Birth joys

Birth joys


Posted 03:18am (Mla time) Jan 23, 2005
By Cecinia L. Vallejera
Inquirer News Service



WHILE haggling for the best price at "wagwag" stores or scouting for choice cuts in the local meat shop, I would occasionally meet people who greet me effusively. Of course, I'd reciprocate the gesture, although most of the time I do not quite recognize who they are. Usually, taking the cue from there, they would then take it upon themselves to tell me how they came to know me. They'd explain that their mothers had told them I was the midwife at their birth. They would then name their mothers (many of whom I have no recollection).
I have been a midwife these past 42 years, and my, you can just imagine how many women I have assisted in birth. Some of them even have grandchildren now. And a good number of the babies I have pulled out of their wombs are now professionals-engineers, teachers, etc.

These 42 years have given me many good laughs-at how mothers cope with the pain of childbirth, each in their own ways; and how fathers respond to their wives during labor. The whole experience has provided me insights into the wonderful world of parenthood.

Talk about mothers who seem to lose their minds when the pain of labor sets in. They lie on the floor, yell at their husbands or bite their nails. There was one mother I assisted in 1987 who went up and down the stairs; nobody could stop her and she begged to be left alone.

Then there are mothers who curse their husbands to hell with the nastiest expletives, blaming them for the extreme pain. Hah! As if they did not enjoy, too, the romance that went along with their child's creation! And, of course, there are the those who, at pain's peak, swear to the highest heavens never to give birth again, only to get back the next year, and the next, and the next, for their regular pre-natal check-ups.

I'll never forget Sarah, a classmate of one of my children, who gave birth the "ideal" way. Sarah is every midwife's ideal mom. Tell her to calm down, and she will. You can see the pain on her face-and her attempt to conceal it-but you will never see her fret or lose her composure. She will follow your every instruction, such as "breathe deeply, push, push, slowly now, bear down." If all mothers in labor were like Sarah, then midwives would have no nightmares.

Now, about husbands. I've seen a husband gently wiping the tears and sweat from his wife's face while the latter kept crying that she could die anytime soon as she could no longer bear the pain. The husband stood by her, comforting her and building her strength with loving words. Writhing in pain, the wife asked if he'd marry again should she die. Already weeping himself, the husband replied, "Mama, wag kang magtatanong ng ganyan, hindi ka mamamatay, kayanin mo (Mama, don't ask me that question, you're not going to die. You're going to make it)." It was then that our janitor, who was called in to replace the already messy sheets on the delivery table, butted in, "Kayanin mo misis, kung ayaw mong iba na 'yung magsuot ng mga duster mo at magdilig ng mga halaman mo (Madam, if you don't want somebody else wearing your housecoat and water your garden plants, you better make it)."

Another husband was so overwhelmed to see that his firstborn was a baby boy, but he had to rejoice discreetly to avoid hurting his mother-in-law who wanted a baby girl as her first apo (grandchild). When I asked for baby clothes, he took out neatly ironed baby stuff, all colored pink, embroidered with the name "Clarissa," which were obviously prepared by the granny. Extremely overjoyed, he treated us to a sumptuous merienda of pancit palabok and siopao. I later stood as one of the ninangs (godmothers) of the baby who was named Clarence. I wonder if the granny ever bothered to change Clarissa to Clarence on the baby's pink clothes.

Not to forget the irresponsible husbands and fathers. They're no good, but I'll devote a few lines for them here. After all, I saw them also playing roles in my 42-year craft. Many of them are mere "sperm" donors. All they do is just impregnate their wives and go on their merry ways as if there's nothing to care in the world. There was one time when a diabetic mother was huffing and puffing while trying to let out a 6.7-pound baby girl. The only one who accompanied her was a little girl barely 10 years old. I later found out the child was the woman's eldest in a brood of six, with the baby as the seventh. "And where is your father?" I asked her in the dialect. "He's with our neighbors drinking tuba and playing cards." Oh, the good-for-nothing fellow!

Sure, there are the guys who run away upon knocking down their girlfriends. The poor, cowardly "deserters." I don't mean they have to marry their sweethearts as marriage is not a solution to an unwanted pregnancy, but at least they should learn to face the consequences of their actions. In here, the prominent actors I see are the grandparents. It is in such situations where I see cold-hearted grandfathers suddenly turn mellow upon seeing their apo; and nagging wives suddenly become doting lolas to new grandchildren. And yet, a few moments back, they were cursing their poor daughter's fate. The next moment, each of them swears the baby has inherited their looks, taking turns impatiently to hold their grandchild. Also, it is almost always during this time where they realize that they have a daughter with whom they had been remiss in providing guidance and understanding-though they may never openly admit this. Hatred melts into compassion, and before the mother is discharged from the maternity house, the parents have sworn to take care of the baby, send the daughter back to school and help her move on with her life.

Forty-two years in the midwifery service, and still counting, until late next year when I turn 65 and finally retire from government service. I am sure that with almost one more year to go, more mothers, fathers and grannies will give me reasons to laugh and ponder at the wonder that is called parenthood. What a wonderful thing to be a part of the process of procreation!

