Kiss #11: And Then There Were Three

 Photo by Dairy Darilag

How do I even begin to write about childbirth, motherhood, and how much of a crazy life-changing experience it all is?

It's been 16 days, and this baby is making me think things and do things that I never thought I would do. He gets me out of bed at three in the morning without complaint. He's kept me at home for daaays at a time (unheard of in my past life), and the rare times that I do step out for things like doctor's visits, he's pretty much attached to me. He's made me seriously consider being a stay-at-home mom--I get weepy just thinking about going back to work and leaving him. Even now, just leaving him downstairs with the nanny as he naps, I keep wondering if he's doing OK.

My water broke at 2:30 a.m. on the 30th of December. For those unfamiliar with the process of childbirth: Less than 15% of women experience their water breaking--it's not as common as all those Hollywood films make it out to be. So imagine my surprise when I woke up to the feeling of having sat on a water balloon! This wasn't supposed to happen. I was still a long way off. In fact, I was scheduled to be induced five days later!

"Panic" doesn't even come close to describing what I was feeling at that time. H and I threw some last-minute things into our bags and headed to the hospital. After I was admitted, I spent a few hours going from 1 cm to 2 to 3. And that's when I realized that I have an incredibly low tolerance for pain. At 3 cm, I was in tears! It was mostly because of the oxytocin used to hurry things along--when they stopped using it, the pain was quite manageable. The prob was, if they didn't use it, we wouldn't get anywhere.

And then alarm bells: Whenever I would have a contraction, little monster's heart rate would go down.:( My (absolutely wonderful) OB was concerned that it was cord coil, and eventually made the decision to open me up. I know a lot of women dream of a normal delivery, and I was aiming for that, but I had no qualms about having a C-section. You can have the most amazing birth plan, but nothing is ever set in stone.

I also know a lot of women welcome the epidural, but not me. I have a fear of paralysis, of feeling trapped (being wrapped in seaweed at a spa is enough to make me anxious), and I didn't like being strapped down and losing all feeling from the chest down. I kept trying to take deep breaths, but it felt like I couldn't. It felt like I was drowning. Thankfully, my OB was incredibly reassuring. I probably would have had a full-on anxiety attack if it weren't for her.

I kept asking them to put me to sleep. I kept asking for my husband (he wasn't allowed inside since it was a C-section). I kept asking how much longer it would take, and they would humor me by answering, "Fifteen minutes," like those trainers who trick you into thinking that you just have to do 10 more crunches. I must have heard "fifteen minutes" three different times. But I held on to that. My OB told me, "The minute you hear him cry, you'll forget everything."

And I did.

I'm getting teary eyed just remembering that moment. 

The first thing I heard my doctor say was, "He has black hair!" And then that glorious bellow from those powerful lungs of his. And then I could breathe. I could even smile.

He didn't cry like a newborn. He didn't even look like a newborn. (Look at those hands!) Doc said it was a good thing we decided to go for a C-section because that kid probably wasn't going to fit through my pelvis anyway. (Thank goodness we didn't wait til 10 cm to find that out.) My husband was finally allowed inside, and seeing our baby in his arms...and then feeling the little one on my chest...I have a hard time finding the words to describe it. It was peace and relief and warmth, and later on (when the morphine wore off!), love that was just shockingly intense. And an even deeper love for my husband, something I didn't think possible.

Part of me wants to fast forward to the day when he won't be as fragile, when we won't have to worry about his neck or SIDS or all those other paranoia-inducing newborn issues. But part of me also wants to freeze time, because I know it's going by so fast.

I think I'll go watch my son sleep.

Kiss #10: Positive :)

After nearly three years of "me and you, just us two," my husband and I finally decided that it was time to make an addition to the family. And the minute we decided, BAM!

Red marks on Hamil's face are brought to you by jiu-jitsu.

It's my 15th week--we've known since April, but we just decided not to tell anyone aside from immediate family and very few close friends until the end of first trimester. This is partly because I'm half-Indian (haha) and partly because we just really wanted to be safe. A lot can happen in the first trimester. Once we decided to tell people, there were no big announcements on Facebook, and just tweets in passing.

