Our OB warned us—warned Oneal, actually—that pregnancy would make me quite emotional. “It’s all the hormones,” she explained. “Bigla na lang iiyak, or magiging masungit.”
We laughed it off. Oneal was used to me being like that, especially when I had PMS. He was used to seeing me cry at TV commercials, or movies, or our TV shows. But we weren’t prepared for all the ways that would manifest!
Obviously I was in tears when we went for our first ultrasound, back in April. That wasn’t unexpected at all.
Perhaps the first time the hormones really struck was a few weeks later. We were in UP Town Center, waiting for my mom and my brother. We were going to UP for a picnic with some friends. Oneal and I had lunch, and we roamed around the mall.
We saw a toy store, and of course we had to step inside! We even ran into some friends. After they left, we poked around, and I wandered into the aisle with all the stuffed toys. There, sitting on top of the shelf, was Mr. Snuffleupagus.
I picked him up, hugged him, and started crying. Oneal saw me, and started laughing. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know!” I wept. “He’s not even my favorite Sesame Street character!” I held Snuffy close, and tears streamed down my face. “We have to bring him home. Because friendship, and imagination!”
Oneal laughed, and we went to the cashier, where I paid for Snuffy and the staff offered to remove him from the packaging. Even they could tell I wasn’t putting him down! He’s been sleeping beside me since then.
I guess that makes him our child’s first stuffed animal!
A few days ago, I went to White Space on Katipunan for pre-natal yoga. Our friend Paul treated me to a private session, with Teacher Eena, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I was so happy with the exertion, the stretching, and the meditation.
Towards the end of the session, Teacher Eena positioned me in a sort of swastika on the floor. I was lying on my left side, my left arm bent downward at 90 degrees. My right arm was on a pillow beside me, bent upwards at 90 degrees. My left leg was bent at the knee, while my right was bent at the hip and the knee. I lay there peacefully, my eyes closed, and Teacher Eena’s soft and calming voice led me in meditation.
She told me to imagine a door, to visualize it, to make it look like anything I wanted. I imagined a green wooden door, perhaps a little weathered, the paint worn in parts, I imagined a brass door knob.
Then she told me to open the door, and to see my little baby inside. I imagined Lil Ass-Kicker as a little cartoon baby, hair disheveled, face lit up with a smile. I imagined laughter and play, and I felt a few tears fall to the pillow underneath my face.
“I’ll see you soon,” I told my child silently.
Songs for the Child
I was driving to the grocery yesterday, and I was listening to the radio when this song came on:
I was in high school when this was released, and I loved it then. I still knew all the words, and I sang along loudly in the solitude of Dad’s car. And as I heard the words, I thought about how these are things I’d like to tell my child. And I got a little weepy.
Later, maybe on the way home, I heard another song. I thought it was Natasha Bedingfield, but it turned out to be Selena Gomez’s “Who Says”! I wasn’t sure if I’d heard the song before, but it sounded like something from a shampoo commercial.
Then I heard the chorus a few times, and I thought about how we were going to have a perfect, beautiful child.
Who says, who says you’re not perfect?
Who says you’re not worth it?
Who says you’re the only one that’s hurtin’?
Trust me, that’s the price of beauty
Who says you’re not pretty?
Who says you’re not beautiful?
And I got really weepy. Dammit!
So yeah, I expect to get worse as my pregnancy progresses. Good thing Oneal is used to me and my insta-tears.