A PREGNANT PAUSE
Yesterday, I had my second false alarm.
I started feeling contractions at around 6:00 PM. I followed my doctor's instructions, gulping down huge amounts of water and lying on my left side in bed. When they still hadn't subsided by 8:00 PM, I asked Lorenzo to take me to the hospital. I felt bad, knowing he had to report to Camp Parks early the next morning for his Army Reserve training, but he was very understanding.
My husband and I share the same goal in this pregnancy: making it as close to 40 weeks as possible. Even 37 weeks, already considered full term, is good enough for us. Unfortunately, I had just barely passed my 34th week at this point. It was still too early for my baby daughter to be born.
Lance came at 34 weeks. With both Lance and Troy (who came at 36 weeks), we waited too long to go to the hospital. We weren't about to make the same mistake three times in a row.
Good thing Lorenzo discovered a faster route to Doctor's Medical Center when he last brought me in for contractions, exactly four weeks ago. By the time we rounded the bend, just within sight of the hospital, I was besieged by a HUGE contraction, and all my misgivings flew out the window. Yes, this could be a false alarm, but it could very well be the real thing, too. This time around, I wasn't taking any chances. Considering my track record, I'd rather err on the side of caution.
When we finally reached the hospital, I was so relieved, I didn't even mind being wheeled in on a wheelchair. Anything to combat the force of gravity on my gravid womb. Just being in the confines of Doctor's gave me a sense of calm. It is the best hospital within the vicinity, sporting a very capable Level 3 NICU facility, able to handle even the smallest babies. If you were at risk for pre-term labor, this was the place to be. With my history of premature births, I was very familiar with the acronym NICU, short for "Neonatal Intensive Care Unit". Luckily, Lance and Troy didn't have to be brought into a NICU, despite their early births. But if my baby daughter ever came early like her kuyas, it's good to know there's a NICU so close at hand.
As luck would have it, the Maternity Center was full to the rafters last night. I ended up being wheeled to a separate treatment room. This room was stripped down to the basics, with the requisite examination table and maternal/fetal monitors and not much of anything else. Lorenzo and I had the same feeling of deja vu upon seeing my quarters. This room was just a step above the infamous storage room at Kaiser Santa Clara, where I ended up giving birth to Troy.
When I had Troy, my labor progressed so quickly that they didn't have time to prepare a proper LDR (labor and delivery room) for me. In fact, they barely had time to get the storage room in order. Lorenzo tells me the bed preceded me by a mere couple of minutes. At that point, I was just happy to make it to the hospital. Any more traffic on the road and Lorenzo would've had to deliver the baby himself, right in the confines of our minivan.
Not that I doubt my husband's capabilities. It's a little known fact that Lorenzo assisted in Lance's delivery. During a critical period when I was in labor, Lance's heart rate dropped to 53 beats per minute, extremely low considering the normal range was 150 or higher. At that point, my LDR nurse (a Filipina named Maria Fe) decided to deliver the baby without waiting for my OB-Gyn, who was en route. She needed all the assistance she could get, and Lorenzo gamely joined the two other nurses who came to help. Between the four of them, they managed to brace my legs open when it was time to push. In between pushings, Lorenzo mopped my brow and tried his best to soothe me and ease my discomfort.
One of Lorenzo's most memorable moments happened during Lance's labor. I was hugging him while they were trying to insert my epidural. My poor husband had to witness my (extremely incapable) anesthesiologist stick that HUGE needle in my back SIX TIMES before finally getting it right. Everytime the doctor would pull the needle out, blood would spurt out of my spine, and all Lorenzo could do was watch with mounting irritation while listening to my moans of agony. It is a testament to labor's pain that I didn't even feel the needle entering my back due to my contractions, which were coming one on top of the other at that point.
When my epidural was finally inserted, I heard the nurse say, "Would you like some orange juice?". I was about to answer when I realized she was talking to Lorenzo. My husband had turned an interesting shade of grey. He gratefully accepted the offer, sitting down to steady his legs after the ordeal. Lucky for the anesthesiologist, who promptly withdrew from the room, narrowly escaping Lorenzo's wrath. We later discovered that the epidural came much too late to do any good. By the time it was administered, my cervix had already dilated to 10 centimeters, due to the strength of my contractions.
Last night's contractions were no way near as excruciating, but they were starting to scare me anyway, not so much in terms of intensity, but in terms of regularity. My bedside monitor told the whole story. As each contraction came, a little "hill" registered on the charts. Within minutes, it was apparent that the "peaks" and "valleys" were coming at an alarmingly regular pattern.
