‘Kabalo ka Mama, ganahan ko nga wala ka diri sa balay.’

Some mothers hearing this would have instant heart attack. I do not cower. Not from threats of a midget. I gave Una my 100-mile stare and she squirmed in her seat.

Homework is a major stressor – that, I discover recently. I am willing to pay the exorbitant price of education because I do not want to yell and threaten the ABCs and 123s into my child’s rather thick skull.

And so I brought out the belt and because I do not have that much faith in my daughter’s learning curve, I forced her to review last week’s lesson. Of course, I was met with protests and counter-threats and bargains and tears – very messy business, this learning is. I was defeated when we got to the actual assignment. I was sure that she won’t be able to answer the items correctly and I was wrong.

‘This is an AXE and the beginning letter is…’ She checked out letter A and proceeded to tick out the right letters for the rest of the pictures, all in less than 5 minutes.

I will learn some day, I know.

We walked the 50 or so meters to Una’s school yesterday. I was nervous for her.

The teachers greeted us and I was amazed to see what followed:

Teacher1: I am teacher Annie and you are…?

Una (shook the hand offered her): Una Alesandra Santos.

Teacher1: Hi Una.

Una: Hello

Teacher1: You say bye to Mom and Dad.

Una: Bye Mama, Papa

And we were dismissed just like that.

Jude skipped work for Una’s first day in school and Max’s first visit to the doc. I giggled when we were out of the school premise and he commented: She is brave, ain’t she?

Me: Yeah. Am scared for her…

and we let the silence take over. Our thoughts run parallel to each other.

Getting ready is part of the fun of going to school!

The doctor at the sonogram repeatedly said her good luck on my eventual delivery via caesarean section. A forced smile was all I could give her as tears of frustration were trying to surface from my crumbling mask of calm. I bu-hu-hoed the moment I stepped out of the diagnostic area.

Monday morning – I was prepared for the doc’s final say on the operation and I have come to terms with my remaining options – at least, I get to pick the date and I can plan my workload around my schedule. Bah! Babies come to the world in their own terms – why this simple fact often escapes me? The doctor told me that we have to do it today, yes at 1 that very afternoon. “You are already dilated and the baby might kick the bag of water and…” she explained.

I consoled myself with the thought that I won’t have to strain in the delivery room. And the nice surrealistic progression of events that I orchestrated in my head went like this: I lie down on a bed of roses and patiently wait for the doctor to fish out the baby. Then I will snuggle with my new bundle of surprises, er… joy while they stitch me up and then I am back to my old self and I juggle Earth and Mercury in one hand.

A molten lead settled in my gut when I was greeted by the team of doctors who will cut me up – the anaesthesiologist, 4 other people in scrubs, a flurry of nurses and my OB-gyne. Gee, I didn’t know it would require so much resource. The last thing that I could recall was something cold being applied on my back.

I woke up in the recovery room when my doctor tightened by binder. I was grateful for it although I cannot open my mouth at that moment. I went back to sleep after that.

I won’t get into the other details but Internet, I feel that it is my duty to inform you of the PAIN that comes after the surgery. Like any other individual, I researched medical literature and blogs for accounts of delivery via CS and none, not one, did warn or slightly mentioned of the ordeal that is called recovery.

The first 3 days after the surgery is HELL and after that, it’s piquant versions of inferno.

A friend asked if I pushed through with the ligation and I said NO and yes, it’s very well possible that I will be pregnant again in 2009. Help me, god.