Dear Peanut

Dear Peanut,

Earlier this week, we went to visit Dra.CTP for your second checkup and she made it official that you are fat. Okay, so harsh. But yeah, you’re too heavy for your age. Your current weight (4.2 kg) at 1.5 months should be your weight when you’re 2 months old. Ayan, ang takaw takaw mo kasi! Anyway, nothing serious. But Dra.CTP told us to lower the amount of FM we give you during feedings.

The other night, we watched Judy Ann Santo’s movie titled Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo while waiting for the next feeding at 12am. We laughed so hard because many of the “grandparents” scenes reminded us of our own parents—your Lola Mommy, Lolo Daddy, and Lola Mama. There was a scene there when the grandparents were complaining about the parents’ decision not to give too many cakes, candies, and ice cream to an already fat kid.

A few minutes ago, while I was watching you sleep on your Daddy’s chest, I got to thinking. Most people, especially Filipinos, tend to let kids eat as much candy, cakes, and ice cream because they want the kids to “enjoy their childhood.” And we’re talking about small kids, like 5-year-olds.

It makes me wonder…sure, these sweets were parts of our childhood too. But I have no distinct memory of my parents letting me eat all the ice cream and cakes that I wanted. Probably not because it didn’t happen, but most likely because they didn’t want me to get too fat that I won’t fit in my clothes anymore.

Okay, I was a fat kid. Wait, I wasn’t that fat. I didn’t look like the Michelin man but I sure had a hard time getting rid of the baby fats. I remember having insecurities about my baby fats all the way till 6th grade. I officially got rid of the fats when I got my braces in freshman high school. I lost so much weight in 2 months (I think) because I couldn’t eat anything other than soft bread and Cheese Whiz, and Knorr soup. They’re not healthy foods but the pain of wearing braces took their toll on me. I hope you won’t inherit my teeth problems (namamana ba yung sungki?) so you won’t have to wear braces like I did.

As we were fitting you into your onesie this morning, your father and I agreed on another parenting plan: We would train and encourage you to eat healthy foods for as long as we can (hangga’t hindi ka makakapalag, hahaha) and teach you that sweets are optional treats.

The thing about Filipino eating habits is that many people think of dessert as something you can’t go without and you should have it every single day with every single meal.

If we teach you to think that sweets are optional treats you can enjoy after a meal (but not every meal), then you can lower your risk for obesity. And if you are healthy and fit, then the more you can enjoy these sweet indulgences.

I disagree that you should allow kids to eat as many sweets as they can because it’s part of their childhood. Hell, young kids won’t even remember it. I mean, if I ate an entire chocolate like that scene in Matilda, I want to be old enough to remember it and old enough to know that it’s wrong. I want you to enjoy all the cake slices that you want but in moderation.

Why are we doing this? Because we want you to enjoy life and all the sweets it can offer.

So that when you grow up, you can be the Fat Kid Inside and marry someone as beautiful and amazing as Anne Curtis (your mother is such a fan of the #ErwAnne love team). But for now, you are officially the “Fat Kid Inside the House of Derla.”

xoxo,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

As you turned, officially, 6-week-old today, I want to share with you a photo of the medical team who did our stat CS operation last November 2, 2017.

When we were pregnant, we received A LOT of advice—both solicited and unsolicited. We listened to most of them but there were also some we dismissed almost immediately.

Back in Malaysia, I remember how I Google-d the shit out of everything the moment we found out about you. We didn’t know a thing. So we wanted to be prepared for our first prenatal checkup.

I remember how I would have a long list of questions for our first OB-GYN, Dra.AZ, and how she would often find my “praning” questions funny. She was very patient with me and we liked her. But I also felt that since she’s Malaysian and we’re Filipinos, there was this sense of “disconnection” because she couldn’t relate to the things we were concerned about—like if I could color my hair during my pregnancy.

So that led me to Google a lot, instead, and ask my “mommy friends.”

