Monday, January 21, 2013

Keep the faith.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had this fear of losing my parents. It probably stemmed from watching too many crime shows on TV, where the parents would get killed and the children are orphaned. I sometimes would picture frightening scenarios in my head. Burglars in the house, my mom getting shot. Or my dad getting into an accident. Stuff like that. Weird, I know.

This fear has grown with me, and has become a permanent part of my system. It’s probably what clinical studies would call Adult Separation Anxiety Disorder, where one has this uncontrollable, inexplicable fear of losing a significant person in his life.

I am scared to death of losing my family.

When I found out that my Dad was diagnosed with acute leukemia, I think my heart stopped beating and a voice in my head was whispering, “He’s going to die.” Mom emailed me the news. I was devastated. I took an emergency leave the next day, cancelling all guestings on my show last minute. I asked my husband to skip work and stay home with me. I cried all night, and my head was swimming with fear, questions, sadness. I kept asking my husband, “Is my Dad going to die?” His constant answer was, “No. He’s not. Stay in the light.”

I guess it’s easy for other people, other members of the family, to “stay in the light” and keep positive. I’m probably over-reacting or thinking too far ahead, but I can’t help it. It’s this childhood fear of mine that has stayed with me until now, refusing to let go.

When I received the news, I couldn’t talk. I was afraid of telling my husband, of saying it out loud, because I thought if I did then it would become real. But now I’m slowly realizing that talking about it is actually a way of becoming stronger than my fear, accepting this trial and believing that God is in full control. That’s why I decided to write about it, to release all the negative thoughts and unnecessary worries, and to ask help from each person who reads this to pray for my Dad’s healing and recovery. They say there are many similar cases here in the Philippines, and many of these cancer patients have recovered and continue to live normal, healthy lives. I need to teach myself to believe that just like them, my Dad will also get better. I need to slowly overcome this fear. I have to have faith.

My Dad is starting chemotherapy tomorrow. He’ll be confined in an isolated, sterilized room for a month there in MD Anderson in Houston, Texas. I pray with all my might that God will give him the strength and endurance to see him through each day of his treatment. And I pray that after all this, my Daddy will be okay, and will come back home to us in great condition, with his usual smile, saying “whattaheck” and giving work instructions to my Mom and siblings. God is good.

Thank you for praying for my Dad, for my family, and for me as well. That I may stay in the light, and keep the faith.  

Monday, January 14, 2013

9 months!

My little girl turns 9 months today. 9 months. That's how long I carried her in my tummy. Wow. I have to say it again and again in my head just to convince myself that it’s real. The months just flew by so fast. The baby that used to fit so comfortably in her daddy’s palms is now a chubby little girl who weighs about 23 pounds and wears toddler clothes. She can now sit up, crawl, and walk with support. She can say the words “mama,” “car,” “daddy” and just the other day she learned how to high-five. It’s really amazing to witness all the changes and developments, all the things she experiences and accomplishes. 

New Year's Eve. Her very first.

Her most recent photo. Rockin' her big girl dress.

Time won't slow down for anyone. Pretty soon she'll be running around, meeting new friends, going to school. And she'll want to do things on her own. But now, while I still can, I intend to enjoy every single bit of her baby-hood. Mum's not ready to close that chapter just yet, and I don't think I'll ever be ready.

Happy 9 months, my darling! You make mum and dad so very happy. We love you!