"The human being is a  surprisingly resilient organism. We impel toward health, not sickness. Your spirit, as surely as your body, will try to heal...So you should not fear tragedy and suffering. Like love, they make you more a part of the human family...They are the fire that burns you pure."

~ Kent Nerburn, Simple Truths

 We lost a second angel this year.

The circumstances were eerily similar to the previous baby we lost. I found out I was pregnant by the 5th week. Had an ultrasound by the 6th week to check on the heartbeat; cardiac activity was detected, but so was a subchorionic hemorrhage. After two weeks, back to the sonologist to check on the size of the SCH and the baby's development. The size of the SCH decreased, but the baby's cardiac activity revealed only a flatline. Early embryonic demise at about 7 weeks AOG.

I was watching the monitor intently the entire time I was having the scan. Even before the sonologist turned the monitor away from me, I knew something was wrong. No, it wasn't just his facial expression that told me so. I was already familiar with the foetus' outline - how it was NOT supposed to look like, at least. And that wasn't how the baby was supposed to look like.

Over and over, the good doctor tried to look for a heartbeat. But for each flatline I saw, my spirits continued to sink. I knew what he was going to tell me. And before he could even say, "I'm sorry," I was already lost in my own personal abyss. Yet I was still able to tell him, "Yes, I know." By then, I had already successfully put on my most convincing poker face. I took it matter-of-factly.

But the truth was, my world stopped for a while and continued on in slow motion, as if I was in a drug-induced stupor. I heard him ask me if it was okay to call in my husband, and I found myself mechanically nodding my head and thinking, what else can you say that can change things? Seeing my husband walk in with a shit-oh-no-here-we-go-again look, and the pain in his eyes when the doctor showed him the baby's heart, silent and still. 

We went back to my OB Gyne to show her the results, not talking, just holding hands. There were no words. Only that grave, familiar feeling that we wished we never knew.

 

I am putting my thoughts and feelings out here not to ask for comfort, or advice, or reasons. Because there is no comfort right now. Because I don't need advice. Because there are no reasons that I can humanly fathom.

 

Only feelings. Of anger. Of sorrow. Of bitterness.

 

I feel angry at the laboratory that processed my blood tests. Yes, I know they said results will be in two to three weeks' time, but have they never heard of a life-and-death situation? I insisted twice on getting the results early, twice I was told the same thing...yet when my OB gave them hell, they were able to produce the results in 15 minutes. But it was useless. She was already holding the second ultrasound result. At some point, I wanted to blame the lab. I am angered at the life I had lost and at their incompetence and insensitivity. I could have been given the proper treatment to save my baby's life had they not wasted their time sitting on their motherfucking slacker asses. I am angry that I am so helpless.

 

I am deeply sorrowed for another beautiful life lost. A life we eagerly anticipated would bring more happiness and love into our family. I am sad because I was powerless to do anything to save him (Yes, I know in my heart that I carried a little boy). I am sad because I was not able to save his sister, either (I also felt in my heart that the previous one was a little girl).

I am bitter because I feel like I failed my husband and my son. Yes, I know it's not my fault, it's nobody's fault. But that is how I feel. I saw other mothers at the hospital that day, with their big bellies and their expressions of bliss and I think, why could I not do that again? 

The most difficult part of this ordeal was in breaking the news to my son. We told him we lost the baby, and he said, "Again?!" He leaned on my shoulders and hugged me, and it took all the energy in my body not to break down in front of him. I couldn't do that to my son. I gave him a rational answer, though rational was the last thing I felt at that time. 

Whenever I see images of siblings on books, on the internet, on TV, anywhere...I feel a knife going through my heart for what my son couldn't have. I long to give him a brother or a sister, because I know how lonely it can be without one. But I can't. And it hurts like hell.

Dear reader, don't tell me there is hope yet. Don't tell me I can try again. Don't tell me that God's plans are not our plans. I know all that. But I don't want to hear it.

I just want to feel. I am allowing myself this, for the moment. I lost another life and I have every right to grieve, and no one has the right to tell me otherwise.

I will see you someday, my little ones. Mommy owes you both some hugs and kisses.

Spoiler Brats

Obviously, this is a rant-related post.

Today is the American Idol Season 10 finale. As expected, there are some who just couldn't resist posting the results.

It's probably my fault that I checked my FB and Twitter accounts right before the winner was declared. Serves me right. Now I know who the winner is even before I've seen the show.

What is it with certain people's desire to announce to the world that they're the first to know? Is it a childish impulse? Is it a deep seated wish to be superior to everyone else? Or is it simply to annoy others? And I'm not just talking about AI results. It could be a boxing match, the Oscars, the FIFA championship match...you know, those things that you'd rather watch from start to finish. Reminds me of that one time many years ago when I said I wanted to watch "The Sixth Sense", and my colleague pointed out that Bruce Willis was a ghost. Thank goodness she hasn't found her way to my friend's list (yet).

