To my Fellow Mothers

I hope this reaches you in one way or another. I hope that this will never be too late. For our struggle is a daily thing. Some just get by faster than others, but I know that slowly we’ll get there…

Yesterday was particularly hard. It’s difficult to celebrate when you are reminded by the loss. I know the dull aching pain that creeps up on you, consuming your whole being. The pain that gives you the sudden migraines and body ache, enough to have an excuse to sleep the day off. It takes a great deal of strength and self control to hold back tears, especially when you see new Moms holding their tiny babies, celebrating with their own families.

I know because I am like you. I lost my little one, too, last year and sometimes, it still feels like it just happened yesterday.

But you know what? We’ll get by. Trust me, we will. We just need to give ourselves time to grieve and heal. Recovery is not a sprint, it’s a marathon. And every runner has a different running style, pace, and endurance.

Whenever I feel so low, I remind myself that I am a Mother to an Angel. And that one day, I’ll be able to hold his tiny little fists, hug him, and kiss him in heaven.. or wherever the afterlife is. And that gives me the strength that I need to make it through the day.

To my Fellow Mothers, I pray for our collective strength, resilience, and faith. Happy Mothers’ Day!

Colorburst 2018

My first official run for the year happened on an Easter Sunday.  Quite symbolic when you think about it because this has been my resurrection from my almost-a-decade-running-hiatus!

My friend Mils convinced me to join because (1) his brother is one of the organizers and (2) it would be good practice for my upcoming 10KM run for Nat Geo. This is a yearly event organized by St. Paul the Apostle Parish where Mils’ brother is an active member.

With only 2 hours of sleep and my period arriving days earlier, I headed over to QC to go and finish my 5KM run. When you commit to run for a church and on an Easter, you set aside all excuses you can think of and just soldier on.

It turned out to be a good thing because I had a lot of fun throughout the race. Aside from the obligatory colored powder showers, there were also mini obstacles along the way — giant rolling balls, human balloons out to trap you — and a large tub filled with colorful balls at the finish line! Not to mention the energetic warm up from the organizers, which felt more like a Zumba routine actually. Haha!


It really relaxes me more when I run outdoors than when I do treadmills because you have fresher air to breathe and interesting sights to drown into. The only challenge that I encountered are the uphills. It’s such a pain on the knees and ankles and it also made my pace slower than usual. Sometimes, I would also get too drowned into my sightseeing that I would forget that I’m in an actual race.

Nevertheless, I was able to finish with flying colors (yes, please let me use the phrase) without walking. I always tag this as an achievement because even though my pace is slower than most, it makes my endurance better. This would help me in my marathon target in the future as long as I keep a regular running schedule.

It was heartwarming seeing families running together as a team during the event. I even saw a dog being carried towards the finish line. I just hope that the colored powders are non-toxic to animals.


The morning ended with a McDonald’s breakfast and a promise between friends to join this yearly until we have kids of our own to run with.


Birth of An Angel

A few days back, I was asking myself what date to keep to remember Ezra by. See, when a mother suffers a miscarriage, we tend to hold on to every little memory that we have of the baby that we haven’t physically held. That includes the dates – the day you found out you were pregnant, the expected delivery date,  the day of the first sonogram, the day you heard a certain song on the radio that connected you, and the day that you lost your baby.

I told Cris about this because it was really bothering me and he came up with an idea: What if we commemorate the miscarriage and treat it as Ezra’s birthday? If we look at it, we did not really lose him. That was the day he became our angel… 

It was a good idea at that time and I was pacified. I loved it! We will go to church first thing in the morning, light a candle for Ezra, and say a little prayer. We will then buy him a cake and sing him a Happy Birthday.

But it turned out that it was a much bitter pill to swallow. The night before the 10th, I was crying myself to sleep. I woke up with swollen eyes, a heavy head, and a way heavier heart. The more I thought about our plans, the sillier they seemed. I was beginning to think of backing out and just crawling back to my bed and just stay there for the rest of the day.

But something clicked. It’s already been a year and I still feel the pain today as if it was still fresh. Then for some reason I got reminded of  a quote from the book Tuesdays with Morrie:

You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, “All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment.”

Ezra Prayer

Maybe, the pain and sadness is not really meant to go away. You never really get over a loved one’s death. The feeling just varies in magnitude; some days are just harder than the others. They do come in waves, with their crest and troughs.

But you need to be able to recognize it and acknowledge it so you can compartmentalize. There’s no way around it but through it.

Author John Green agrees with this, too: Pain demands to be felt. 

And so Dear Ezra, let Mama and Papa greet you a Happy Birthday. You still make me sad, but you’re my favorite pain that I will never want to let go.

Ezra Cake