An answered prayer

Today, we celebrate Heaven’s sixth month. We welcomed our firstborn on 26 July. A year ago in January, we learnt that Aires was finally pregnant. We were ecstatic and anxious then. Today, we look back at an unforgettable year --- for all the up’s and down’s, for the long wait, for all the tears, and for all the smiles.

Heaven has brought us not only joy but also a realization, a reminder that God indeed answers your most fervent prayer --- at His own terms, by His will. Many times, Aires and I found ourselves asking God: “Why?” We did not know then His reasons but when we learnt to lift up everything to Him, He answered our prayer when we least expected it.

Today, we are simply thankful for our own bundle of joy and God’s work of miracle. We are halfway till Heaven hits his first year. Each day brings us closer to finally singing a Happy Birthday song. Till we get that chance, we keep saying our Thank You’s to God for our answered prayer.

The pursuit of happiness

Heaven cries when he has to fart. He cries when he is hungry. He cries when he has had enough of the bedroom. He cries when his diaper has had enough of pee too.

My wife, Aires, and I are slowly learning his distinct cry for a distinct reason. The worst crying comes when he has too much gas and needs to fart. This can go on for quite a while. No amount of cooing and singing can immediately calm a colicky baby.

Our quick-fix was to breastfeed him. Think of band-aid on a punctured rubber tire. But we learnt that crying does not usually mean it is time to feed.

When Aires returned to work, we tried leaving Heaven at home for one day with expressed milk. He howled for hours, we were told. I heard him crying over the phone and I found myself crying also. But parenting is an on-the-job training. We have learned not to get stressed when Heaven wails.

Sometimes, Heaven cries without really crying. I call it his “staged” cry. He goes “Eeeh! Eeeeh!” I check his stomach to see if he has gas. I touch his diaper to see if he needs a change. When all signs say nothing is wrong, I get back at my little boy and tickle him to lala-land. He goes berserk, his “staged” cry becomes guffaws, and I hear the most magnificent sound of all --- his laughter.

Last Christmas, I dared my relatives to make Heaven laugh for 500 pesos. But the catch was they had to do the mission without touching him. My nieces and nephews took turns making funny faces and weird noises. My relatives did everything imaginable to make Heaven laugh. Heaven was ecstatic. He was all smiles. But the baby laughter never came. Aires and I left the Christmas party with a happy child and with my 500 pesos.

When Heaven cries, we try not to cry with him. But when he smiles, we cannot help but smile at and with him. And when he laughs, we know that the pursuit of happiness is ours for the taking.

Mission impossible

Twenty years ago, I left high school and left behind 10 years of my youth. But I took with me the rare friendships I gained through all those years. When I remember my school, I think not of my scholastic achievements but of the many adventures I had with my barkada.

Our high school barkada came to be because of our Citizens’ Army Training (CAT). We were a motley group of crew-cut shaven officers. Adam Buenaventura was corps commander. What a giant leader he was! I was his vice corps commander. Osmond Chiong was N-3, Erwin Valenzuela was N-5, Henry Odulio was adjutant, and the list went on and on. We were a fine crew and we dreamt of reaching the CAT inter-school military contest finals. Naysayers said it was a tall order and a mission impossible. Training for this military fest brought us closer and our barkada bigger. Adam steered us to the school’s finest finish in the CAT inter-school competition. We did not win the crown but we knew deep in our hearts that we were excellent.

Right after high school, we kept in touch with each other --- celebrating birthdays, spending out-of-town swims, and keeping track of early adulthood escapades. First bottles of beer. First trip to a girlie joint. First you-know-what.

We had girls in the barkada. And we would spend Saturdays hanging out at their houses --- their parents just all too nice to have us come over. Through the years, we lost touch with several of our friends but we kept a core of barkada who would be there during the best and the worst times of our lives. In weddings, baptisms, funerals. Not necessarily in that order.

We set the 30th of December for our annual barkada Christmas party. I missed several occasions but I could proudly say that our barkada has never missed celebrating this annual party --- whether there were only four or 24 who year in and out would reminisce about the good ol’ days of high school.

We had our last at the Monfort Bar and Grill in San Miguel by the Bay park. We opened invitations to other batchmates. It was a blast.

This year, we hope to make it a batch reunion party. This, we know is a tall order to accomplish. But we heard about the same stuff when we competed for the finals of the CAT military fest. Wait for my year-end account and then we will know if we again accomplished a mission impossible.

New Year surprise

A year ago, we knew not that Aires was already pregnant. The news came as a surprise. What a surprise it was!

Now, Heaven is almost six months old. Had he been born full term, he would be 4.5 months. He has grown from a teeny tiny premature baby to a terribly expressive and active infant. He coos and goes eeeh-aaah. He can hold his head up high and stand on his sprightly legs. He can clasp his hands together. He loves going out and enjoys a lot of chat time.

He is exclusively breastfed and has not been sick except for one bout of post-vaccination fever. He turns to Aires for his feeding time. He turns to me for his playtime.

It has not been smooth-sailing for Aires though. She had to return to work when Heaven was four months old. Heaven goes with us to work and stays at my office’s nursery room. Aires drops by three times in a day to feed Heaven. Thank God for breastfeeding blouses that have helped Aires do breastfeeding more comfortably.

There are no regrets at all. We are not spending for infant formula. We are sure that Heaven won’t get hospitalized in his early years. He is strong, healthy, and amazingly responsive.

