When and How I Met Him Part 1

Here I am chilling out here inside my bedroom while listening to my all-time favorite love songs. I have stumbled upon “When I Met You”, an APO Hiking Society classic, which was revived several times. I am amazed with Sarah Geronimo’s version. Her sweet voice touched my soul. I remembered how I met my then-boyfriend and now husband, how our love story started. Some call it love at first sight. In reality, it was not. We call it destiny. It was a love story that was five to ten years in the making. Only God knows the exact waiting period of our hearts. What matters most was when we committed ourselves to each other on that fateful day, we never let go ever since.
My husband fondly remembers how he, as a high school student, was introduced to me, who was still an elementary grader, by my uncle and his friend. They dropped by the house to borrow my dad’s motorcycle helmets. However, I don’t remember this particular incident anymore. I did not have a diary back then so life was undocumented. I was probably in Grade six if I am not mistaken. He said he was intrigued by my unique name, and welcomed the idea of having a girlfriend like me, who was not from the same town where he lived.
My first vivid memory of us meeting each other was when I was fifteen, and he was seventeen. It was the annual fiesta in my grandparents’ place. My family was there with the rest of the clan. He was there as one of the guests of my uncles, my mom’s first cousins. He was also a friend of my cousin. We interacted on the same circle so we had the chance to be introduced to each other. We played badminton and watched a basketball game on television. Even if we have talked for a few hours only, I sensed that I have known him more. We share the same birthday month – October, so we connected. I developed a crush for him because he seemed naturally sweet and very funny. Of course, I confided this secret to my cousin, who did not approve of this feeling. She said he had this reputation as a playboy, and even if he expressed that he was interested in me, I should not fall prey to his charms. I tried to suppress my feeling, and carried it for a year or two. Nevertheless, I have remembered him several times and secretly wished to see him again. We had chance encounters, only acknowledging each other’s presence, but they were uneventful. I heard he already had girlfriends so I played it cool and acted as if it did not really matter at all. Honestly, for some funny reason, I resented the bad news secretly. I realized I still had that crush for him after all those years.

Missing Me

My life seemed uni-dimensional ever since my husband left for work abroad. I just became a mother to my Little Gavin. My universe revolved around him, taking care of him, and addressing his needs. This is not to complain about motherhood. In fact, I am enjoying it very much. I just sensed some things were amiss ever since May 2009.

It has been four long months that I considered myself a single mom, because nothing can really replace the physical presence of my dear husband. I became a part-time daughter because even if I get to see my parents on a daily basis, we have had less meaningful tasks. They have their careers and their own concerns. I became a part-time sister, because all my siblings are either busy in school or busy at work or busy with their own worlds. I became a non-existent friend. I used to spend a lot of time with my old pals from elementary and high school. Then, time became less and less scarce as years passed by. When I went to college, had three jobs and got married, I saw them less and less frequently.

Even if I have social networking accounts where I can be kept abreast with what’s happening with my significant others, I still miss them. Again, nothing can replace person-to-person communication. I miss the loving kisses, warm hugs and sweet moments with my husband. I miss the easy banter and meaningful talks with my whole family over breakfasts, lunches and dinners. I miss chit-chatting, watching movies, social drinking and bar-hopping with my friends. Life without these and without them is empty. I don’t have my precious time with them, not by choice, but by circumstance. I miss my old life. I miss the old me. When can I get out of this rut?

Bitter and Sweet

One concrete example, not of an OFW but of a sacrificial mom, is my dear friend. She recently arrived from Los Angeles last August. It was no ordinary vacation. She has to be here for two months to let her newborn baby adjust to the new environment. She has to leave him in her mother-in-law’s care for two long years. Even it was so hard for her to do that, as she was a stay-at-home and hands-on mom for almost four years, she made the choice to study practical nursing in California. Being married to a US citizen Filipino man in his fifties, she knows that when her husband will retire ten or fifteen years from now, she will be the breadwinner. She has to invest for their family’s financial future by studying now. She has to sacrifice her time for her baby now so that both her children won’t sacrifice in the future. She left last night, and knowing her, she may have very strong on the outside by not crying in front of her mother-in-law, but her heart was bleeding. She did not even allow her child to be taken to the airport. She said he might sleep and it was already too late. She was saying that to spare her from further pain. I will miss my friend and she said she would me. However, I know in my mommy heart, she would miss her baby even more.