 My mom's hilarious reaction after we showed her the pregnancy test: "Ano 'to, USB?"

We kind of timed it so that ze bebe will be a Capricorn like us. I know that sounds silly, but being a parent is hard enough, so we figured the kid might as well have our temperaments. Har. Whatever helps, right? We also made it to the Year of the Dragon cutoff. Ah, a Targaryen! Based on a Game of Thrones quiz I took before, mommy belongs to House Targaryen--a dragon too.

"Mommy." That'll take some getting used to.

Kiss #9: Surigao

This is what my first Groupon purchase got me:

A spacious villa...

We stayed here

...with a view that can't be beat...

An encounter with a jellyfish...

Jellyfish Lagoon

Some exercise...

Sohoton Cave

And the chance to jump off a cliff again...

The most awesome deck, where we ate breakfast and read...

...sat and soaked up our breathtaking surroundings...

...and just enjoyed talking from sunset til late in the evening, wine in hand, watching fireflies and stars come out...

Our ninth kiss--our first time in Mindanao together. But more than that, it marks a time when I was truly happy and at peace.

Kiss #8: At the Finish Line

Adrenalin and pride--possibly the only things that kept us going!

It was dark as the crowd gathered at the starting line on Ayala Avenue for the Condura half marathon. We were a group of five: me, my husband, our 50-year-old ninong, and two of Hamil's friends. I was the only girl. About an hour before, Hamil and I had already slathered petroleum jelly onto our feet and arms (to know why, read this) and eaten bananas. We did a slow warm-up jog before taking our places amid the crowd that turned up for the 21-kilometer run. When the clock hit 4:30 am, wave after wave started running every 30 seconds. Our turn came up, and bodies--mostly tight, impossibly fit bodies that trained much more than I did (a measly six runs in the three weeks before the 21K)--surged ahead of us. (Legolas: "They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them!")

Two of our friends went ahead of us, while Hamil and I kept pace with our ninong. We turned left onto Rufino and soon, we hit the Skyway. I picked up speed, as I am wont to do while running uphill, for the simple reason that I like getting it over with as soon as possible! I silently thanked our neighborhood with its steep inclines, as well as White Plains with its hilly streets, for somewhat preparing me for this.

Our tactic was to run five kilometers, then walk to recover and munch on some chocolate to keep us going, before running five kilometers again. I kept running ahead and stopping to wait for Hamil, who was making sure that our ninong kept a good pace, enough to meet the three-and-a-half-hour cutoff. My husband kept telling me to go ahead, but I stubbornly insisted on waiting for them.

We ran all the way to Bicutan then made a U-turn back onto the Skyway. By the tenth kilometer, Hamil checked the time, and I started to get worried. I realized that adjusting to someone else's pace was killing my momentum, and I feared that I wouldn't be able to finish. With a somewhat heavy heart, I ran ahead. I didn't want to leave Hamil, but I also didn't want to sputter at some point and give up. Big realization: I run better alone.

The sun had risen by the time I was running to Buendia. I tried listening to some music, but my earphones kept slipping off, so I just kept going in silence. I was excitedly looking for markers saying how far I had run: 14km, 15km, 16km... By the 18th, I told myself I wasn't going to stop running until I reached the finish line. But my body was kind of giving out, and I had to walk for a few seconds every now and then. Once I got on the flyover leading to the Fort, I ran past the people who were walking up the incline. When the flyover flattened, I walked for a bit before picking up speed on the way down.

When I started the race, I had it in my head to finish strong. I wasn't going to run 20 kilometers then just walk it the last kilometer. I was going to run, dammit. I was going to run faster than I had the previous miles. When I rounded a corner, I spotted the finish line and I almost cried. I teared up, knowing that this was the farthest, the longest I had ever run. I sprinted the last 100 meters--at least, as much as I could sprint given legs that already felt like lead.

I crossed the finish line and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. My time was utterly unimpressive, but I was just glad that I did it. Despite the lack of training, despite my hate-hate relationship with running, I did it. Minutes later, my husband came with our ninong.