Breastfeeding is hard work. But like with hard work, the results are rewarding. We are eager to see Heaven’s next developmental milestone. Will he finally learn to roll over? Will he finally learn to follow the Close-Open song? Will he finally utter Nanay or Tatay? We just can’t wait for the next surpise.

Stare, gawk, ogle

Stare. Gawk. Ogle.

That’s all Aires and I do when Heaven Czar is sleeping. He’s asleep 22 hours a day. Now that’s a lot of staring, gawking, and ogling.

My wife and I just could not believe that our son is finally here with us. Only a few weeks ago, we were near the end of our limits when we suffered pitfall after pitfall. Aires’ blood was clotting again. Her natural killer cells were hyperactive again. Her placenta was aging fast. The baby could be born earlier than planned.

No matter how hard we tried to prepare for his coming, Heaven Czar came like a thief in the night, like the gentleman caller whom the maidens waited for, like the falling star in a sea of crystals. Technically, he still should be inside his mother’s womb today. But Heaven could not wait any longer.

We could not wait either for his baby milestones. I gawk at him for a long time, hoping that I could catch the very moment he fixes his stare back at me. I am still a blurry image to him today. But I am counting the days till he is able to see faces more clearly.

What do we see when we stare, gawk, ogle at Heaven? We see his pointed nose. We see his chiseled chin. We see his rosy cheeks. We see his pronounced forehead. We see his long eyelashes. And the ears, what big ones he has! We see a great looking infant.

I don’t care if people say that parents simply see the best in their babies. Isn’t that what all parents should be able to see? See the best in their children. At birth, we see the best in their infant features. We see their best moves as they grow older. We see their best traits as they begin school. We see what they really are best at when they reach puberty. We believe in their strengths and acknowledge their weaknesses.

But that’s still years away for our dear Heaven. For now, let me be content in staring, gawking, ogling at our little miracle. Indeed, seeing is believing.

Naddy or nanny-daddy

My friends call me the male nanny. Children --- babies to teens --- warm up to me quite easily. During family and office out-of-town trips, I would be found taking care of the kids, playing with them, feeding them, and tucking them to sleep. Friends, colleagues, and relatives quipped that I would make a great father someday.

That someday has finally come.

When I learnt that Aires, my wife, was at last pregnant last January, I began reliving my nanny days. I summoned my paternal instinct. I invoked my daddy vibes.

When I first heard the heartbeat of the baby inside Aires’ womb, I shed a tear or two. My heart raced just as fast as the pulse beats emanating from the ultrasound machine.

When I first saw a complete scan of the baby inside Aires’ womb, I waited with abated breath the doctor’s verdict. Our baby is a boy and he is one lean mean fighting machine.

When I was told that Aires may have to deliver earlier than planned, I tried so hard not to crumble under all the anxiety. I lifted everything up to God.

When Aires told me that fateful midnight of 26 July that her water just broke, I had to be strong for Aires and for the baby. There was no room for second-guessing, and no space for second thoughts.

When Heaven Czar was born, I knew that my someday has finally come. I have always believed that fatherhood is in me. I touched Heaven for the first time when he was still inside the incubator. I caressed him, believing that my warm touch could heal. I took pictures of my son, slinging away, no holds-barred. I tried to be the source of strength for Aires who faced quite an ordeal, what with all the medications, injections, and anticipation.

I was not perfect. I had several slip-ups along the way but I was learning. Heaven did not just fill up a gap. He completed us. My dream to be a father has finally come. But the journey is not over.

My guy friends welcomed me to the club and asked if I was ready for many sleepless nights and cranky mornings. But I don’t know how much sleepless could it get in the coming nights.

Heaven Czar is only two-weeks old. So far, Aires and I get at least six hours of sleep every night, with at most three breastfeeding gaps in between. We would wake up every two hours to breastfeed Heaven. We are slowly getting the hang of it.

Thank God also that Heaven is not cranky at all. He occasionally lets out a grunt but he seems perfectly content, swaddled in comfy blankets, breastfed at the right time, and making poo-poo and wee-wee quite frequently.

And when I change his diapers, I cannot help but smile. The nanny is finally a daddy.

Perfect

There’s no such thing as a perfect thing.

But breast milk is simply perfect. Just ask our neonatologist, Dr. Mian Silvestre. Just ask Heaven Czar, our son, maybe years from now. Heaven was born prematurely at 31 weeks and 6 days. He had to be placed inside an incubator for one week. He could have stayed there for a longer time had it not been for his mom’s lifesaving gift --- Aires’ breast milk.

Nobody could really explain why. But a mother’s breast milk for her premature baby contains the most astonishing components that will help the baby survive. And that milk is uniquely made for each baby.

We only needed a few drops of Aires’ colostrum to sustain Heaven in the first three days of his life. In fact, we only needed to give him about 0.1 cc for every two hours. This amount increased as the days passed. Heaven was fed through a gastric tube.

But perfect as it is, giving breast milk to a premature baby is a labor of love. Aires expressed milk. It was painful at first but when we saw how such little intake helped Heaven achieved great strides, Aires endured the pain and soon after, her regular milk started flowing.

Just before Heaven reached his one week milestone, he was out of the incubator and unto Aires’ bosom. It was magnificent to see Heaven finally get breastfed.

But everytime Aires and I put Heaven to her breast, we struggle to get the perfect latch. Successful breastfeeding relies on the right position and the perfect latch. The baby’s mouth should be wide open, lower lip covering most of the aureola, the chin touching the breast, the nose tilted up. Only with a perfect latch can we assure that Heaven gets his perfect food.

Now, that is perfection at its finest and purest.