My Journey to Motherhood

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I have never been so angry as I am now. I’m enraged. We came back to this new playground today because they had so much fun the last time they were here, but today’s experience was completely different.

There’s this (Caucasian) kid who was being mean to the boys. Less than five minutes after going in, Lucas came back to me, tears falling down his face, unable to tell me what happened. This has never happened before. When he calmed down, he said a kid (about their age) had “fought” him—pulled his shirt because they wouldn’t let him climb into “their house,” a small area they claimed as theirs in the playground because they got there first.

I decided to go inside and watch them. Then it happened again—they wouldn’t let the boys go in “their house,” which was basically a small area with a trampoline. Lucas was going to come to me again, but I stood up and told him to go back. I went with them because Louis was scared and asked me to. I asked the bully and his buddy (some other kid) if the boys could play there. The buddy said yes; the bully said no. When I asked him why, he just looked at me, unable to say anything. I told them that everyone can play there, that it was for sharing. The buddy agreed, while the bully just kept quiet. And just like that, everyone dissipated, and the bully never claimed the house as theirs again.

Then I wondered if it was the right thing to intervene or if I should have just sat back and let them handle that. I wondered if I should’ve continued reading my book as I planned.

But as a parent, I decided that it was right to intervene with Lucas’ bully because it was physical. He touched my kid. And maybe today won’t be the day Lucas learns to stand up for himself, but it will be a day I can talk to them about the real world—how there will be people who don’t share, who pick on you or hit you for no other reason than because that’s how life is treating them. And sometimes, there won’t be consequences for them. It’s a hard lesson, but an important one.

Today is also the day they learn that Momom will always be their safe place, and as long as they need me, I am ready to fight for them.

Part of the reason I got so triggered is because I recently watched Adolescence, and I truly believe all parents should watch it, reflect on it, and start making changes. I haven’t had the time to fully process it until this seemingly “small” incident. It made me realize how early these behaviors start, how unchecked cruelty can shape a child’s understanding of power, and how vital it is for parents to be present—not just physically, but emotionally aware and engaged, especially since kids are growing up with social media. Maybe it's not enough to assume kids will “figure it out” on their own; they learn from what they see, what we allow, from what we ignore, and from what we actively correct. I just want my kids to grow up knowing they are loved, that their feelings matter, and that they are never alone in facing life’s challenges.

I can hear it already, some people will probably say, they’re just kids being kids, yes but there’s a line between playing and imposing power over someone else. There’s a difference between being rowdy and being intentionally cruel. Kids are just kids—but that’s exactly why they need guidance. It doesn’t seem right to let them think it’s okay to exclude, to push, to control others just because they can.

Today wasn’t just about a playground scuffle. It was about setting the foundation for how they see themselves in the world and how they respond to both kindness and cruelty.

Every time I write about parenting or my kids, a small part of me hesitates, knowing it might come across as too idealistic or self-righteous. But I don’t write to influence—I write to record my experiences. If it resonates with you, great. If it doesn’t, that’s okay too. Take what speaks to you, or simply read it as a glimpse into someone else’s journey. Something happened last week that prompted me to write about it on the spot.

————

I have never been so angry as I am now. I’m enraged. We came back to this new playground today because they had so much fun the last time they were here, but today’s experience was completely different.

There’s this (Caucasian) kid who was being mean to the boys. Less than five minutes after going in, Lucas came back to me, tears falling down his face, unable to tell me what happened. This has never happened before. When he calmed down, he said a kid (about their age) had “fought” him—pulled his shirt because they wouldn’t let him climb into “their house,” a small area they claimed as theirs in the playground because they got there first.

I decided to go inside and watch them just in case something happens again. Then it happened again—they wouldn’t let the boys go in “their house,” which was basically a small area with a trampoline. Lucas was going to come to me again, but I stood up and told him to go back. I went with them because Louis was scared and asked me to. I asked the bully and his buddy (some other kid) if the boys could play there. The buddy said yes; the bully said no. When I asked him why, he just looked at me, unable to say anything. I told them that everyone can play there, that it was a space for sharing. The buddy agreed, while the bully just kept quiet. I thanked the buddy for being nice. And just like that, everyone dissipated as if nothing happened, and there was never a mention of ‘the house’ again.

Then I wondered if it was the right thing to intervene or if I should have just sat back. I wondered if I should’ve continued reading my book as I planned.