I was quite proud of myself for running 21 kilometers, something I never would have imagined myself doing, er, a month ago! I was most surprised that I stayed focused throughout the run. I half-expected that my mind would give up at some point, the way it kind of did during our 15K. But on that morning, I felt absolutely no desire to stop. But I'm even more proud of my husband for his unbelievable patience and restraint. He could have run that thing in less than two and a half hours, but he wanted to make sure that our running buddy was OK. That takes even greater strength.

I'm probably never going to run a half marathon again. I honestly thought that this would be my longest run ever, but now I'm considering trying a full marathon. Some day. Not just yet. I'll need much more than three weeks' training for that!

Training Day

So this is what running 15K feels like...

I used to abhor running. Back in college, the warmup before dance practice was sometimes a one-mile run. I could get through it pretty quickly (eight minutes, to be exact), but it was torture. I would bitch through those eight minutes and think about how I would much rather be learning a new routine. Cheerdancer training was no different. We sometimes had to run about half an hour, all around the Ateneo campus, and it was my absolute least favorite part of training.

When I started working, I didn't have regular dance training anymore, so I had to resort to other forms of exercise. Running became one of them. I would push myself to do interval training (increased my speed and endurance) and 5K runs on the treadmill (personal best: around 29 minutes. Obviously, it involved some walking!). For a time, I kind of enjoyed it, especially after a rough day. Running in Ateneo on cool evenings also helped me clear my head when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed.

Last year marked the first time I ran about 11K. It took a while, but I did it. I would've been so proud of myself if only my husband hadn't kept on running for 10 more kilometers (for no apparent reason other than he can), leaving me--and my personal record--behind in the dust.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, I had no desire to join fun runs. And then my husband signed me up for a half marathon. That's 21 frickin' kilometers. Our phone conversation:

Hamil: Ano, register na kita? (Should I register for you?)
Tisha: Ummm... Magkano ba yan? (How much?)
Hamil: P1,300.
Tisha: MAGBABAYAD AKO NG P1,300 PARA LANG MAPAGOD?! (I'm paying P1,300 just to get tired?!)

After much thought, and despite being in the worst shape in recent years (I hardly had any exercise in November and December, and I had the holiday fat to show for it), I relented. I figured that this was the first and last time I would ever run that long. And I figured I had one of my 100 kisses waiting for me at the finish line.

Hamil outlined a training program which I haven't been able to follow. The weather was uncooperative last week so I wasn't able to get in the miles I wanted to get in. I did, however, have the best possible trainer for my first 5K run of the year--Marie, one of my really good friends, who just happens to be the editor in chief of Runner's World! She's run the New York Marathon twice and an ultra marathon (that's over 100 kilometers!) so I'd say she's a bit of an expert in this area. She gave me some helpful tips and, more importantly, distracted me from the boredom that inevitably accompanies seemingly endless rounds at the Ultra oval.

Last night, as per Hamil's training schedule, we had to run 15 kilometers. All my old feelings about running resurfaced. (See first paragraph.) By the seventh kilometer, I was already bitching about the pain in my stomach, my knee, my ankle. I wasn't the most pleasant person in the world to run with, but my husband stayed positive, cheering me on and waiting for me. I knew that he was kind of holding back, that he was raring to run ahead. But he stayed with me. He wanted to practice running with me because he doesn't want to leave me when we finally run the 21K, personal record be damned. More than anything, that's what's going to push me to the finish line.

Wish me luck.

Image from here.

Kiss #7: 10 Years with the Love of My Life

2000...

Hanging out in Ateneo, where it all began

2001... I used to have a photo in my wallet, of me and Hamil after Game 3 of the UAAP finals--the year Ateneo made it back into the finals after sooo long. I was in my cheering outfit, Hamil in his work clothes. It was the last time I cheered in front of a filled-to-the-rafters Araneta Coliseum. Unfortunately, I think that photo was in the wallet that was stolen some weeks ago.:( And this was pre-digital age, so no back-up. Unless I can find the contact prints. Sigh.

2002...the year I graduated from college. Photos in my old house!

2003...