My nurse got in touch with my OB-Gyn, Dr. Susan Podolsky, who instructed her to inject me with a dose of subcutaneous terbutaline. Terbutaline is a broncho-dilator commonly used in asthma patients. It also acts as a smooth muscle relaxant, so it is commonly prescribed in cases of pre-term labor, when uterine irritability is detected. I guess my history of pre-term labor has something to do with an irritable uterus.
Great. Of all the wombs in this world, why did mine turn out to be such a drama queen?
When I was pregnant with my eldest son, Max, my ex-husband had to take me in for a non-stress test every other day due to threatened toxemia. This condition, also known as pre-eclampsia, is often indicated by pregnancy-induced hypertension. I read about it, and it seemed to be more common with first-time pregnancies. One of the explanations they came up with was that my body was rejecting the baby as a "foreign object". Even then, my uterus was already trying to show me who was boss.
I was placed on home-monitored bed rest at the time, with a nurse overseeing my care. Bed rest seems to be a common thread in all four of my pregnancies. I guess I carry the Filipino term "maselang magbuntis" to a whole new level. Max ended up coming at exactly 40 weeks, the only time I ever succeded in carrying a baby to term. Bed rest wasn't good enough for my last two babies, Lance and Troy, who came early anyway. But back then, they didn't inject me with terbutaline.
My nurse continued to monitor me after giving me the shot. Unfortunately, it looked like the drug only succeeded in lowering the intensity of my contractions, but it didn't get rid of them altogether. She called Dr. Podolsky, who told her to give me another dose, and discharge me with a two week's prescription of oral terbutaline, which I was instructed to take every 6 hours.
And so I go back to my bed rest, and my self-imposed exile from the blogging world. Expect me to surface every now and then, coming out with a blog or two. I still have some works in progress, many of them just pending completion at this point. This should satisfy the appetite of my co-bloggers, who stop by every once in a while, asking for updates.
To all my friends, thank you so much for continuing to visit my sites, despite my long absence from yours. I'm afraid I dont have as much time as I used to, and it's bound to get worse before it gets better. When the baby comes, I will be ignoring my websites altogether, focusing my energy on the more important task at hand: easing my first daughter's transition from her warm, wet world into an equally fascinating environment, this wonderful world we live in. A world which I love to write about, and I which I promise to return to, as soon as I'm able.
And so, without further ado, I ask for your leave. It is necessary for all of us to take a "pregnant pause" every now and then. With me, it's downright crucial.
Thank you for understanding.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
MY MOM, THE BIRTHDAY MAVEN
It's the middle of April, and the birthday season is well on its way.
When we were younger, the month of March used to herald in the birthday season, which lasted from March to June. My Dad's birthday kicked off the festivities, on March 7, followed in quick succession by mine, on March 28th, and my Mom's, on April 14. Then things settled down a bit, and we had an entire month to prepare for my sisters' birthdays: Haya's, on May 19th, and Maya's, just two weeks later on June 3rd.
This time, it's my Mom's turn to be feted. She will be turning 58 tomorrow, April 14. I can only wish I could look as good as she does when I turn 58.
I've always been proud of my Mom. When I was in school, my classmates would always tell me how beautiful my Mom was whenever she'd visit me in class. I was told that she looked like a movie star when she was younger, often compared to Pilar Pilapil. I always scoffed at this, thinking she was much prettier. She was also very smart, earning her Bachelor's and Master's degrees in UP before heading to the States to work on her Ph.D.
I called my Mom in New York a few days before her birthday, and she said she planned to celebrate quietly, maybe with a meal at her favorite Indian restaurant with my stepfather, Ira. This is so like my Mom, a lady of simple tastes and desires. And yet she would go all out when it came to her children.
Take the case of birthdays, for instance. Birthdays have always been a big deal to us. I guess it's because when we were kids, our family would always celebrate is a big way, usually with a birthday party. During times of plenty, my Mom would order pabitins and pinyatas (better known then as "hit the palayok"), but even during lean times, we would always have balloons. And then there was the food. I didn't much care what was in the menu, as long as it included my favorite party staple: my Lola Elvie's spaghetti. And of course, the piece-de-resistance, a beautiful birthday cake. And yes, it ALWAYS had to be chocolate.