But as a parent, I decided that I made the right decision to intervene with Lucas’ bully because it was physical. He touched my kid. And maybe today won’t be the day the boys learn to stand up for themselves, but it will be a day I can talk to them about the real world—how there will be people who don’t share, who pick on you or hit you for no other reason than because that’s how life is treating them. And sometimes, there won’t be consequences. It’s a hard lesson, but an important one. Today is the day they learn that Momom will always be their safe place, and as long as they need me, I am ready to fight for them.

Part of the reason I got so triggered is because I recently watched Adolescence, and I truly believe all parents with young children should watch it, reflect on it, and start making changes. I haven’t had the time to fully process it until this seemingly “small” incident. It made me realize how early these behaviors start, how unchecked cruelty can shape a child’s understanding of power, and how vital it is for parents to be present—not just physically, but emotionally aware and engaged, especially since kids now are growing up with social media — something we had but was totally harmless back then. Maybe it's not enough to assume kids will “figure it out” on their own; they learn from what they see, what we allow, from what we ignore, and from what we actively correct.

I can hear it already, some people will probably say, they’re just kids being kids, yes but there’s a line between playing and imposing power over someone else. There’s a difference between being rowdy and being intentionally cruel. Kids are just kids—but that’s exactly why they need guidance. It doesn’t seem okay to let them think it’s okay to exclude, to push, to control others just because they can. Because look at the movie that was actually inspired by real life events? It was inspired by teen boys stabbing teen girls to death. Is that not scary?

Today wasn’t just about a playground scuffle. It was about setting the foundation for how they see themselves in the world and how they respond to both kindness and cruelty.

Every time I write about parenting or my kids, a small part of me hesitates, knowing it might come across as too idealistic or self-righteous. But I don’t write to influence—I write to record my experiences. If it resonates with you, great. If it doesn’t, that’s okay too. Take what speaks to you, or simply read it as a glimpse into someone else’s journey. Something happened last week that prompted me to write about it on the spot, thus the beginning line.

————

I have never been so angry as I am now. I’m enraged. We came back to this new playground today because they had so much fun the last time they were here, but today’s experience was completely different.

There’s this (Caucasian) kid who was being mean to the boys. Less than five minutes after going in, Lucas came back to me, tears falling down his face, unable to tell me what happened. This has never happened before. When he calmed down, he said a kid (about their age) had “fought” him—pulled his shirt because they wouldn’t let him climb into “their house,” a small area they claimed as theirs in the playground because they got there first.

I decided to go inside and watch them just in case something happens again. Then it happened again—they wouldn’t let the boys go in “their house,” which was basically a small area with a trampoline. Lucas was going to come to me again, but I stood up and told him to go back. I went with them because Louis was scared and asked me to. I asked the bully and his buddy (some other kid) if the boys could play there. The buddy said yes; the bully said no. When I asked him why, he just looked at me, unable to say anything. I told them that everyone can play there, that it was a space for sharing. The buddy agreed, while the bully just kept quiet. I thanked the buddy for being nice. And just like that, everyone dissipated as if nothing happened, and there was never a mention of ‘the house’ again.

Then I wondered if it was the right thing to intervene or if I should have just sat back. I wondered if I should’ve continued reading my book as I planned.

But as a parent, I decided that I made the right decision to intervene with Lucas’ bully because it was physical. He touched my kid. And maybe today won’t be the day the boys learn to stand up for themselves, but it will be a day I can talk to them about the real world—how there will be people who don’t share, who pick on you or hit you for no other reason than because that’s how life is treating them. And sometimes, there won’t be consequences. It’s a hard lesson, but an important one. Today is the day they learn that Momom will always be their safe place, and as long as they need me, I am ready to fight for them.

————

Part of the reason I got so triggered is because I recently watched Adolescence, and I truly believe all parents with young children should watch it, reflect on it. I haven’t had the time to fully process it until this seemingly “small” incident. Because it confirmed it and made me realize how early these behaviors start, how unchecked cruelty can shape a child’s understanding of power, and how vital it is for parents to be present—not just physically, but emotionally aware and engaged, especially since kids now are growing up with social media — something we had but was totally harmless back then. Maybe it's not enough to assume kids will “figure it out” on their own; they learn from what they see, what we allow, from what we ignore, and from what we actively correct.