My Print Screen wasn't working so I took a photo of this collage from...Friendster! Har. (Clockwise from bottom left) In Paradiso, Bataan (the cheerdancers' private getaway c/o Nikki!); in the infinity pool at Punta Fuego; after a 20s-inspired party

2004...

Hamil and a non-tan Tishie Tishie in Galera

2005...

The year Hamil finished his masters. My graduation gift to him: a trip to Boracay. (Other pics at my old house)

2006...

Bohol

2007

With my number one fan, the year I first started playing competitive disc

2008...

The night we got engaged

2009...

The day we officially became husband and wife

2010...

Back where it began: Ateneo

Ten years ago this month, a college senior professed his love for a college junior through a good old-fashioned harana. With the rest of his all-male org, boy sang "The Promise"--and it was the start of, well, forever. Nearly nine years later, girl walked down the aisle to that very song, and a video of the actual harana was played at the reception.

Today, girl thanks her lucky stars, fate, God--all that conspired to bring her the best Christmas gift ever.

To my husband, my soul mate, my best friend, my everything, I love you.

Kiss #6: Bungee Jumping!

"It's so scary!" the girl on the ledge kept telling us in this apologetic tone, probably worried that we were getting impatient for our turn. We kept reassuring her that it was OK--who were we to judge? For all we knew, we would panic when our moment came to exhibit that we were at least one part crazy.

We were at AJ Hackett in Kuta, Bali, standing on a platform, awaiting our turn to jump. When we were figuring out our honeymoon itinerary, we were dead-set on making a tandem bungee jump a part of our trip. It was $185 for a few adrenalin-pumping seconds, but what the heck!

While we were waiting to get strapped onto the bungee cords, Hamil and I discussed our tactic: No hesitation. Just do it. "The longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be," he reasoned.

So after the girl jumped, we made our way to the prep area, where they double checked our weight--we had to step on a scale before heading up to the ledge, and our weights were written in bold black marker on the backs of our hands. "It's like adding insult to...to..." I began, when I was recounting the experience to a friend. "To possible injury?" he offered. Yeah, it wasn't enough that we were risking peeing in our pants while jumping off a platform 45 meters from the ground, but I also had to be reminded that I'd gained six kilos since being a cheerleader! Sigh.

We sat on the mat, where the crew proceeded to wrap our ankles in folded towels, and strap on the harnesses and bungee cords. They explained that one arm should go behind the partner's back, holding tightly onto the harness on his or her side. The other arm was free--to flail, hug, or do a fist pump while we plummeted.

As we inched our way to the ledge, Hamil let out a swear word. And if my heart was pounding even before we went up the tower, now it was pounding so hard that I didn't even hear the music blaring over the loudspeaker. We heard the crew do the countdown:

"Five..."

"Four..."

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One!"

Make your own animation

AAAAAHHH!!!

That was INSANE!

The plan was for me and Hamil to kiss on our way down, but if you look at that photo, we're kissing while we're on the ledge. The minute we step into nothingness, I've still got my lips puckered, but Hamil has started screaming! (He only screamed once; I, on the other hand, screamed at every drop, recoil, and subsequent drop!)

Money shot

I can't describe the fear that grips your heart once you feel gravity's awesome power, and see the ground and water below rushing at you in a second. Thank goodness I peed beforehand. (OK TMI, but you seriously should go to the bathroom before you attempt this!)

Once it was all over, we lay on a mattress as the straps were being removed. Only then did I notice that I was still gripping tightly onto Hamil's waist harness. And only then did I realize that a very appropriate song was playing in the background: Aerosmith's "Crazy"!

In the words of Git Fresh, I think I need a cigarette. And I don't even smoke.

For our efforts, we got a shirt, a certificate...

It's a Certificate of Borderline Insanity. Seriously, that's what it says!

...and a kiss that's one for the books!

Kiss #5: Honeymoon, At Last!

Because of our crazy busy scheds, it took us more than a year after our wedding to finally get this kiss...

This breathtaking photo was taken on the cliffs of Ulu Watu in Bali, Indonesia. Hamil actually high-fived the tour guide for taking an outstanding pic. There's us, with our sashes--required wear for anyone who wants to enter that temple in the background. And there, to the right, perched atop a cliff, is the famous temple of Ulu Watu, one of a thousand temples on the small island. It's a little unnerving, walking beside a steep drop to those waves crashing against solid rock. But it's quite beautiful. I hear the sunset from here is a sight to see.