My Mom would sometimes keep the cake a surprise from us, and we would gasp in wonder as soon as it was unveiled. We ordered our cakes from our favorite place, Merced Bake shop along EDSA, and each year, it would be different. I remember a Snow White cake, with all the seven dwarves, and another year, it was Sesame Street, with Ernie, Bert, Big Bird and Oscar (in his garbage can). After the candles were blown, we would lick the icing from the figures while my Mom cut the cake. Then my Lola would wash the figures and put them on display in a shelf somewhere.
My birthday would always fall just a few days after school closed for the summer, but Mom would still let me invite some of my friends and classmates over. It was different with my sisters, Maya and Haya, who always celebrated their birthdays out of town, depending on where we were vacationing at the time. Since we were usually in Mindanao with our paternal grandparents during summer break, Maya and Haya had many of their joint birthday parties in Iligan.
My Lola Luz had her own style of entertaining. For instance, instead of serving store-bought cakes, she preferred to bake her own. She had a whole array of Wilton baking molds, and my sisters would get to choose, helping my Lola bake and ice their cake. Sometimes, Lola Luz would instruct them to go to her garden and pick the prettiest flowers they could find, and she would use these to decorate the birthday cake.
I remember one occasion, when Lola Luz ordered special homemade Durian ice cream for the party. We all wrinkled our noses when we found out, expecting it to stink. To our surprise, it smelled quite normal. Since it was the only ice cream in the house, we finally mustered up enough courage to taste it, and it was actually quite good!
When we got to High School, we all thought we were too "grown-up" for birthday parties, so we just asked our parents for money so we could treat our barkadas to lunch. Since we all went to UPIS for high school, the usual birthday venue was Shakey's Loyola in Katipunan. We would order family-sized versions of our favorite pizzas, (Shakey's Special and Manager's Choice), and supplement these with Chick N' Chips (Shakey's famous fried chicken with mojo potatoes), washed down with pitchers of root beer.
And then there is that important milestone in a girl's life, her debut at the age of 18. As luck would have it, my 18th birthday fell right smack on Good Friday, 1986. This, to me, was opportune, since I wasn't one for lavish parties anyway. Instead, I asked my Mom and Dad if they could just give me money to open my own Express Teller account. At the time, Bank of the Philippine Islands was the only banking chain which offered automated teller machines. I opened an account with my birthday money, feeling so grown up when I received my very first ATM card.
It was also during this birthday that I was allowed to go out of town with a friend for the very first time. My friend, Tina Panopio celebrated her birthday just a few days before mine, and I joined her family for an Easter weekend outing in Anilao, Batangas. My Mom told me that since I was already 18, I was old enough to be trusted. I deeply appreciated this, and tried my very best to show her that I deserved her trust. This, more than anything, set me down firmly on the road to maturity.
When we got even older, our celebrations became simpler, but Mom would always make it a point to celebrate somehow. Usually, we'd have a quiet meal with the family at our favorite Chinese restaurant. But there would still be times when Mom would splurge, and one of our favorite ways of living it up was checking into a hotel or resort somewhere.
On one of my birthdays, the whole family went to try out a new hot spring resort in Los Banos. We were with my Mom's colleagues from La Salle, an extra treat for me since I had the biggest crush on my Mom's best friend's son, and he was THERE! I also remember a spontanoeus trip up North somewhere for Haya's birthday. We just piled into the car and drove with no apparent destination, finding ourselves at the North Expressway and ending up in Tarlac (or was it Bulacan?), where we checked into some roadside inn and explored the immediate vicinity. For Haya's birthday meal, we had an exotic repast of venison and baboy damo (wild boar) in May Farm, a restaurant compound owned and run by a hunter in Bamban, Tarlac. My Mom was always "game" when it came to new experiences (pardon the pun)!
During another memorable celebration, Mom treated us by checking the whole family into the Manila Peninsula for Maya's birthday. This happened during the weekend of the infamous "ash fall", right after Mt. Pinatubo's eruption. By then, I was already a weekend news anchor for RPN News. I remember the slow, nerve-wracking drive from Makati to Broadcast City, amid blinding ash and soot. Of course, I had the misfortune of choosing a black outfit for that particular newscast. By the time I got to Channel 9, I looked like I had just rolled in a sack of cement. Back then, my wardrobe was sponsored by SM, and I was allowed to keep one set of clothes per month. Guess what outfit I was forced to keep that month?