When we went back to Manila and met our Filipino OB-GYN for the first time, I was also prepared with a list of questions. Dra.JMF answered them all but I sensed that she saw through my “ka-praningan” and found my real problem. I research a lot that I often end up scaring myself to the point of stressing myself out. And you know what, she gave me one of the best advice we were given: Stop reading mommy blog and forums. If you have questions, ask your doctor.

As a writer, researching is part of what I do, and probably who I am. When Dra.JMF pointed out my problem, I realized that I was depriving myself of the joys of pregnancy because of my fears. Mommy blogs, forums, and many related websites tend to contradict one another that you can get stuck in the middle—paralyzed and more confused than ever. What you need to do is to find good doctors and trust them.

I’d like to dedicate this blog post to the amazing doctors who took care of us when we gave birth to you. It was such an amazing experience! :) And we will forever be grateful for the generosity they extended to us.

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

You’re officially 6 weeks old today.

Your daddy and I are still wide awake at exactly 1:21 AM, trying to finish some of the backlogs we have while you’re sleeping. Two hours from now you’ll wake up, just in time for your 3AM feeding.

We know that clocks and time don’t mean anything to babies as young as you are. But we have successfully trained you to wake up every two or three hours to feed. Yey! Six weeks na din kami puyat, dilat, at bangag due to sleep deprivation.

We have so much to tell you, anak. So many stories about our shared firsts. We often talk to you and you would goo and gaa and make baby sounds nobody understands but for now, all we can do is chronicle them in this blog so you can read them someday.

Today, I want to go back to your Day 1 here on Earth and tell you about your daddy’s Tuxedo Mask (reference to Sailor Moon) transformation and why, I think, he’s the most valuable player in our birthing gameplay.

I remember it all so vividly—the moment your father entered the operating room on November 2, 2017 a few minutes before 5:00 PM (You were born at exactly 4:55PM). He was wearing a lab coat and medical cap, all eager to see his mag-ina. He saw me first, sprawled on the operating table—naked and wide awake. He went to me first and soon, the doctor carried you to us and finally, we are three.

I noticed that he was teary-eyed. But I also noticed that half of the Go-Pro camera, which was attached to his head, was covered by the medical cap he was wearing. So, most of the photos and videos he took with the GoPro had that “medical cap” blue filter. It was a bit annoying, after all, your birth is a once-in-a-lifetime event, but also funny because he spent almost a week trying to figure out how to use the GoPro we borrowed from your aunt. He panicked and poof, medical cap blue filter.

Photo taken after the doctors told him that the medical cap was covering the GoPro camera.

I remember it all so vividly—the moment I saw him enter our private room at the hospital as though I was seeing him for the first time again. I felt like I had been away from him for days, even months, even though I only stayed at the recovery room for 2.5 hours before they transferred me.

He was out fixing some paperwork when they wheeled me to our room. I was wide awake, eager to share with everyone how our operation went. Your grandparents were the ones who helped me get comfortable in our room and then your daddy arrived and kissed me on the forehead and congratulated me for a job well done.

I remember it all so vividly—our first night at the hospital. Perhaps, that was when the exact moment of his Tuxedo Mask transformation finally happened. We had a small room, with only a couch for your father to sleep on. It was only the three of us in the room that night because we insisted that we can survive the night on our own.

I couldn’t move and I kept on asking for water. At the same time, you were crying and asking to be fed. I remember how your daddy would help me drink water using a straw (because I couldn’t get up) and how he would soothe your cries and bring you to me to breastfeed.

Your daddy had two patients to take care of that night and all the nights that followed during our 5-day staycation at TMC. I couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling—exhausted and overwhelmed. The two of us were running on endorphins and love.

I remember how afraid he was to hold you at first, but soon got the hang of it. I remember how we juggled sleeping rotations—the first of many. I remember how one time, he screamed because you pooped and it smelled horrible and he had to clean you up for the first time.

I remember that I laughed at him first but also brimmed with pride because it was the first of many nappy changes. Fast forward six weeks, you would shoot a poop while he’s changing your nappy and the yellowish goo would land on his feet. And now, we're both experts in diaper changes.

