martyr na. It will really be easier for everybody if you just choose.”  So, wanting to make sure that I arm you with whatever is necessary to help you succeed in life, I quickly consulted google on ‘lucky dates to give birth in 2012, fengshui.’  October 30’s luck was off the charts. 

You probably didn’t think you needed to be that lucky because you chose to come out on a still very lucky day, October 29. 

I woke up at 4 to pee.  I panicked at the sight of blood on the tissue and immediately woke up papa and called Dr. Manahan.  We were told to go the delivery room of St. Lukes.  We did. 

When we got there, the nurses strapped a thing on my stomach that could monitor you.  Your heart rate would drop at regular intervals.  Not good.  A little blood was still coming out of me.  Not good.  At around 6:30, Dr. Manahan decided to deliver you that day at 9am.

Despite the weirdness, confident that everything was okay, your papa and I started getting very VERY excited.

We started calling family, friends, officemates to tell them that it was all about to happen.  I had a stupid smile on my face I couldn’t get rid of.    

A little before 9 am, I was wheeled into the delivery room.  They were just going to call Papa when it was time for your grand entrance na.  Or is it exit? 

I was given a GA, was shaved, and cut open.  I heard Dr. Manahan say what a big myoma I had.  It was the first thing he saw. By the way, they say that only 30% of women who have myomas are able to conceive.  Arnt you amazing?

Papa finally came in with his ipod and speakers  waiting for the doctors go signal to play your song when you were about to come out.  The Beatles’ Here Comes the Sun was the first song you ever heard anak.  You’re welcome.

After a few seconds, the doctor said two words that all mothers are scared to hear  – cord and coil.  I closed my eyes and held my breath. “Your baby had a cord coil but she’s okay now, “ Doc said.  Maybe that’s why her heart rate was dropping. I think I heard him explain. 

“And her eyes are open,” he said amused as he pointed it out to the rest of his team.  And that’s how I remember seeing you for the first time, slimy and wailing with your eyes open.  They put you on top of my chest and I said “Hi baby” and I thanked God for you.

I started talking.  To everyone.   A lot.  Apparently a no no.  But I had a lot to say that evidently could not wait.

At the recovery room, I sang to you what I decided was going to be my song for you, Eraserhead’s with a smile.  Over and over I sang.  Eager to build the bond right off the gate. 

Whether or not my non-stop talking and singing inadvertently caused the medical disaster that was waiting for me after your birth is still up for debate.  I’m not sure it did.  But yes, if I had to do it all over again, maybe I would have just shut up and enjoy the quiet of those first few hours with you in my arms.  I’ll have the rest of our lives to sing to you anyway, whether you like it or not.

I don’t know how much of what happened in the next few weeks affected you.  The chaos in the room when mama had chills when the fever shot up, the inability of mama to breastfeed you, the need to drink from a cup at 3 days old, the inability of mama to hold you, the week that you had to be away from papa and mama because mama had to recover, the fragile emotional state of mama that sometimes made her so sad those first couple of months.  I hope, with every fiber of my being, that none of those things left a lasting mark on you. 

Instead I pray that what you got from that whole thing was how lucky you are.  Lucky that you had Abuela and ninang Guada who took such good care of you those days that papa and mama couldn’t, lucky that you had ninang Claude’s milk to nourish you when you were hungry, lucky to have had a steady stream of visitors  who showered you with hugs and kisses when you were deprived of your parent’s hugs and kisses. 

I will never forget what Dr. Manahan told us when we went to visit him a month after “Cherish each other,” he said.  “After all the both of you had gone through, you are both lucky to be here.  Cherish each other.”

I love you. 

Always,

Mama

September 6, 2013

Dear Sage,

You have teeth now.  5 to be exact.  Still, however, clueless about what good they can do.  Chewing is  clearly a concept you have yet to understand.  When we feed you oatmeal, which is as brave as we get to feeding you something that is not strained to death, the oats just hang around the sides of your mouth which really should make you gross but really just makes you adorable.

You expect an applause now every time you are able to do things.  Every time  we are able to align our index fingers, every time  you are able to switch the light on or off (with the help of papa of course), and every time you take in a spoonful of food, you look at me proudly and wait for my applause.  And when it comes, you squeal and join in, always looking like you’re about to burst in ecstasy. 

So far you are quite a happy kid, easy to warm up.  When you see new faces, you are quiet for about 30 minutes, assessing, I’d like to think, their auras.  Then when you’re ready, we hear you, we see you, we feel you.  You are quite the experience.  As tita Riya said “Walang sinabi si Maring sayo.”

But on the other side of the oh so happy disposition is a temper not shy at all to show itself.  That, you get from your dad.  Or my dad.  Basta not from me.  You’re a little impatient too when you don’t get your way.  It’s cute now and papa and I laugh every time you  throw a fit.  But let’s work on that when it stops being cute.  Not for us, for you.  I know a lot of patient people and I know a lot of impatient people and the patient ones seem more zen and chill and happy.  

I love you.

Mama

May 13, 2013

My dearest Solana,

When you were still a resident in my belly, I dreamt of the day when I would be able to go around with you outside me and introduce you to everyone as my creation.  I already saw myself pointing to you and announcing “See that! I made that!”  Your father and I would carefully and thoroughly discuss all the things that we wanted to teach you and all the ways that we wanted to raise you so that you would become a person of substance and a woman of grace. 

But as I start to get to know you, I realize more and more that you are not mine to own or mould.  Already you are showing signs of a personality I didn’t think someone who only came into this world 6 months ago could have.  And while I recognize bits and pieces of myself and your papa in you, you are already mostly you, which is now the only thing I will ever want you to be. 

If I ever forget in the future, as I most likely will, remind me please, and again and again if necessary, that you are not mine to own or mould.  If you want to experiment on an outfit or a hairstyle that I think is hideous, if you choose to believe in an ideology that makes no sense to me, if you should ever fall in love with a boy who is way beneath your league, or if, God forbid, you start rooting for the Lakers, look me in the eye and tell me gently please “Mama, I know you love me and you want only the best for me but I am not yours to own and mould.”

I, on the other hand, am yours anak.   Absolutely and forever.  How's that for irony?

Your papa and I realized the first time we held you in our arms that nothing in our lives would ever come first again. It is unbelievable how quickly and how willingly we became a cliche.  So yes, I will be THAT kind of mom.  The kind of mom who wont sit still until you are home safe and tucked in your bed at night. The kind who will desperately try to fit in your life even if it means listening to annoyingly loud teenage music.  And of course, the kind who will cry the ugly cry at birthday parties and graduations and probably practically every little thing that makes her realize that you are growing up.

I will be that kind of mom. That is a fact.  Please learn to deal with it as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary drama that you might be drawn to in your tweens.  

Yesterday was my first ever mother’s day.  You did not know that of course and you were too into your hands to realize how much that day meant to me.  You were not able to greet me, at least not in a language I understood.  Nor did you buy me any gifts.  But when I woke up that morning, I found you already awake, quietly observing the ceiling.  When you heard me stir, you looked at me and gave me the warmest and sincerest smile I’ve ever seen on anyones face. 

That was enough.  That will always be enough. 

Thank you.

Love, 

Mama