The last time I celebrated my birthday with my Mom was six years ago. We were in Miami at the time, and we had dinner at Martha's, our favorite waterfront restaurant in Dania. I was in Miami to finalize my divorce, and Lorenzo flew in fresh from a fashion show in New York to lend me some moral support. It was the first meeting between my Mom and Lorenzo, but despite her initial misgivings, she remained polite and gracious during dinner. By the end of the evening, I could see that Lorenzo had won my Mom's approval, and I was quietly grateful that she gave him a chance, by getting to know him before passing judgment.
As I look back at these birthday memories, I realize how much my Mom was a part of them. And I am thankful that I inherited the same reverence and esteem for birthdays which my Mom displayed when we were growing up. There's no denying it: I'm a sucker for birthdays. I got it from my Mom.
I think my enthusiasm for celebrating birthdays is so catching, it's rubbing off on the rest of the Serenos. My in-laws now find themselves throwing parties for their children too, and there was even a time when we planned monthly family pot lucks to celebrate everyone's birthdays. Considering my parents-in-law have 6 children and 16 granchildren (soon to be 17, when my daughter is born) there is always someone's birthday to celebrate at any given month.
It wasn't always like this. One of the saddest stories I'd heard was when everybody forgot it was Lorenzo's birthday. He ended up making pansit himself and bringing it to his parents' house along with a store-bought cake. They were surprised to see him, initially not knowing why he came over with food. When I first heard this story, I couldn't believe my mother-in-law failed to remember her own son's birthday. What I found even more unconscionable was the fact that Lorenzo's own WIFE at the time had also forgotten his birthday! Whenever I am reminded of this, I always give my husband a hug. I guess this is my way of reassuring him that this would NEVER happen again, to him OR to any of my kids, for as long as I'm around.
I guess this is another reason I now find myself making a big deal out of my sons' birthdays. Like my Mom before me, I just love the thought of celebrating another year added to their lives. In honor of my Mom, I want my kids' birthday memories to be just as happy as mine.
In fact, I've kept a lot of my remembered traditions alive in my present family. Foremost of these is the all-important birthday cake. I make it a point to have Lance and Troy choose their cakes well in advance. This makes them look forward to their parties even more. So far, Lance has already chosen Winnie the Pooh, Teletubbies and Thomas the Tank Engine, with a dinosaur cake lined up for his next birthday. Troy, on the other hand, has had Elmo and Blue's Clues birthday cakes. When he turns three this coming July, I think I'll do Harry Potter. Troy loves Harry Potter. In fact, when he sees a kid he doesn't particularly like, he points an imaginary wand at him, uttering that terrifying spell, "Eat slugs!"
And then there are the parties themselves. Lance's last birthday was held after school in Del Taco. For Troy's celebration, I am already planning a Harry Potter movie party. Since the next Harry Potter film will be coming out in June, the lines shouldn't be too bad by the time Troy's birthday, July 17, comes along. We'll probably invite a few cousins and friends to see the movie with us, proceeding to the theater's party room for cake and ice cream after.
I usually have a swimming party for Troy, with his birthday right in the middle of summer, but this year, I'll think I'll push the swimming party a month back, in time for Lorenzo's 35th birthday on August 13. Come July, I'll still have my hands full with our new baby daughter, Reana Loren, due to arrive on June 1. It's hard to believe that in six weeks' time, we'll have a new life to celebrate. Another birthday to commemorate with each passing year.
And so I honor the person who gave me life, even as I wait for another life to spring from my own.
Happy Birthday, Mom. May this birthday bring you much happiness, just as you strove to make us happy for our birthdays, many, many years ago.
It's the middle of April, and the birthday season is well on its way.
When we were younger, the month of March used to herald in the birthday season, which lasted from March to June. My Dad's birthday kicked off the festivities, on March 7, followed in quick succession by mine, on March 28th, and my Mom's, on April 14. Then things settled down a bit, and we had an entire month to prepare for my sisters' birthdays: Haya's, on May 19th, and Maya's, just two weeks later on June 3rd.
This time, it's my Mom's turn to be feted. She will be turning 58 tomorrow, April 14. I can only wish I could look as good as she does when I turn 58.
I've always been proud of my Mom. When I was in school, my classmates would always tell me how beautiful my Mom was whenever she'd visit me in class. I was told that she looked like a movie star when she was younger, often compared to Pilar Pilapil. I always scoffed at this, thinking she was much prettier. She was also very smart, earning her Bachelor's and Master's degrees in UP before heading to the States to work on her Ph.D.