I can hear it already, some people will probably say, they’re just kids being kids, yes but there’s a line between playing and imposing power over someone else. There’s a difference between being rowdy and being intentionally cruel. Kids are just kids—but that’s exactly why they need guidance. It doesn’t seem okay to let them think it’s okay to exclude, to push, to control others just because they can. Because look at the movie that was actually inspired by real life events? It was inspired by teen boys stabbing teen girls to death. Is that not scary?

Today wasn’t just about a playground scuffle. It was about setting the foundation for how they see themselves in the world and how they respond to both kindness and cruelty.

I know it might sound self-righteous, but the truth is, this parenting thing didn’t come with a manual, and just like every other parent out there, I’m not perfect, and I don’t have all the answers. I’m no parenting expert—in fact, my boys throw tantrums, roll on the floor in public (as you can see in my posts sometimes haha), and test my patience like normal kids do. A friend once mentioned (out of good intention?) that one of my boys (the clumsier one) might develop self-doubt because I’m quick to correct them when they accidentally hurt others. I understand that kids can get rough while playing, and I’ve no problem with accidents like that but I wouldn’t want them to brush it off like it’s no big deal. Intentional or not, someone still got hurt—and I want to teach them that accountability and mindfulness matter. I don’t want them growing up thinking that if it wasn’t on purpose, it doesn’t count. That kind of thinking can become a free pass to hurt others, and that’s not something I wanna risk, and it’s not something I’m okay with.

I don’t judge how others raise their kids because we’re all doing our best. Parenting is tough, and I hope others can extend the same understanding. This is simply what matters to me more and what I wish to focus on. That doesn’t mean my kids will be perfect. They might be far from it, depending on what metrics you use. They’ll make mistakes for sure, be selfish, and have moments of weakness like anyone else. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me, but at the end of the day, I just want to raise good, strong, kind kids who know they are loved that they know all feelings are valid, but not all behaviors are.

Right now, my small victories are when they don’t forget to say “please,” “thank you,” and “I’m sorry”. When they hand something over properly. And their cute little awards from school—“Enthusiastic Friend” and “Kind Heart”—tell me that I may have worries sometimes, but moments like these remind me that maybe, just maybe, it’s working.

It dawned on me today—Are you stuck if you do not want 'more' at this point? Because we’re not interested in the ‘what’s next’—at least for now?

We spend our whole lives answering that question. What’s next? Life feels like a relentless series of events, each milestone an answer to that question society has drilled into us like some cosmic to-do list. But what if what I have now is enough? What if I just want to focus on what matters to me right now? Every time we hit a milestone, we’re almost immediately pushed to ask again: What’s next? Can’t we just sit with it and enjoy it for a minute?

From the moment we’re born, we’re strapped onto this conveyor belt of life. A baby (expected to hit all milestones) will grow up, go to school (hopefully get good grades), graduate, get a job, find a partner, get married, have kids (and pressured to have more if there's only one), have grandkids, retire peacefully—and even then, you’re expected to “stay active,” pick up hobbies, and fill your days. Nothing wrong with that, but still. There’s always that pressure to keep moving, keep achieving, because the idea of being comfortable and content seems… suspicious. Does that mean you’ve stopped growing? Stopped dreaming? And so what if you have? What’s so wrong with not being obsessed with the future for once?

When I was younger, I questioned this all the time. Whenever I come across old journal entries, I cringe—I was writing about the same things over and over, just this ungrateful kid, angry at the world. Honestly, I think that’s part of why I was so unhappy. I measured my life against society’s timeline—certain ages meant certain milestones. That sh*t certainly doesn’t stop with childhood development; it follows you into adulthood. And if you were off track? Well, good luck explaining that to anyone nosy enough to ask!

After years of feeling stuck, hating everything, and drifting without purpose, I came across two books that had a huge impact on me. That’s when I learned the most important way I want to live: live in the present. Now, I focus on what’s happening around me, not what everyone else is doing. I’m happy for other people’s successes, but I’ve learned to focus on my own path. We’re not all running the same race.

I’ve never been the kind of person who knows where they’ll be in five or ten years. Some people are wired for strategic five-year plans with color-coded spreadsheets—I admire them but I’m not one of them and that is okay. That doesn’t make me lazy or lost. It’s the balance between striving and savoring that keeps the world grounded. I’m not aiming to make a global impact. My goal is to make an impact on the people around me—and maybe a stray dog or two. Speaking of dogs, I used to feel so helpless about not being able to do much for them. I’m not a big organization with resources and funding. But I’ve learned that small acts matter just as much. If I can feed one stray dog or cat or give them a drink of water, that’s enough. If I’ve done what I can in that moment, that’s enough. Not every victory needs to be headline-worthy. I just do more whenever I can.