I remember it all so vividly—how your father embraced and held me close during our 4th night at the hospital while you were at the NICU bathing at their fancy tanning salon. I was crying and feeling terrified and disappointed and stressed and exhausted. But it was also your father who answered the call the following morning and we were told that Dra.CL already gave your discharge orders.

I remember it all so vividly—how your daddy would give me my pain meds and help me get up from bed when the anesthesia finally wore off. And he continued to do this when we got home. I remember our first few days and nights at home when we both would get up to feed and change your nappy. I remember how sometimes, your father would do it all on his own because I was still recovering from the operation and needed sleep.

As a first-time mother battling with flat nipples and latch-on issues, coupled with sleep deprivation and fear of not knowing a shit about motherhood, it is so easy to get disappointed and frustrated when you finally realize that taking care of a newborn baby is not all rainbows and butterflies.

I remember how your daddy would take charge and take care of everything when I am near my snapping point that sometimes, I would feel envious of how he’s able to get you to calm down and sleep at 3:00 o’clock in the morning. He said I need to be more patient, a virtue I’m still having a hard time developing.

Giving birth and taking care of a newborn baby really requires teamwork. We have always been independent, your father and I, but as we soon learned, it really takes a village to raise a child. In the weeks that followed your arrival at home, your grandparents made their rounds to help us around the house, bring home-cooked meals and fruits, force-feed me malunggay, and take care of you. I couldn’t imagine how it would have been if we gave birth abroad. And now, even with YayaL in the house, we're still very hands-on with you.

If taking care of a newborn baby is a game and we’re one big team, then your father would definitely be the most valuable player. Yes, I was the one who carried you for 9 months and it was me who went through the operation. But all these things wouldn’t be possible without the support of our entire family and the patience of your father.

I’d like to take a line from your daddy’s latest love letter to me and make it my own, “I believe that taking him as the man to be by my side may just as well be the most important decision I have made in my life.”

And I will always remember all these moments and the moments that have yet to be made—because each of them reminds me of how I never knew I could love even more until I held both of you in my arms for the first time.

Love,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

Today’s Friday and since I have brunch with your Ramen aunties tomorrow at Shangri-La Plaza, your daddy and I agreed that he would take the 3AM shift and I’ll take over the 6AM shift. Even if we have full-time help at the condo now, your father and I are still 100 percent hands-on with you.

We were told (over and over again, by fellow parent-friends) that the first few months will be hard because of sleep deprivation. We thought we’d wing it and it wouldn’t be much of a change since we’re used to sleeping really late. But my god, sleep deprivation when you have a newborn is fucking different (more on that later).

Anyway, we have so many things to tell you. But let me write a quick blog entry about a kurot-sa-puso moment I had a few minutes ago before I work on some pending projects.

Your daddy said he’ll take a power nap first but you cried and he picked you up from your crib. He placed you on top of his chest, where you like to sleep, so you can calm down. I entered our bedroom and saw the two of you sleeping.

You’re so tiny. Your entire body could not even cover the length of your father’s torso. Your outstretched arms are hugging your father’s chest, trying to cover as much area as you can. Nakadapa ka sa chest ng daddy mo, so your nappy is facing upwards and your tiny face is secured under your daddy’s chin.

I just wanted to get the phone charger, haha. But I slipped my 5-week postpartum body beside your daddy and stared at you two for a while. You’re still half awake, trying to see where the light is coming from (I opened the lights when I entered the room). Your lips are moving and I wonder what you’re thinking.

For a while there, I wonder if you’ll remember any of these moments when you grow up. I wonder if you’ll remember that your parents have chosen shared parenting. I wonder if you’ll remember the little things and little moments like these that make every sleepless night worth it. I wonder if you’ll remember all of these so that you can appreciate them in the future.

Of course, you won’t remember any of these details because you’re still so young. I can’t even recall my earliest memories as a baby.

I don’t have memories of wailing so late into the night, of my nappy getting changed, of baby-self being bathe and cooed and fed. I don’t have memories of being held in my parents’ arms not because they didn’t happen, but because I was too young to remember. I was too young to remember how they probably felt all the joy, fears, pride, disappointments, and overwhelming happiness your father and I are feeling now.