I know that some of those who post the spoilers probably just forget the fact that we live in different time zones. That's an honest mistake and it's forgivable. But I'm sure that, on your friend's list, you can readily identify who the spoiler brats are.

I have a few on my list. And my expectations did not fail me. They did post the information on their status messages.

I know that in this day and age, things like that are inescapable. Events are already on the news as they unfold. One of the pitfalls of technology, I guess. I just wish that some individuals would learn to be a bit more sensitive (especially if most of their friends live in the same time zone as theirs!). And if it isn't the most ironic of ironies, they themselves are some of the most sensitive and reactionary people I know...as if the world owes them sensitivity when they themselves are not ready to give it.

The "unfriend" button lurks somewhere and is giving me a knowing look. It's probably a better friend at this point.

The anniversary gift

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

~A Midsummer Night's Dream 

In my previous entry, we were a few days away from our 6th anniversary and I did not have a gift for my husband yet. Like I mentioned, he had just been away on a business trip and was able to squeeze in some time for shopping, and so at the moment, he had everything he wanted and needed.

So I surprised him with these:

Okay, so it wasn't really a surprise. He already knew I bought these in advance. We're both fans, and their first album was our constant companion during our long drives home, back when we were still working for a television network. It's also the same CD that put our then-infant son to sleep the moment he sits in the car. Initially, I wanted to get the gold tickets, but after discussing with a good friend, I realised it would be more practical to settle with the silver ones. So I went ahead to purchase a couple of them. Sure, the concert will be almost a month after our anniversary, but the timing shouldn't really matter when you're in the company of your other half.

Apparently, this concert is not meant for us.

About a week after I made the purchase, hubby broke the news that he needs to go overseas for an important training. It's not something he can miss nor pass on to somebody else. And it will be on May 24. I was a bit crestfallen, but he said he can still figure out a way to watch the concert, then take the first flight out. Sounded like a good plan.

But the airlines weren't on our side. The earliest flights available were all fully booked, and the next available ones are already too late for him to make it to the training.

Eff it. Eff it. EFF IT!

To his credit, my husband generally tried to be inconspicuous for the remainder of yesterday (he broke the news to me late afternoon). I guess it wasn't hard to stay out of the way of a scowling wife. And even when I was snapping at him at the rate of about once every millisecond, he never lost his patience and remained calm, giving me small, apologetic smiles. I think that one infuriated me even more. And so while the rest of the world oohed and aahed over Kate Middleton's gown, I was simmering in my own temper and busily pondering my botched concert plans (although I did spare some time to gawk at the lovely, lovely hats).

Seeing how upset I was, hubby told me that I can just go ahead and watch it. He knew how badly I wanted to see it. But, for the life of me, how can I go on and enjoy it when my heart was set on having him as my concert date? And, for crying out loud, it was my anniversary gift to him! So I told him I lost all my desire to watch the concert, and that I was selling the tickets. If nobody wants to buy it, I guess I'll just throw them away or give it away, whichever comes first. The bottomline was, I felt pissed to the high heavens, and could he just give me a few days to calm down because I wasn't really feeling him at the moment.

Today, he was still wearing a contrite look as he left to attend some meetings. While I'm not expecting him to say sorry because it wasn't really his fault, I don't think I am going to apologise for being so pissed off, because I feel I have every right to be: I can't go to the concert date I had planned for us, and I am expected to just accept it because it's all about work. It brought back memories of when he was not around on my birthday two years ago, a first in our 10 years of being together. And, yes, work-related travel was again the culprit.

Sometimes, it's hard to be an understanding wife.Especially when you have a husband with this kind of a job. I know it's a small price to pay for the benefits we receive, in terms of financial rewards and career growth for my husband. But I guess this is part of the work that goes in a marriage. It can't be rosy all the time.

Now that I have some time alone, I realise I was probably too hard on him, considering he might be dealing with his guilt, too. So tonight, when he comes home, I'll probably be less likely to bite his face off and make up for the crabbiness by cooking him dinner. I don't think I'll be 100% back to my normal self yet (especially since I keep seeing all those concert plugs on TV), but knowing me, it won't take me more than three days to forget about this brouhaha.

How glad I am I have this book to keep me company:

 

They don't call it chicken soup for nothing. It's like balm on my frazzled wifely nerves. If you're married or in a relationship (whether you're a man or a woman), I suggest you get a copy of this book. It has the ability to remind you how trivial some of our concerns are. The book chose to give me a bitch slap with a quote from Malcolm Forbes: "Presence is more than just being there."

 

I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I promise.