Maybe this shift in thinking comes from losing friends and classmates too young, from the devastating loss of my dad. It made it easier to walk the talk—unlike when I was younger, trying to live by that mantra but not fully able to practice it.. That truth hit hard. It taught me to heighten my awareness, love in the moment and find gratitude in even the smallest things. And a heart full of gratitude leaves no room for complaints (or at least keeps them to a minimum). Now, I protect my mental health at all costs because I never want to go back to that dark place where I constantly questioned my worth. When I catch myself complaining, I allow it—but I always end by finding the positive side. I’m now quick to spot toxicity, and I don’t let it hang around for long.

I may sound righteous but I’ll admit it’s not as easy as I make it sound, especially with so much negativity these days. Choosing to live like this requires a conscious decision. I definitely still have my bad days, but I'll never take it out on anyone. So if you ask me what’s next? I’ll proudly say: Right now. Because I’m living at my own pace, focusing on people who matter to me, working hard, raising my kids and showing up for them, grateful I have that option.

P.S.

(Writing from memory)

I barely slept the night before.  Not like I could if I wanted to anyway since more nurses were coming in for more tests and preparation for my operation at 7am.  I remember I have never been more excited.  I must be the only patient who’s more excited than scared to undergo the CS operation. Little did I know I was literally putting one foot in my grave. Dr. Manalo arrived on time (one thing she always is, I noticed). 

Everything happened so quickly. When I got wheeled into the Operating Room, there were already a bunch of people. I was getting nervous at this point. First,  a nurse shaved off where the incision site would be. Then the anesthesiologist was going to inject into my spine, they made me curl into a ball, and being so pregnant it was just so difficult. I struggled then I felt the needle go in (ouch), I felt the pain as she pushed it in. I remember shivering (not sure if it was the metal bed or if it was the anesthesia).  The anesthesiologist pinched me and asked if I felt it, after awhile she pinched me again and announced to the team that I was good to go. I heard her tell Dr. Manalo that she may go ahead and begin.  From that point on, I couldn’t feel anything. Just like what I read, I could only feel the tugging.  I kept looking around during the operation because I was falling asleep. I saw the two isolettes with labels A & B, each baby would have a team of nurses upon pull out since they were premature and needed to be taken to NICU immediately after birth. No dramatic skin to skin moments.  I saw a glimpse, but only heard their cries.

June 24, 2020

(Writing from my memory)

June 23, 2020

I was being closely monitored by my doctor so we went back for my check up again this day.  The contractions were stronger and more frequent, I could also feel it.  This time our check up was at St. Luke’s and I got sent to their HRPU (High Risk Pregnancy Unit) for monitoring (again).  My room for monitoring was a lot better than at Asian Hospital because it was a big room, had its own bathroom (though it’s useless because I was on bed rest), had its own TV (useless as well as I was not in the mood due to the pain). But at least it wasn’t that depressing and lonely, because just outside the sliding door was the nurse’s station, so I could see people, hear them talk. Actually at Asian I can also hear the nurses laugh but I was confined to the bed with plastic divider.

June 20, 2020

I got discharged.  I was happy to go home, albeit with bruised arms and hands. I was diagnosed with Gestational Thrombocytopenia. Thrombocytopenia is defined as the drop in platelet count from the normal range of 150,000 –400,000 / μL to a count lower than 150,000 / μL.  My lowest was 90,000, and one can’t undergo surgery with that platelet count.

June  16, 2020

Went for our check up again, and got sent to Genesis Center again. I hated being sent there, but at the same time I was scared to refuse it because I was having contractions. This was the time I truly felt even more depressed, but it was better in the sense that Johnnie and I were prepared to be separated this time, it wasn’t like somebody had snatched us away from each other like the first time.  My time at the monitoring room was depressing, it’s redundant but I don’t know what other word to use. I felt lonely, helpless, in pain (due to the contractions).  I was strapped to the bed, hooked to machines, and was put on full bed rest. Nurses went in only to administer medications, change IV line, give me food, clean me up after I pee. Different doctors went in to ask about my history, something which I would later have to repeat a thousand times.   

