Baby Cindy Elaine Magallanes: A Miracle, A Gift, A Test of Resilience and an Eye Opener (An update after two years)

"Seeing her in the ICU, still with dextrose, antibiotics and oxygen I cannot help but cry…How could this tiny life which was in my womb for nine months endure so much pain early in her life? I followed everything, I went to my check up religiously, drank my vitamins, milk, did my exercises but still here she is, fighting to live? Why?"

(Reading this entry I made after I gave birth still leaves me teary-eyed. I have to wonder, now that it is Holy Week what lessons have I learned from all of these? Below is my original entry two years ago, with edited portions)

 

One foot is set on the ground, the other on the grave. This was what my mother used to tell me about childbirth. I never realized how serious it was until I myself gave birth to my first born.

On the fateful day of June 1, 2009, I thought that it was just an ordinary day. I went about my usual chores. By 9am, I felt pain in my lower abdomen and back. I dismissed it since I have a high tolerance for pain.

It did not end there. Days prior to June 1, I was unusually thirsty and would have irregular contractions. But I told myself it could not be labor pangs since my due date is not until June 21. But I was wondering why I have great amounts of discharges and my enema (manas) already disappeared!

Back to June 1. I told myself I just needed to rest. So I advised my office that I would be absent for the day (my leave was effective on june 7). I called my mother to tell her about the situation so she advised me to go to the hospital at around 1pm. I told her I will monitor the situation first before I make my trip to my obstetrician-gynecologist.

Around 3pm, the contractions were becoming more intense but I still did not consider it as labor pain. So I went to my neighbor’s house to ask for advise on what to do. Telling her about my pain (in tears) she changed her clothes and accompanied me to the hospital.

IN THE HOSPITAL

Waiting for the doctor to arrive, I was already in intense pain but I still told myself to remain calm. I was still cracking jokes like "Gusto ko sa susunod kambal pa!" just to ease the tension. Finally the doctor arrived. Inside her office she checked my cervix if it was dilated. Then the horror of all horrors happened! With obvious worry on her face, she told me that my cervix was already dilated at 2cm and my baby was still in breech position!

“Virginia, kelangan na natin magsagawa nang emergency cesarean operation. Nahawakan ko na yong paa nang anak mo. Delikado na kung maghihintay pa tayo”

OMG! Even Ate Ana was in shock! Then I was rushed to the emergency room to be prepared for the operation. This was around 5:30 in the afternoon.

I did not have any money with me, only 8k which I withdrew a day earlier for the daily budget in the house. But my OBGYNE agreed to be my guarantor because I needed to pay 20k for the room and the operating room.

I called my mother and my whole family was shocked! She was so worried she almost slipped in the bathroom. She had to rush to the mall to book the earliest possible flight to Manila.

Meanwhile, I was rushed to the operating room.

IN THE OPERATING ROOM

The anaesthestologist approached me while the nurses prepared me for the CS operation. Dra. Yao explained the procedure and what after effects to expect after the operation was done. She tried to calm my nerves knowing that I had no relatives with me to support me emotionally.

Inside the operating room, I was made to curl on my side like a furball so that they could administer the anaesthesia on my spine. It was only after the operation that I saw how long the needle was!

The effects of the anaesthesia quickly spread through 3/4th of my body. I was conscious the whole time the operation was being done. A cloth was used to cover my abdomen so I could not see my body being spliced open by the doctors. I was talkative the whole time.

BABY CINDY IN TROUBLE!

Finally, I heard a faint cry. I was excited to see my baby! However, I saw the pediatrician ran to the back of the operating room since baby Cindy no longer cried! My mind cried “What the hell was going on? What was wrong with my baby?” while the doctors were stitching my abdomen… Later the pedia confessed that she had to do a mouth to mouth rescuscitation on Cindy to revive her!

I asked for my baby but the kind anaesthestologist told me not to worry. They even photographed her using my cousin’s phone (That time they removed her oxygen so that I will not be depressed)

Nobody told me my baby was fighting for her life in the ICU until the next day!

