Posts tagged Pregnancy
Azelie Marie's Grand Entrance

This is a photo of Azelie born last August 22. In the unlikeliest of places: the guest bathroom in our apartment.

I desired for a birth just like Noah’s: planned and painless in the hospital birthing room. I prayed for that. And in a style true to His nature, God gave me the exact opposite. 

I woke up at 4 am, unable to sleep due to the contractions. They were tolerable, even though they were spaced 10 minutes apart, so I decided to wait it out. After half an hour, I found myself going to the bathroom more and even saw my mucus plug in the toilet. I woke Raffy up to tell him about it but still, no urgency from us to go to the hospital. The main reason was that no one would look after Noah — it was just the three of us in our apartment. 

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The Truth Behind The Bump

I was in my bed, crying out of frustration. It was almost 9 p.m. and my husband wasn't home yet and I hadn't had dinner yet and I had not thrown out the trash yet. I wanted to but I couldn't. Pregnancy. There's just something about the first trimester that makes you helpless and weak and - dare I say it? - useless. 

It was a bleak time, a bad time, an unforgiving time... for me.

I didn't want any of it. I didn't want go through it anymore, the underbelly of the bump.

My days became nights. Most mornings were lost since I would wake up close to noon. My husband would kiss me goodbye as he would leave for work and I would only faintly remember that. I stood up to eat and then went back to lying down again. Loneliness loomed. I had no more time to spend as sleep became my ally. Closing my eyes seemed like the best solution to the endless nausea and fatigue and loss of appetite. Perhaps it would all go away? When it always seemed like night, they did...

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Surprise, Surprise!

This is a story of God's goodness. 

No one had any idea. While I was writing Part 2 of my miscarriage experience, I was also waiting for the results of my pregnancy test. What an afternoon that was for me - I felt like I was split in half. There I was recalling the painful details of the miscarriage and at the same time, being enveloped by anxiety and wonder. No one had any idea. Not even my husband.

It was exactly a month after the surgical procedure. I had an inkling that we had conceived again. But, after what we went through, I didn't want to bank on my womanly intuition just yet...

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Part 2: We Were Made For Loving You

The silence on this subject is quite overwhelming. I think that's due in part to the mothers who are afraid, guilty, embarrassed, and angry - I don't blame that for that. But I believe that it's time to paint a complete picture of what motherhood is. It's not always rainbows and giggles and cuddles. There's also pain and loss and death. When we acknowledge this truth, then healing will be possible. And then we can start trying again so that we can get to the rainbows and giggles and cuddles part with a fuller and more hopeful heart.

Here's to all those who have lost the ones we have never met. May they know that in the light of forever, they will always be found. 


A miscarriage never entered my mind. Throughout the whole pregnancy, I never allowed it to. I was planning surprise reveals, blog posts, photos, nursery rooms, names. Instead we got a surgery, hospital bills, and medicine prescriptions. To shift from one end of the spectrum to another is a rude awakening (emphasis on the rude part); we went from embracing life to duelling death. Before the finality of it all dawned on us, we tried to negotiate, trade, and exchange, but it said, 'No, no, no, no.' So we screamed at it and said, 'No, no, no, no,' too. We all know who had the upper hand... 

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We Were Made For Loving You


I wrote this three weeks ago but hesitated to post it because of shame. But I told myself that if I wanted to live a life of authenticity - and transmit that through the blog - I had to publish it. I didn't want to put up a front and cast a shadow of perfection. There is beauty in struggle. There is warmth in honesty. There is appreciation in realness. Besides, who wants to read about perfection anyway?


There is no other heartbreak like this. I lie down on my back and hear the doctor say, 'There's the baby.' I smile with relief and look at my husband as he looks at the screen, proud and all. I stare at my baby floating in his or her own grainy gray world and think about how our lives are going to change, drastically and dramatically. Then the doctor interrupts my thoughts and adds, 'But there's no heartbeat.' I stay quiet, my husband stays quiet. 'It's probably embryonic demise,' the man in the white coat says. Demise? Demise? Doesn't that mean...? I don't ask him anything; I don't need him to confirm my thoughts. I dress myself and my husband says to me, 'Doesn't demise mean...?' I look up at him and say nothing...

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