P.S. If you know anyone interested in my concert tickets, do let me know. Thanks in advance.

Of metronomes and anthems

It is another moment of triumph for Filipinos everywhere as Manny Pacquiao scored another victory in the ring, this time over Ghana's Joshua Clottey. True, yesterday's 12-rounder was a bit ho-hum, considering Clottey did nothing but hold his arms over his face for the majority of the fight - plus the fact that what we really want is Mayweather['s face] on the canvas - but, still, a victory is a victory. So congratulations are in order for Team Pacquiao (especially Freddie Roach).

That being said, it irks me no end that some people find it in them to ruin a perfectly glorious moment.

One of the headlines on Yahoo! News today caught my attention: "Arnel Pineda's version of RP anthem criticized". For those of you Filipinos who [live under a rock and] didn't get to watch the fight, Pineda was given the honor to sing the Philippine National Anthem.

Apparently, the National Historical Institute deemed the Journey frontman's version "wrong", ergo, they find it essential to file a complaint to the Department of Justice.

And what, exactly, was their issue with Pineda's version? According to the article, "under Section 37 of RA 8491 or the Flag and Heraldic Code, the national anthem must be sung in accordance with the original musical arrangement of composer Julian Felipe, who gave it a marching tempo. Violators may be fined Php5,000 to Php20,000 or jailed for a year." Furthermore, Lupang Hinirang must be "properly sung with a two-fourths beat and 100 metronomes," which should make it last for 53 seconds, instead of the 89-second version that Pineda delivered.

Let's be clear on one thing: I'm not exactly a Pineda fan (though I must admit he's got the vocal chops). Neither am I pro-NHI; I am sure the agency is just doing its job. But, my goodness, how ANAL can they get? If they're that obsessive, maybe they should consider putting together an Association for National Anthem Literacy or something...

Until this day, I've never heard of an effing metronome, much less know what to do with it. I heard Pineda's version, and while, admittedly, it might have been slower than the prescribed marching beat, my amateur ears detected nothing criminally wrong with his rendition. To me, his interpretation was heartfelt, and more than enough to remind me how proud I am to be a Filipino by birthright.


A string of other talented Filipino singers received the same frown from NHI: Charice Pempengco, La Diva, Sarah Geronimo, Lani Misalucha and Kyla got less-than-stellar reviews from the board. I only agreed with the NHI on two counts: Martin Nievera and Christian Bautista, both of whom delivered harrowing renditions; but still, I don't see how that's enough to earn them DOJ's attention. The only injustice here would be to take the DOJ's attention away from more important cases and concentrate on metronomes.

Look, when we were in primary school and were first taught the National Anthem, what were the things they told us? Were we instructed to keep it at two-fourths beat and 100 metronomes (egad, I hate that word!)? Did our teachers ever whip out a stopwatch and give detention to anyone who sang it at 00:53:04 seconds or beyond? Hell, no (well, at least not in my school...)!

The only thing I remember being required to do was to sing Lupang Hinirang with nothing less than respect and reverence, with your right hand placed over your left chest, and with your eyes looking straight at the flag. Respect, not metronome, was the order of the day.

In fairness to him, I felt Pineda's sincerity and respect in singing the National Anthem. He's made a name for himself so he probably doesn't need the 89 seconds of fame this stint bought for him (or cost him, depending on your perspective). But, more than anything else, he certainly does not deserve the flak he's getting from NHI just because he sang it a few beats too slowly. That goes for all the other singers, as well (barring Nievera and Bautista).

Rather than stirring up the dust after each and every rendition of Lupang Hinirang, here's an idea for the NHI: maybe they should just put together a group of official National Anthem singers, train them in the prescribed metronomically-correct beat, and send out an official circular/pass a Congressional bill/whatever that one can only source out singers from that official group, so that future versions are guaranteed 100% correct. That would certainly be more constructive, don't you think?

I hope Pacquaio retires immediately. With a looming fine and possible jail term, I don't think any singer in his right mind should carry the responsibility of singing our National Anthem. Any volunteers from NHI?

WTF are you thinking?

Why people would use the expression OMFG is beyond me.

Maybe they think it's cool to quote quotes from Gossip Girl. Maybe they want to take OMG a notch higher. Or maybe they don't even know what it means, and simply parrot it because "it sounds cool".

You don't have to be Einstein to realise that OMFG means "oh my f*****g god". For crying out loud, IT IS NOT COOL TO CURSE OUR GOD! It makes me squirm just to think about it.

And I'm not just talking about pubescent girls here; even the supposedly mature, "well-educated" "professional" uses the term. Apparently, they didn't learn enough. I think they forgot that the First Commandment said You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain.

Yeah, I'm talking to you. WTF ARE YOU THINKING? IT IS NOT COOL TO SAY "OMFG"!