More on our trip--our honeymoon!--in the next post.

Kiss #4: Singapore Swing

We toasted our first time together in Singapore with--what else?--a couple of Singapore Slings! (Mine was virgin, of course!)

I had been there a couple of times before, once on an audition for a travel show hosting gig on the erstwhile Discovery Travel and Living channel (now TLC), and once en route to my first Indian wedding held in Bintan, Indonesia. Hamil had gone previously on business. Wish I could tell you that, together, we did all these exciting things in the 24 hours we were there. But we were just so exhausted from the lack of sleep (three words: six a.m. flight), and were happy enough to spend a good part of the trip watching a How I Met Your Mother marathon and snoozing at my sister-in-law's apartment! Ah, well. We had enough adventures in the following days to make up for it. Stay tuned!

Counting the Days

In about two weeks, my husband and I will FINALLY be going on our honeymoon! We'll be gone for about a week, and will be staying in three different places. Haha. I don't want to reveal where we're going yet (although a lot of people already know), but I'm really really hoping that our last villa lives up to the photos and reviews.

Doesn't that look positively sumptuous? I am relishing the idea of escaping from reality, just spending uninterrupted time with the love of my life, eat-eat-eating to my heart's (and stomach's) content, and lounging in that little spa pool!

But first, work beckons in New York Cit-ey.

Kiss #3: One Year, and Counting!

First anniversary weekend getaway in Mini Santorini (will blog in detail about it soon)

A year ago (or, more accurately, one year, one week, and two days ago), I officially became the luckiest girl alive: I married the man I've been with since I was 19. (And nope, we never broke up. It was never on the table.) The man who surprised me with an old-fashioned serenade; who used to commute under the heat of the summer sun just to see me; who waited six hours for me without complaint (that was when I knew); who still opens the car door for me even in the age of automatic locks; who not only lets me do my own thing but, more importantly, cheers me on; who still surprises me with flowers for no reason; who bravely eats and even compliments my failed kitchen experiments ("Masarap naman yung part na hindi sunog ah...").

Honestly, I thought that by now, the whole living-together thing would have gotten old. But it's still a thrill to go home to him/have him come home to me; to have whispered conversations (and a good laugh) as we lie in bed, covering everything from the mundane to the meaning of life; to wake up beside him every morning--I could do without the blare of his alarm though. You'd think that spending so much time together would make me so sick of being around him. But we part in the morning, and by the afternoon I'm missing him. Always.

Happy first anniversary, Hamil! Here's to us getting even better with age!

First Concert, Second Kiss

OK, so the photo isn't that great. But there's a story behind it: Girl is fully resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be able to watch the Usher concert because she would be working that night. The very evening of the concert, girl finds that she can watch the concert after all! Girl is caught unprepared and camera-less. Girl watches concert with boy--the first one they see together after nearly 10 years of being a couple. Girl is sad that she doesn't have her trusty golden digicam. Boy whips out camera-phone and snaps away.

Lesson learned: Be prepared--whether this means looking presentable, having your digicam, or being game for anything--because you never know when something special is going to happen!

Kiss #1: Wedding Day

This is where The 100 Kisses Project begins: our wedding day, almost exactly one year ago!

Highlights:

• Hamil and I exchanged our vows (and our first kiss as husband and wife) in front of a packed church!
• We had a very pretty, Martha Stewart Weddings-worthy wedding--from my peacock- and ostrich-feather-festooned bouquet, to the black spray-painted doilies on the tables, the accordion frames with our sponsors' pictures and table numbers, the very chic setup and yummy food by Kaye Cunanan, the black lace surrounding the three tiers of our (free) pristine white cake...sigh.
• Modesty aside, I think we had one of the most fun weddings I've ever been to! A number of our friends actually got sloshed, we had pizza delivered at midnight (wiped out in five minutes flat!), and people danced til 2:00 AM!

I gotta say though, the wedding was fun, but the marriage so far--it's a total blast!