Kai
February 1, 2026, Sunday. My heart was pounding so fast while looking at the "pee stick" I held in my hands. Two lines. Two FREAKING lines. Finally.
It has been five years since I last felt alive. The last time I felt that my life had a meaning and purpose. I still cannot believe I got this again. Awe, gratitude, excitement - it's all of my 40 birthdays and Christmases and other important events combined.
We kept this a secret, well, not really - as I got around telling almost everyone in the office of my "gift". Part of me was probably too proud to say that I am blessed with a new life inside of me, or maybe because I want to tell people that while I am not expecting to be treated differently, it's because I am half-expecting their understanding of what I am going through, especially if I am not able to join activities that involves physical exhaustion.
Then came the cold and bouts of coughing. I tried my hardest and damnedest to show up to work despite my morning/evening/early morning sickness, dizziness, and all-time drowsiness that came with this "gift". Checked with the doc and was advised to stay at home and rest - no questions asked. So, rest at home I did while I silently cried because I felt useless, sleeping, the lack of support I felt, because I still have to be on my feet at times.
Even while resting, spotting and bleeding were the biggest of my worries. I prayed, please, please let me have this baby. Mind you, I had two novenas going on at the same time. Cannot be too sure, right? If one messenger cannot take my message or is busy with another request, the other can take mine.
March 13, Friday. A month after I took my first sonogram. I was groggy with the progesterone I was advised to take, and while I was being prodded to see how this "gift" is progressing, the sonologist asked a few probing ('scuse the pun) questions, such as "Have you had your first sonogram?", "Did they see a sac?", then slipped a "wala kasi akong makitang embryo (I cannot seem to find an embryo)" - to which my ears picked up and dreaded to hear. My brain, while clouded with the meds, processed this quite quickly (knowing how slow I react to things, if you know me all too well).
NO EMBRYO. No fucking way.
I got up from the bed where I was tested and slowly walked out of the room, trying to keep my tears at bay. I planned on telling Kevin (my baby daddy) when we got home, as the ride back was quite short, but my broken heart cannot take it anymore. I cried, wailing, repeating what I heard from the sonologist. I immediately told my mom and sister about it, and cried myself to sleep day and night.
The day after, my doctor confirmed what I about 80% know.
We lost our "gift".
I told myself I would try not to cry anymore because I just wanted to be technical during my OB appointment, just so my doctor and I could talk about our next steps, timelines, and procedures. I failed miserably. I broke down in front of my doctor.
I have somewhat accepted that my baby is gone. I told the few friends who knew about it, and I know that I chose my circle right. I was comforted by words and sometimes, just silence, and the "I cannot find the right words to comfort you, but please know that I am so sorry you are going through this. I am here if you need someone to talk to."
As someone who is still grieving, and if you're still around reading this part, I'd let you in on a secret - I made a list of things you're not supposed to say that you think may be comforting (but actually are not). While everyone grieves differently and takes words in different meanings, for me, this list sums up the things that added insult to injury. Here goes:
"Okay lang yan, si ganito nga nakunan din...nakailang kunan bago nagkaanak.." (well, good for them, I guess, and I'm happy for them if that's the case. As for me? Who knows if this is the second and last shot at this, huh? What do we say then??)
"Ako nga, mag-isa lang nung nangyari sa 'kin yan...alam ko na yan kasi nangyari na rin sa kin yan..." (again, well, good for you. I never thought of this as a contest of whoever's tougher, though?)
"Eh kesa naman matagal na saka nangyari sayo yan, maigi na ngayon pa lang, nawala na..." (I have no words for this.)
"Mabuti na ganyan, kesa naman naipanganak mo nga, tapos, abnormal?" (What?! How do you know as if you're too sure about it?"
"Wag ka na umiyak, kailangan mo tapangan yan para makalaban ka ulit..." (It has been quite a long while since it has been made common knowledge that crying is not an indication of weakness. I will cry if I want to, whenever I want to. It. Fucking. Hurts.)
"Kailangan mong tanggapin..." (Who the fuck said I am not in denial of this? I cry because again, see #5.)
"Dapat kasi hindi mo muna pinagsabi...nauudlot daw kasi pag ganon..." (My body, my baby, my rules.)
So there.
I only had two objectives in writing this post after years of not writing. The list, and a farewell to Kai, our baby.
My brain is a bit clearer nowadays. My heart still longs for Kai, with the lost hope and love, and I find myself crying every time my mind wanders to that day when our loss was confirmed.
Kai, I miss and love you so much. Mama will try to be strong and not cry anymore, only because I don't want you to see me sad. Please find your way back home to us again.