IN THE RECOVERY ROOM

There are diferrent after effects of anaesthesia on different patients. Some throw up while others shake uncontrollably.

I shook for one hour, and I thought I was in North pole!

I asked for water since I was so thirsty, but I was told I cannot eat or drink anything for the next 72hours!

IN MY PRIVATE ROOM

I was moved to my room, complete with dextrose and everything. My relatives were already there (with eyes that told me something was wrong but nobody was talking) Ven tried to cheer me up, the rest tried to ensure me that my baby was ok. Then, groggy from all the commotion I fell asleep.

RAW INTEL

The next day I was anxious for my mother to arrive. I called her on the phone and when she answered I noticed that she was crying. I asked her what was wrong. She told me to remain strong and to accept fate, if baby Cindy was not meant for me. With a stabbing pain in my heart, I asked her what made her say those things.

She said that my cousin told her my baby weighed only 3.1lbs, was a blue baby and was in an incubator! Everybody (including my dad, sisters and the maid cried back home).

I said mom, I don’t think that is the case. I felt in my heart that the condition of my baby was not that serious! But I cried!!!

Finally my doctor arrived. I asked her if it was true about my baby being only 3.1lbs and in an incubator. She said “What?! Who told you that? Your baby weighs 3.3kilos which is 7.3lbs! No, she is not in an incubator but she is on oxygen since she has hard time breathing!”

Instead of getting angry at my cousin who gave us the wrong info, I laughed it off and said what a relief!

CINDY IN TROUBLE, AGAIN

My mother finally arrived and I told her she and the whole family was misinformed. She tried to hold back her tears but I pacified her saying that God will not abandon us.

Later that night the pedia visited us and told us that Cindy was under observation for possible pneumonia or immature lungs. She mentioned one more possibility in medical terms that I did not even understand.

My heart was crushed, and as much as I held back my tears it just fell like rain on my cheeks. My mind went blank for a while.

I felt so helpless, I can’t even see my daughter since I myself required medical attention. I wanted to help her. Kung pwede nga saluhin ko na lahat nang sakit niya ginawa ko na.

However, I live with the hope that like me, Cindy is a fighter and a survivor. She is a gift from God and I was optimistic that He will help my little angel…

My heart was in pain since I cannot contact my husband… I was asking questions like what is wrong with him? I told him to do this and that in preparation for my pregnancy and delivery but he did not listen..if only…he did not even know I already gave birth…where the heck was he?!

Perhaps he is still out in the pacific ocean, with no signal…pero hindi eh me satellite naman ah?

My mother was so upset with my in-laws she had to answer the phone and give her say on certain matters I would rather not write about. Emotions were high. Even I, who was so tolerant and patient lost my cool with my in-laws.

SEEING CINDY FOR THE FIRST TIME

The specialist told me that they decreased the oxygen from 2.5 to .5 being administered on Cindy and that I can start breastfeeding her.

Seeing her in the ICU, still with dextrose, antibiotics and oxygen I cannot help but cry…How could this tiny life which was in my womb for nine months endure so much pain early in her life? I followed everything, I went to my check up religiously, drank my vitamins, milk, did my exercises but still here she is, fighting to live? Why?

Even if my operation was still painful, I went down to the nursery every four hours or so to breastfeed to her. During that moment when I held her in my arms, my protectiveness overtook me. I promised myself that I will see to it that this situation will not happen again. Kahit magkabastusan na, wala na akong sasantuhin. My daughter comes first.

CRYING MY HEART OUT

My mother told me to remain strong and to refrain from crying dahil nakakabinat daw. So, when I thought she was soundly asleep, I cried my heart out only to find out that my mother was watching me…she approached me and tried to console me.

I poured out my heartaches, told her things she did not know existed in my heart, feelings of hatred and disappointment.

I TOLD HER CHANGES WILL START HAPPENING. I told her I know ma you taught me better but this time it just pissed me off so bad.