May 25, 2020

This day was our check up again with Dr. Manalo at Asian Hospital, she said I was having contractions and sent me to Genesis Birthing Center to be monitored. I was hooked to machines for tocolysis.  This was the day I first got admitted in my life, I’ve never had IV line and this was the first time I experienced it. 

It was depressing because this was the first time Johnnie and I got separated without warning. I was immediately brought to the isolation ward, and got swabbed for Covid, had chest X-ray.  When I got transferred to the Genesis Center, no companion was allowed due to the Covid thing, so I was all alone in the room. Johnnie also had to stay in the Covid building all alone, because she was also considered PUI.  We cried while on the phone that night because we weren’t prepared to be separated and it was just so depressing to be alone, it was difficult for both of us. 

So I’ve been reading about other pregnant women’s fears during this pandemic and it’s very real. Every mom-to-be is more anxious and scared instead of being filled with excitement during this time.  I can already feel the anxiety about so many things as early as now, and there are so many things I want to ask my OB but feel embarrassed to. I know I shouldn’t, but we haven’t really established a good or deep patient-doctor relationship as I’m practically still a stranger to her so I feel embarrassed disturbing her with every little thing when she probably has more important things to worry about during this time? It doesn’t help that it’s my first pregnancy so a lot of the changes in my body are new to me. Though she is always responsive and nice, I still hold back sometimes.

Being pregnant is a scary thing itself, there’s a lot of anxiety and worry that comes along with it. Even more so with this Corona virus going around.  A few months ago, we had plans in place on how to go about this. Yet everything flipped 2 weeks ago when the country started being plagued with the virus. It really shows that we can plan all we want but ultimately, God is in charge.  So we adjusted and fast forward to today, we are under ‘enhanced community quarantine’.

Yesterday was the 20th week into my pregnancy, and now it feels like I have all the time in the world for an update (something I have been putting off for too long). I need to do it so I have something to look back to before I forget the details of my pregnancy.

The first trimester:

I honestly didn’t feel any of the symptoms like nausea and morning sickness at the beginning, which made me feel like I was probably one of the lucky ones who didn’t experience those symptoms. I had regular migraines though which got really bad on some days.  But to my surprise, it was towards the end of the first trimester when I started throwing up certain food (anything oily was disgusting to me), felt the morning sickness. I didn’t have any particular food craving, except for the crunchy green mangoes from Mactan. But I only requested for those on Sundays (less traffic -because poor Johnnie was the one always driving).  My check ups during this time were always good, the babies were within normal sizes each time and there were no complications. Caffeine was restricted because it might interfere with the blood flow to the babies, and I was put on low sugar diet and thank God I’m not really into sweets so this wasn’t a torture. I do like fruit juices but I tried to keep everything natural as much as possible.  I still had those bottled juices once in a while.

The second trimester:

I’m still on my second trimester as I write, but as I entered my second trimester, that was when I got really stressed physically and emotionally due to having to move in to a new place and we had to do a lot of shopping (thus, walking), and it doesn’t help that Manila is such a large city that even malls were large-scale compared to Cebu. On top of it all, I also got scared of the Manila traffic so I wasn’t as hydrated as I should have been. Because hello, bathroom trips triple during this time. So my first check up with my new OB in Manila, Dr. Eileen Manalo, was when I was 18 weeks pregnant (just after that very stressful week of buying all the stuff).  To our surprise, she ordered a lot of tests (mostly for infectious diseases to be safe, I guess) and she ordered the 75g OGTT (Oral Glucose Tolerance Test) since diabetes runs in the family and multiple pregnancies are more prone to gestational diabetes. She also did a physical examination, and checked the cervical length, as well. This was the part where the bad news came in, she saw that my cervix was short  (which is too soon) so she said she doesn’t want me moving, she put me on bed rest, progesterone therapy and a medicine that prevents uterine contractions. She said she didn’t want to but if she has to, she would have to perform a Cervical Cerclage or cervical stitch  in which the cervix is stitched close in order to prevent a miscarriage or premature birth.  Did too much walking cause this? Yes, probably.  We’re really praying we wouldn’t have to undergo the procedure, but of course if the doctor says it’s the best decision for us I will do it, for the babies.  It was during this time when  I actually felt them move inside my tummy, it’s true what they say, it feels like fluttering. It’s amazing, and Johnnie is crazy about them.  Due to the virus, my doctor is only seeing a few patients once or twice a week, and she has asked to see me this week. I think mine is considered a high risk pregnancy, because I’m having twins plus the short cervix issue.