Obituaries and reasons

Obituaries and reasons


Updated 10:14pm (Mla time) Jan 08, 2005
By Flor Lacanilao
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A13 of the January 9, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


AFTER RETIRING six years ago, I have observed some things I hardly noticed before.

Let me start with obituaries. Reading them has become a daily habit. When I come across a death notice on somebody who died at the age of 50 or 60, I am thankful to be healthy at 70 and, mind you, with my hair still black. Obituaries of people who die at the age of 80 or 90 make me wish I would live as long.

My interest in obituaries led me to conduct a "survey" of the death notices published in the Inquirer from March to December last year. The survey covered 1,075 death notices, 620 of which were for men and 455, for women. Though not based on random sampling, the "survey" came up with some interesting findings. In 230, or 21 percent, of the obituaries, the profession of the deceased was shown. Nuns had the longest lifespan, averaging 85 years. The priests came next with an average of 80 years, followed by the doctors with 75 years, the military officers with 73, lawyers with 72 and engineers with 70.

On the average, men died much younger than women -- 71 against 78 years old. Doctors, who are supposed to have studied the human body, die younger than priests by an average of five years. The 67 doctors in the obituaries even included women who, on the average, live longer than men.

Our obituaries, unlike in other countries, greatly vary in size, suggesting social status (117 were large: one-fourth page and bigger; and 319 were small: less than one-fourth). Seventy-five was the average age of the dead in the large obituaries; 72 in the small ones.

Many of those who announce the death anniversaries of their loved ones request readers to pray for the eternal repose of the souls of the departed, never mind if they have been dead for years. I wonder how many readers heed their call for prayers. And I doubt if one could appeal the fate of a soul denied of eternal rest on Judgment Day.

From obituaries, let me go to wedding anniversaries. Many couples renew their wedding vows. Does this mean their marriage or relationship has weakened through the years that it has to be renewed? Or does this mean that they need a fresh start (which is no longer possible), or a reminder that they are still married? Either way, the "renewal" of wedding vows could be interpreted to mean that a marriage has failed or is failing.

Recently, I was at the golden wedding anniversary of a cousin, who was celebrating the event with his wife largely in thanksgiving. There was no renewal of wedding vows. He explained that wedding vows are unlike a driver's license, which has to be renewed because it expires. But the celebrants gave each other a golden ring in celebration of the 50 years (perhaps the old rings were not made of gold and had faded) they've been together as husband and wife. No words were spoken in the exchange of the rings because everyone already knew what it meant.

I have had more observations when I go to our farm in Quezon province. For instance, a big arch shows the name of a town as you enter it. On leaving that town, you see another big arch but without the next town's name. Instead, written on it are the big letters "Salamat Po." While frequent travelers take such signs for granted, they mislead tourists and puzzle visitors who expect to see the name of the next town. Thus, tourists conclude that a town is between two municipalities of the same name: Salamat Po.

My 9-year-old granddaughter was telling me what she just learned in school. Her teacher had told them that old tires dropped into the sea could serve as fish shelter. The idea must have come from a government program-introduced some 20 years ago -- promoting the use of old tires to build artificial fish habitats. But artificial habitats or reefs are also effective fish-aggregating devices popular among American anglers to improve their catch. In the Philippines, this can lead to overfishing.

Copying from developed countries without careful study may do more harm than good. Japan and the United States can strictly enforce fishery laws, but the Philippines cannot. Hence, our use of old tires as artificial habitats only serves as a fish-attracting device, which leads to further depletion of our already overfished coastal areas. I hope such wrong or obsolete ideas and concepts are not taught in children's textbooks.

We are probably the only country where both the metric and English systems of measure are used. Floor area is expressed in meters, tiles in centimeters. But textile is measured in yards, and lumber is sold in feet and inches. Meat and fruits are weighed in kilograms and grams, but babies' weight is commonly given in pounds and ounces. Water companies sell in cubic meters, but water tanks in subdivisions are marked in gallons. Children, even from exclusive schools speak of feet and inches more than meters and centimeters. So do government leaders and media people. We have been so influenced by Americans. Is it not that by law the Philippines has adopted the metric system just like most other countries? This is the reason companies are required to label locally made goods in kilograms, grams, liters, milliliters, etc. As usual, some refuse to comply. And a mix of metric and English units is seen in advertisements. As the dean of the University of the Philippines College of Law noted of traffic violations in the Philippines, "Laws are mere suggestions, compliance optional, punishment negotiable."

I think we should have valid reasons for doing things, if we are to move forward. Common practice and tradition are reasons hardly good enough to justify our actions.

Flor Lacanilao, 70, is a retired professor of Marine Science from the University of the Philippines, Diliman.

Me, male 'Mama'

Me, male 'Mama'


Updated 02:04am (Mla time) Jan 06, 2005
By Dante C. Argaoza
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the January 6, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


RAISING children is not easy. It can be most challenging work--especially for a single male, more so, when the children are not his.