My Separation Anxiety

In a mother’s lifetime, she has to endure many sacrifices for the sake of her child. It is one of her many ways of expressing her unconditional love for them. One of the most painful sacrifices a mother has to undertake is to be physically separated from her child. There are many reasons why a mother has to leave her child but no matter what the reason is, her most ultimate reason is she loves her child so much. Leaving is for the child’s sake, securing the child’s future.

There are many Filipina mommies who assume the role of being breadwinners in their families. They become nurses, domestic helpers, entertainers outside the country. They become OFWs. The National Statistics Office highlighted that almost 49% of Overseas Filipino Workers are women.

One of the biggest sacrifices I have to undertake as a mom is the sacrifice of leaving my son even for two weeks because of chickenpox. I can’t let him catch the virus, even if he got the vaccine. I love him so much to let him suffer as a toddler. Aside from the rash, blisters, scabs, scars, itch and fever, there are possible complications such as pneumonia and encephalitis. Even if I was just on the other room, and he was on our room with his babysitter, it was bittersweet for me to listen to his cries of sadness. I know he missed me so much. His nanny kept on narrating his daily accounts of coping with the fact that I was not there beside him. He would say, “Mommy, mommy” whenever he sees anything that was mine, especially my clothes inside the cabinet. He would kiss our family picture and would say, “Mommy, daddy, me”. He would plainly look for me and say again, “Mommy.” Sometimes, he would wake up in the middle of the night sobbing. At his young age of two, it was so painful to know that he has separation anxiety. It was even more painful that I have to cope with my own separation anxiety. Writing in this blog was one my ways to keep myself sane. It gives me a sense of letting go, even for a while.

Eye Opener

Reading Bo Sanchez's weekly blog, "Practical Soulfood for Successful People" was a real eye opener for me. Since I am plagued with sickness right now, I chose to read the entry "Do You Want God to Heal You?". Yes, I wanted God to heal me. Even if chickenpox is viral in nature, I know God wanted the varicella virus to infect me so that I will open my eyes to what he wants me to see. I may have acted blind before, but I should not be anymore. I was spiritually sick and my only medicine is God's loving healing.

He wants me to locate the wound. He wants me to cleanse the wound. He wants me strengthen my body.. Because of these reasons... He wants me to be closer to Him. He wants me to pray more. He wants me to trust Him more. He wants me to live according to His Will. He wants me to love Him more.

From now on, every time I sense a physical symptom of a spiritual sickness, I should say this little prayer, " I feel totally, completely, perfectly loved by God." Of course, I should not forget how I was touched by the story of Gemma Pasimio, the cancer survivor. She lost everything, but she gained something more valuable --- inner peace and God's love. Her final testimony said: "With God at my side, I live one day at a time. Everyday is such a beautiful gift from Him. And I enjoy each day so much. I’m happy and at peace. God is my healer and I give my life to Him."