GOING OUT OF THE HOSPITAL

I was discharged first because the money we have was not enough to get baby Cindy out for the meantime. Even if the rain was pouring down and my wound still fresh, I went to the bank to withdraw the money my father loaned to me so I can get Cindy out.

Sometimes I wonder, will it always be my dad who rescues me from all these financial problems everytime my husband is out to sea? I wonder, what if my dad needs the money for some other emergency, where would I ran to if problems arise?

saturday, we were able to get Cindy out of the hospital. Visitors started to come to the house to see her. Almost everyday me bisita si Cindy…

ME, IN TROUBLE THIS TIME

I had the shock of my life when my operation opened up and yellow green discharges came oozing out. In short na infect yong sugat ko. Kala ko talaga bubuka yong tahi at lalabas yong mga lamang loob ko!!!Talk about trauma!

Buti na lang the girlfriends of my cousins, one is a nurse and the other had hospital work experience calmed me down. My mother, carrying Cindy was in shock! I was shaking from fear so I called my doctor so she gave me instructions and pacified me.

My two cousins went to the drugstore to buy gauze, tape, antibiotics, betadine and cream. My mother squeezed all the discharges out from the hole of the operation.

One of the gf’s cleaned the wound, put the betadine and the gauze. After which my mom made me wear my binder.

Now, I am recuperating and the wound is slowly closing up on its own. Di kasi pwede i re suture.

FINAL NOTE

My heartfelt thanks to my mother, who tirelessly helped me overcome this ordeal. She is my bestfriend, business manager, nurse, grammie to Cindy, adviser and my strong foundation. She endured the stress, the sleepless nights taking care of the big baby (me) and the small baby, looking for money, buying stuff for the house, cleaning me up and carrying me when I needed someone to assist me to get up from the bed. I love you ma, thank you so much….

To my nextdoor neighbor Nang Ana, whose persistence and strength helped me get through the operation while my mother was still in the province. Thank you for bringing me to the hospital, for taking care of my things, making the deposit and staying in the hospital as long as she could. Salamat gid nang…

To my housekeeper Pato who tirelessly went back and forth to get things from the house, prepare the food, go to the pharmacy and feed me when I was yet unable to do so on my own. Thanks gid To….

To my cousins and their girlfriends for buying things for the baby and taking care of me when my wound was infected. Thank you…

To the nurses at the ICU for taking good care of baby Cindy, salamat

To the doctors who saved our lives and took every measure to make sure we were in good shape, thank you so much, especially to Dra. Ferrer who revived baby Cindy…

To the well wishers, relatives and friends salamat! I love you guys!

MOst of all, to Almighty God whose love, patience and all-encompassing wisdom shielded me from despair, helplessness and helped baby Cindy when she needed Your help the most, my most humble gratitude to You my Father, my Creator, and my God…to You belong all the glory.

Siyanga pala, to the persons na duda kung bakit umabot sa 130k yong bill, 73k went to the doctors alone. 40k to the OB, 16k to the anesthesiologist, 17k to the pedia and specialist. The remainder went to medicines for me and the baby, operating room, ICU, private room, etc…

Heller, dalawa ang pasyente me and the baby. Emergency Cesarean?! Na ICU anak ko for a week!!! Bakit, kala ninyo mura lang ma cesarean at ma ICU? Heller, how dare you to even ask bakit umabot sa 130k? Eh kung maningil kaya ako nang lahat nang utang ninyo??? (end-of-quote)

I hope the person who wonders why I changed so much after this incident gets to read this and understand my reasons. I changed because of what you guys have shown me. I can forgive, but it is hard to forget. Nothing you say now can ever change my mind. It takes time to heal all wounds so please allow me to recuperate and I might just give you another chance. But not now. You have to earn and regain my trust, but until then only time can tell. This time di pwede na automatic lang na kalimutan ang lahat, ok?

SO going back to my question earlier, what have I learned?

1. Prepare for emergency situations. Do not rely on other people because in the end it is only God who can help you and yourself.