And it makes me wonder, if only children can remember all the things their parents have sacrificed for them in their first few hours, days, weeks, months, and years of life, our relationships with our parents would probably get better, best even.

If only children can remember all the late nights and all the little things parents do for them when they were still babies--scared and helpless, we would probably look at our parents more lovingly and with more understanding eyes.

If only children can remember all the sacrifices their parents have made, make, and will continue to make for them right from the very start, we would probably understand our parents all the more and won’t ever double guess if they do love us or not.

And that’s actually the point of this blog.

SC and I want to document all these little things because you’re too young to make memories yet. And we also want you to know that as new parents, we make a lot of mistakes, and sometimes, it’s so easy to snap and cry because of the combination of fear and sleep deprivation.

We are sometimes afraid that we’re doing things wrong. We are sometimes afraid because it’s a totally new ball game for us and even if we’ve read the rules, we are still crafting our own gameplay.

Parents are born as soon as their babies are born. And it feels like we’re pushed inside the ring without much of a prep. We want you to know that we’re learning, and we’re learning fast.

Lastly, through the blog, we want you to know that sometimes, we lose our shit. We’re just often good at hiding it.

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Hello there!

My own breastfeeding journey (read it here, here, and here) has made me a strong advocate of Mixed Feeding. When Smart Parenting published an edited version of my original blog (read it here) on their website, it made me realize that there are so many mothers out there who give their babies BOTH breast milk and formula milk.

I launched the new series Mixed Feelings Mixed Feedings #MFMF on the #DearPeanut Blog because I wanted to help fellow mixed feeding mothers share their own stories about the struggles and triumphs, fears and hopes, pride and disappointments about the feeding process, particularly how they decided to mix feed their babies and their feelings about it.

The goal is to provide a venue where fellow moms can share their feeding stories - whether it's breastfeeding, bottlefeeding, formula feeding, and/or mixed feeding. The goal is to help spread love and support because as parents, we all want the best for our kids, right?

The real pressures to exclusively breastfeed (direct latch, no bottle feeding breastmilk) has become so EXTRA that many people now think feeding your baby formula milk is synonymous with giving poison.

Mothers shouldn't be made to feel they're committing a crime or an injustice if they give their babies formula milk. This is just utterly wrong. Don’t we all want the best for our babies? I think there’s an urgent need for stronger support for women who formula feed but still want to give breastmilk for as long as they can.

If you have stories and/or lessons to share, please see the mechanics below on how to join.

1.  Send you story to me via email (kceustaquio@gmail.com) or Facebook Messenger (Kath C. Eustaquio-Derla or Author Kath C. Eustaquio-Derla)
2.  Your story should be at least 300 words and written in English. Taglish is acceptable, but the entry should be written mostly in English.
3.  Please attach at least 3 photos to accompany your story. Maximum of 5 photos per entry.
4.  Don’t worry about grammar. Our editors will review and edit your story before we publish them online.
5.  All approved stories will be published on the #DearPeanut blog and shared on Facebook.

What are you waiting for? Share your #MixedFeelingMixedFeeding #MFMF stories today.


SUBMISSIONS

1. #MFMF: Kallisha Kring's Mixed Feeding Journey
2. #MFMF: Rachele Ranet-de Sagun's Mixed Feeding Journey
3. #MFMF: K A R L A 's Mixed Feeding Journey
4. #MFMF: Marlette Luz Valdez Fulay's Mixed Feeding Journey
5. #MFMF: Crizia Eugenio's Mixed Feeding Journey
6. #MFMF: Marie Antonette's Mixed Feeding Journey
7. #MFMF: Zhy Permejo Guinto's Mixed Feeding Journey
8. #MFMF: Marla Mae Centeno's Mixed Feeding Journey
9. #MFMF: Tens Ogbinar Celis' Mixed Feeding Journey
10. #MFMF: Aidelenn Wong-Bajandi's Mixed Feeding Journey