Scabs and Scars

Chicken pox is usually much milder in children, for whom hospitalization is usually not required, than it is in adults. This I researched from Microsoft Encarta. I so agree with this statement. Compared to my sister’s rash, blisters and scars, I can see that I have more of them. They are even concentrated all over my face. Talk about high visibility. I am admit that I got used to seeing my “altered and mutated” image on the mirror just today, the 4th day of this journey. Last Tuesday, it was hard for me to accept the painful reality that most rash and blisters were on my face.
I admit I got insecure with my physical beauty or what was left of it. I can’t say that I used to be really beautiful according to the average man’s standards. I can say I was uniquely pretty and petite, with my deep set eyes, natural complexion and be-dimpled smile. My face was not really smooth, as I had some small zits here and there. However, my face powder did wonders as a concealer of my flaws. I used to be contented with an even tone after applying it. Match it with my blackish brown eyebrow pencil and lipstick, and I was ready to go anywhere.
How can I hide my “flaws” now when they are really visible, with all the red rash and blisters, which will later turn into scabs and then scars? Is there a powder to do this “magic trick”? I don’t think so. I might look like white-washed pebbled pavement. How about using liquid foundation to even out the tone? I don’t think so. I might look like vanilla “Pinipig Crunch” (ice cream popsicle with nuts and rice crispies). I don’t even want to ask if I want to try putting on some concealer. The whole stick might be consumed at one time only. Wait, how about dermabrasion? How about diamond peel? How about skin bleaching? There are more options but these are the pricey ones. Besides, I need to budget for a dermatologist’s professional fee before paying for any of these procedures.
I am forecasting way too many scabs and scars on my face for the next days or so. How can I face this problem if the problem is really my face? Hmmm… I don’t know the answer for now. I need to find out the answers myself. I better do my research real quick. I only have a few days left before my deadline. I am now saying this mantra to myself and I quote my favorite Catholic preacher Bo Sanchez, “ Every storm will end.” Rightly said and well meant that is.

Late Bloomer

Yes, you read it right. I am such a real late bloomer for chickenpox. Just 3 weeks before turning 29 years old, I contracted the much-feared varicella virus. One of the symptoms was body malaise. Last Friday, I did not understand myself, particularly my body, why I was feeling weak. My joints especially my knees, were wobbly and quite painful. Even adding a cup over my daily cup of coffee was not helpful. I pitied my son who had to endure playing alone or watching tv alone, just because his Mommy was "busy" sleeping in bed. After my graduate school classes last Saturday, I also drank an extra cup of coffee. It also did not help. I slept again silly, even before my son's bedtime.

Last Sunday, I decided to make up for lost time with my son. We rented a tricyle and availed of the driver's services so that we can "tour" the town's pier, market, bay walk park, freedom park and nature park. We took some cute pictures. We also had a sumptuous lunch with my granddad and my grand uncle. It was practically a seafood feast. Knowing that I was seafood allergic, my mom reminded me not to eat anything that will cause me rashes, skin asthma, and whatever nightmares associated with allergies. The little devil in me tempted me to tasted just a small slice of squid. Sure enough, I have added it to my plate and consumed it along with some fish, vegetables and mangoes. I did not miss taking my prednisone tablet after the meal.

Some two hours later, I felt an itch in my lower back area. There was the urge to scratch it but I got curious of its appearance so I checked it in the mirror. Lo and behold! It seemed like a chickenpox red rash (small blister). I called my mom to check it for me. She confirmed it. I got the chickenpox. I had the symptom of body malaise and it was just the squid, which triggered the rash.

I was always vulnerable to catch it. For the last 29 years of my life, I was not able to get the varicella vaccine shot. My mom currently has shingles, a disease caused by the Herpes zoster virus. My eleven year old sister just recently contracted chickenpox. After all, the varicella virus is airborne. No matter how hard I tried not to catch it, I was really susceptible to get it. I was not like my son who got his varicella vaccine shot when he turned a year old. Even if he did, I reversely isolated him in our room. His main caregiver right now is his nanny. She is really a stay-out nanny who goes home every night at 6pm. Because of my current condition, she agreed to do stay-in services the whole day for a week or two, for an extra pay.

So, here I am on the 3rd day of nursing myself. The low fever has gone last Monday, but I am still suffering from rash and blisters all over my face. Some are in my chest, shoulders and back. There are very few in my legs and hands. I researched that as the disease progresses, the blisters break open and form scabs, which fall off after about one to two weeks. So, how will I be able to cope with the scabs, and scars later on?