I called my Mom in New York a few days before her birthday, and she said she planned to celebrate quietly, maybe with a meal at her favorite Indian restaurant with my stepfather, Ira. This is so like my Mom, a lady of simple tastes and desires. And yet she would go all out when it came to her children.
Take the case of birthdays, for instance. Birthdays have always been a big deal to us. I guess it's because when we were kids, our family would always celebrate is a big way, usually with a birthday party. During times of plenty, my Mom would order pabitins and pinyatas (better known then as "hit the palayok"), but even during lean times, we would always have balloons. And then there was the food. I didn't much care what was in the menu, as long as it included my favorite party staple: my Lola Elvie's spaghetti. And of course, the piece-de-resistance, a beautiful birthday cake. And yes, it ALWAYS had to be chocolate.
My Mom would sometimes keep the cake a surprise from us, and we would gasp in wonder as soon as it was unveiled. We ordered our cakes from our favorite place, Merced Bake shop along EDSA, and each year, it would be different. I remember a Snow White cake, with all the seven dwarves, and another year, it was Sesame Street, with Ernie, Bert, Big Bird and Oscar (in his garbage can). After the candles were blown, we would lick the icing from the figures while my Mom cut the cake. Then my Lola would wash the figures and put them on display in a shelf somewhere.
My birthday would always fall just a few days after school closed for the summer, but Mom would still let me invite some of my friends and classmates over. It was different with my sisters, Maya and Haya, who always celebrated their birthdays out of town, depending on where we were vacationing at the time. Since we were usually in Mindanao with our paternal grandparents during summer break, Maya and Haya had many of their joint birthday parties in Iligan.
My Lola Luz had her own style of entertaining. For instance, instead of serving store-bought cakes, she preferred to bake her own. She had a whole array of Wilton baking molds, and my sisters would get to choose, helping my Lola bake and ice their cake. Sometimes, Lola Luz would instruct them to go to her garden and pick the prettiest flowers they could find, and she would use these to decorate the birthday cake.
I remember one occasion, when Lola Luz ordered special homemade Durian ice cream for the party. We all wrinkled our noses when we found out, expecting it to stink. To our surprise, it smelled quite normal. Since it was the only ice cream in the house, we finally mustered up enough courage to taste it, and it was actually quite good!
When we got to High School, we all thought we were too "grown-up" for birthday parties, so we just asked our parents for money so we could treat our barkadas to lunch. Since we all went to UPIS for high school, the usual birthday venue was Shakey's Loyola in Katipunan. We would order family-sized versions of our favorite pizzas, (Shakey's Special and Manager's Choice), and supplement these with Chick N' Chips (Shakey's famous fried chicken with mojo potatoes), washed down with pitchers of root beer.
And then there is that important milestone in a girl's life, her debut at the age of 18. As luck would have it, my 18th birthday fell right smack on Good Friday, 1986. This, to me, was opportune, since I wasn't one for lavish parties anyway. Instead, I asked my Mom and Dad if they could just give me money to open my own Express Teller account. At the time, Bank of the Philippine Islands was the only banking chain which offered automated teller machines. I opened an account with my birthday money, feeling so grown up when I received my very first ATM card.
It was also during this birthday that I was allowed to go out of town with a friend for the very first time. My friend, Tina Panopio celebrated her birthday just a few days before mine, and I joined her family for an Easter weekend outing in Anilao, Batangas. My Mom told me that since I was already 18, I was old enough to be trusted. I deeply appreciated this, and tried my very best to show her that I deserved her trust. This, more than anything, set me down firmly on the road to maturity.
When we got even older, our celebrations became simpler, but Mom would always make it a point to celebrate somehow. Usually, we'd have a quiet meal with the family at our favorite Chinese restaurant. But there would still be times when Mom would splurge, and one of our favorite ways of living it up was checking into a hotel or resort somewhere.
On one of my birthdays, the whole family went to try out a new hot spring resort in Los Banos. We were with my Mom's colleagues from La Salle, an extra treat for me since I had the biggest crush on my Mom's best friend's son, and he was THERE! I also remember a spontanoeus trip up North somewhere for Haya's birthday. We just piled into the car and drove with no apparent destination, finding ourselves at the North Expressway and ending up in Tarlac (or was it Bulacan?), where we checked into some roadside inn and explored the immediate vicinity. For Haya's birthday meal, we had an exotic repast of venison and baboy damo (wild boar) in May Farm, a restaurant compound owned and run by a hunter in Bamban, Tarlac. My Mom was always "game" when it came to new experiences (pardon the pun)!
