this is inspired by selvo’s touching post.
eight years ago today, our firstborn was a stillbirth. it was the most painful experience i have ever encountered in my life. more painful because i attribute the tragedy to my wrong decision.
two months after we got married in november 1998, wifey had two lines. as short as the waiting time before the baby was conceived, it was a D & C going on the third month.
when she conceived the second time, we have paul vincent as a name if its a boy (from the lolo’s of both sides–fulgencio and vicente) or berna isabelle if its a girl (from the lola’s–bernardita and isabel).
the motions we went all through them–regular check-ups, walks, petition at the monastery for safe pregnancy, lab work-ups, etc.
her ob-gyne went for induced labor but it turned out, like in mikee cojuangco’s case, she’s good under C-section. the transfer to another hospital proved a little, but critically, too late.
he went six feet under with my name in his grave marker.
a golfer missing his putt in the last hole in a championship game by an inch, a haggard traveler a second too late for his connecting flight out of a war zone, a rookie cager splitting charities–different scenarios, practically the same sense of loss.
while wifey had her way of coping–she relates the ordeal with detail to anybody who cares to listen–i would