2. God sends angels to your aid and in my case, He touched other people to help me.

3. When things get worst, Trust GOD with all your heart.

4. That I became a stronger, wiser person.

5. I finally learned to say NO to all requests for financial help and realized dapat ko palang unahin sarili ko at needs nang family ko.

6. That people are tested during the worst of situations. I found out who my real friends are, and it will surprise you at times who will come to your aid when worst comes to worst. Sometimes it can be someone you mistook for a foe(",)

7. That I need not explain my actions to anybody. If they cannot understand it, it is their problem not mine.

8. That love is unconditional. If you want to help, you will do so no matter what.

9. Being a mother opened my eyes to a lot of things, most especially to putting the needs of my daughter first and above all else.

HAPPY HOLY WEEK EVERYONE!

5 things you should know before dating a journalist

By Tom Chambers • 12:36 p.m. May 10, 2007

So, you’ve been eyeing that smart, attractive journalist you’re lucky enough to know personally. You’re intrigued. Your journalist is smart, funny, confident. Visions of Clark Kent taking off the glasses and ripping off his clothes to reveal a perfectly toned body in blue spandex coming to save you run through your head.
Who can blame you? Journalism is a sexy occupation.

But journalists aren’t like the bimbos you usually pick up at the bar. Nor are they the assholes you ladies continually fall for. No, journalists are different beings (which is why you’re attracted to them in the first place), and you should realize — before jumping in — that this isn’t going to be a run-of-the-mill, boring, lame relationship you’re used to.

Here’s what you need to know:

1We can figure things out. Understand, we’re paid to dig deep, find the secrets and wade through bullshit. We can pick up on subtleties, so what you think you are hiding from us won’t be hidden for long. Sure, we’ll act surprised when you eventually tell us you starred in German porn as a freshman in college — but we already knew.

We don’t take shit from anyone, so don’t lie to us or give a load of bullshit. We spend all day separating fact from fiction, listening to PR cronies and dealing with slimy politicians. If you make us do the same with you, you’re just gonna piss us off. And don’t think we’ll be quiet about it. We’ll respond with the vengeance of an Op-Ed page railing against society’s injustices — and we’ll enjoy doing it.

Just tell us the truth. We can handle it.

2At some point, you will be a topic. Either through a feature story or an opinion column, something you do or say will be a subject. Get over it. Consider it a compliment, even if we’re arguing against you in print.

Think about it: we live our lives writing about life. If you’re a part of our life, we’re going to write about you, your thoughts or a subject springing from one of the two.

Don’t be upset when an argument against your adoration of Hillary Clinton turns up on page A4. We’re not directing the writing at you, personally — your ignorance was just our inspiration (there, doesn’t that make you feel better?).

3Yes, we think we’re smarter than you. In fact, we know it. Does that smack of ego? Absolutely — but that confidence is what makes your heart go pitter-patter.

We have a strong, working knowledge of how the world works. That makes us great in conversation. We can delve into the intricacies of zoning laws, local and national politics, where to find the good restaurants, what’s happening with pop culture, where the good bands are playing and more.

But there are pitfalls.

Guaranteed, when you say “towards,” we will automatically say “toward” — “towards” is not a word. We’re not trying to call you dumb (even though you don’t understand the English language), it’s habit. The same will happen when you say “anxious” when you mean “eager” and when you answer “good” when someone asks how you are doing.
We carry ourselves with a certain arrogant air. Embrace it (that’s what attracted you to us in the first place, after all). Don’t be surprised if we’re not impressed when you say, “I’m a writer, too.” No, you are not. The fact that you sit in a coffee shop wearing black while scribbling in your journal does not make you a writer. Nor does the fact that you “wrote some poems in high school” or that one day you want to pen “the great American novel.”

Look, we’re paid to write. Every day. What’s more, our writing matters. It changes opinions, affects decisions and connects people with the world around them.

We’re not spewing our angst or trying to fabricate an aura of creativity. We write about the real world — with real consequences.

Our words go through three or four cranky editors who make us rewrite before it’s printed a few hundred thousand times and distributed all over town. You don’t do that unless you’re confident, even egotistical.

