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.
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| 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,