Nevertheless, I accepted the challenge of motherhood early in life, and I can say truly in my heart that raising children can be very fulfilling indeed.

I have five children. They love me as they would have loved their own mother in much the same way that I love them like my own dear children. Our love for one another is one that is obviously very mutual.

Needless to say, I am playing a dual role--that of a father and a mother, and I am dead sure I love every minute of it. I cannot describe or explain the pleasure of this very rewarding experience.

They came into my life as very young kids. And I took care of them. Today, I still send three of them to school; the first two have finished college and are now working abroad.

Eva was entrusted to me by a relative. He was then in the military service, assigned to Mindanao. He had found a baby girl all by herself, in a war zone, crying her heart out to no one. Maybe, her parents had died in a crossfire, he thought. After diligent efforts to find her relatives failed, he decided to take her home. But being a family man himself with several children, he could not afford to have one more mouth to feed. I was at first hesitant because of my job, but the "maternal" instinct in me prevailed and I accepted her, rearing her like my real daughter. I named her Eva.

Not long after, another relative found an abandoned baby girl. He also left the baby with me--albeit on a temporary arrangement--while he searched for her parents and relatives. When he couldn't find them, he decided to turn over the baby to the local social welfare office. But the little girl would have none of it; she had found a playmate in Eva and was bent on staying with us. I had her baptized Maria Corazon.

Thus began my full-time parenting. I sent both of them to school, took care of them like a real "mother" should. I saw them grow up into two young ladies. And they showered me with the respect and love due a real mother.

Eva took up Psychology and is now happily based in the United States with a good job. Maria Corazon finished Nursing and, soon after, left for Canada where she now works. How I miss both of them. Now I only have nostalgic memories of them when they were babies.

The other three are actually my brother's children. He passed away when they were very young; and I took it upon myself to take them into my parental care. Marion King, called "Bunsoy" for short, is now 15 and in his junior year in high school. He is still not certain what to take up in college, although he talks of college life quite often nowadays. A very fine young boy--tall and handsome--he reads a lot on mythology, science and the like. We also talk about many topics. We even discuss Humanities, the subject I have been teaching in college for many years.

Mabel Dantean is 14 and is getting to be a very pretty young girl. She towers over other girls of her age. She likes to play the flute and other musical instruments, but I wish she'd learn how to sing. "Then, send me to a voice school," she had dared me, and come summer, I am just about to do that. Mark Kenneth, fondly called "Bolong," is only 12 and is just into dreams, just dreams, for now.

I really did not know how Maria Corazon and Eva turned from girls to women. Perhaps, they just kept it to themselves. It was different with Mabel who had a terrible stomachache when she had her first monthly period. I was at a loss what to do. I thought of rushing her to a hospital, except that a female relation told me to take it easy: it was just dysmenorrhea, which is quite very common among females, and a tablet of Midol would solve the "mess." So, that was it, some lesson for a male mother.

Eva, Maria Corazon, Bunsoy, Mabel and Bolong. They are the "loves "of my life. They have been my inspiration. They are the ones who have kept me--and still keeps me--going.

There certainly had been many trials, but on the whole, there had been more fulfilling moments. Sometimes, the weather is very hot and I don't feel like going to work, but I have to--to finance our needs and the needs are growing as the years fly.

There were instances when it would be raining hard and I'd find out that I do not have an umbrella and the streets are flooded, and it is still a long, long way from work in Manila to home in Bulacan. But I would go, eager to reach home because my "babies" are there and they are looking forward to my coming home. My meal would be ready and they would have stories to tell about school and their friends.

Many times I had to take them to the doctors for their regular, well-baby check up. There were those times when they had to be confined and I had to keep watch and start worrying where to get the money to finance their hospitalization. But God has always been very good. I have a good job; and I have very supportive siblings--one is in America and she has a wonderful job and knowing my predicament, she would come to the rescue when needed. God bless her soul.

I had also experienced the boundless joy of pinning on them medals of honor, (nightly, I take time out to help them with their homework) attending parent-teachers associations, getting their cards, and preparing their daily "baon" (meals). I likewise have gone through wonderful times bringing them to the zoo, to the mall, to the church for their first communion, to art exhibits, even to concerts, to just about anywhere that would add to the education they are getting in school. I cannot remember the many birthday parties they had celebrated year after year after year. Since I am a camera buff, I captured all those moments with glee in my camera, and it is such a beautiful experience reliving those great moments going through the photographs.

I was the one who first taught them the alphabets and numbers, how to read and write. I brought them to school on their first day of classes. Today, I still tell them stories about life. I have encouraged them to study well, offering as models my first two "babies" who have finished their studies and now have good jobs.

Bunsoy, Mabel and Bolong miss their two "ates" as terribly as I do. They believe they are real siblings because I made them think so. I have never seen them jealous of one another.

Given the chance to go through life again, I would not hesitate living the kind of life I am living now, with five wonderful children raised as my own, forever my loves and my life.

Dante C. Argañoza, 60, is a college professor and cultural worker.