During another memorable celebration, Mom treated us by checking the whole family into the Manila Peninsula for Maya's birthday. This happened during the weekend of the infamous "ash fall", right after Mt. Pinatubo's eruption. By then, I was already a weekend news anchor for RPN News. I remember the slow, nerve-wracking drive from Makati to Broadcast City, amid blinding ash and soot. Of course, I had the misfortune of choosing a black outfit for that particular newscast. By the time I got to Channel 9, I looked like I had just rolled in a sack of cement. Back then, my wardrobe was sponsored by SM, and I was allowed to keep one set of clothes per month. Guess what outfit I was forced to keep that month?
The last time I celebrated my birthday with my Mom was six years ago. We were in Miami at the time, and we had dinner at Martha's, our favorite waterfront restaurant in Dania. I was in Miami to finalize my divorce, and Lorenzo flew in fresh from a fashion show in New York to lend me some moral support. It was the first meeting between my Mom and Lorenzo, but despite her initial misgivings, she remained polite and gracious during dinner. By the end of the evening, I could see that Lorenzo had won my Mom's approval, and I was quietly grateful that she gave him a chance, by getting to know him before passing judgment.
As I look back at these birthday memories, I realize how much my Mom was a part of them. And I am thankful that I inherited the same reverence and esteem for birthdays which my Mom displayed when we were growing up. There's no denying it: I'm a sucker for birthdays. I got it from my Mom.
I think my enthusiasm for celebrating birthdays is so catching, it's rubbing off on the rest of the Serenos. My in-laws now find themselves throwing parties for their children too, and there was even a time when we planned monthly family pot lucks to celebrate everyone's birthdays. Considering my parents-in-law have 6 children and 16 granchildren (soon to be 17, when my daughter is born) there is always someone's birthday to celebrate at any given month.
It wasn't always like this. One of the saddest stories I'd heard was when everybody forgot it was Lorenzo's birthday. He ended up making pansit himself and bringing it to his parents' house along with a store-bought cake. They were surprised to see him, initially not knowing why he came over with food. When I first heard this story, I couldn't believe my mother-in-law failed to remember her own son's birthday. What I found even more unconscionable was the fact that Lorenzo's own WIFE at the time had also forgotten his birthday! Whenever I am reminded of this, I always give my husband a hug. I guess this is my way of reassuring him that this would NEVER happen again, to him OR to any of my kids, for as long as I'm around.
I guess this is another reason I now find myself making a big deal out of my sons' birthdays. Like my Mom before me, I just love the thought of celebrating another year added to their lives. In honor of my Mom, I want my kids' birthday memories to be just as happy as mine.
In fact, I've kept a lot of my remembered traditions alive in my present family. Foremost of these is the all-important birthday cake. I make it a point to have Lance and Troy choose their cakes well in advance. This makes them look forward to their parties even more. So far, Lance has already chosen Winnie the Pooh, Teletubbies and Thomas the Tank Engine, with a dinosaur cake lined up for his next birthday. Troy, on the other hand, has had Elmo and Blue's Clues birthday cakes. When he turns three this coming July, I think I'll do Harry Potter. Troy loves Harry Potter. In fact, when he sees a kid he doesn't particularly like, he points an imaginary wand at him, uttering that terrifying spell, "Eat slugs!"
And then there are the parties themselves. Lance's last birthday was held after school in Del Taco. For Troy's celebration, I am already planning a Harry Potter movie party. Since the next Harry Potter film will be coming out in June, the lines shouldn't be too bad by the time Troy's birthday, July 17, comes along. We'll probably invite a few cousins and friends to see the movie with us, proceeding to the theater's party room for cake and ice cream after.
I usually have a swimming party for Troy, with his birthday right in the middle of summer, but this year, I'll think I'll push the swimming party a month back, in time for Lorenzo's 35th birthday on August 13. Come July, I'll still have my hands full with our new baby daughter, Reana Loren, due to arrive on June 1. It's hard to believe that in six weeks' time, we'll have a new life to celebrate. Another birthday to commemorate with each passing year.
And so I honor the person who gave me life, even as I wait for another life to spring from my own.
Happy Birthday, Mom. May this birthday bring you much happiness, just as you strove to make us happy for our birthdays, many, many years ago.
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