You may have some great journal entries, poems and rudimentary short stories — good for you. Just don’t assume we’ll accept that as on par with what we do (unless you’re really hot, then hell, you’re a better writer than I).

4You’re not less important than the job — the job is just more important than anything else.

One doesn’t become a journalist to sit in an office from 9 to 5 Monday through Friday.
We do take our work home. If news is happening, we’ll drop whatever we’re doing — even if it’s with you — to cover it. We’re always looking for stories, so yes, we’ll stop on the street to write something down, interview a passer-by or gather information for a lead.

On that same note, don’t get upset if you call us on deadline suggesting some afternoon nookie and we say, “I’ve got to put the paper to bed first.” That could mean hours from now, but we’ll have plenty of time to put you in bed later.

5You won’t be disappointed. Journalists are intense, driven, passionate folk. We carry those same attributes into our relationships, making it an extremely fun ride well worth the price of admission. Our lives are never boring and each day is different.

If the pitfalls are scaring you away, consider this:

The fact that we’re inquisitive means we’ll listen to you. Even if it does seem like an interview, we’re paying attention to what you have to say (see rule No. 1).

We’ll write about you or your thoughts because you’re an important part of our life and we care about you (see rule No. 2).

Our brains are a great resource. Ever go on a date with an attractive person and wind up wishing you hadn’t because everything they say is just, well, stupid? That’s not going to happen here (see rule No. 3).

Yes, it may seem that we put the job ahead of you, but we’re driven. You’re not with that loser whose life is going nowhere and who’s completely content being mediocre (see rule No. 4).

There you go, five things you should know before dating a journalist. Feel free to add to the list, point out where I’ve missed something or leave a comment. And yes, ladies, I’m single (see rule No. 5).

YOUR CHILDREN

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.

--Kahlil Gibran

SWEET INTOXICATION

I have been gulping down alcohol for sometime now, and sometimes even beyond my limit. But in my years of relentless drinking spree I have never experienced sweet intoxication, so to speak.

What do I drink to this time? Promotion. Trying to forget. Celebration. Trying to remember. You name it and I have done it all. But sweet intoxication? Does it really exist?

Since I have encountered that term here in cyberspace I cannot get it out of my system. Yesterday I drank a bottle of white wine and still I was still struggling to sleep. The thoughts of sweet intoxication still linger in my head.

There are times that we get high by the mere challenges that life throws our way. Yet it is in doing what is wrong that really makes me feel right at times. Me, the rebel woman who wants to conquer the world yet would like to keep her sanity intact.

Sweet intoxication? Hmmm….let me try defining the word. Perhaps it is doing what is frowned upon by society yet gives you deep happiness and satisfaction. As my friend would say. it is society’s impositions that really brings us to an all time low.

I have always played by the rules and got hurt at times. sacrifices have been made because of “societal impositions”. I was thinking, maybe it is about that time in my life where I searched for my sweet intoxication. It does not make sense at the moment, but the thought of violating every rule possible really gives me excitement.

The question is, will I suffer from a lifelong hang-over or not?

I hate rules. I always did, and I would even define myself as amoral, apolitical but not asexual (hahahaha!). Kidding aside though, what if I just went outside my house  and took off all of my clothes just because I wanted to? Or violate traffic rules for a change? Or in the matters of the heart do not love at all?

Here I am blabbering away, but would the hang-over would make the risk worth the trouble or not?
CONSEQUENCES. Sound like the voice echoing from the underworld. Creepy right? But I post this straighforward categorical question:

Dare to be my sweet intoxication? Welcome to my world. Whirlwind yet fun. A roller coaster ride yet magical.  Filled with pain yet gratifying.

This is my life and I love it.  It is just now that I realized I am not looking for my own sweet intoxication, because I can be somebody elses.

I am intoxicated yet I am sweet. Like the wine, I taste better when I age hahahaha!

Got to go and grab myself my fave ice cold beer and hopefully find the meaning to sweet intoxication.