Baby No More
After two hours of painful labor and one final vigorous push Marielle was finally out into the world early morning of September 28, 1997. Weighing 6 lbs she was so tiny, pink and round. She was a healthy baby girl. I remember while the midwife was sewing me up my baby was placed in a crib near me already clean and wrapped in a flannel cloth. Her little eyes were barely open. She was awake but very quiet as if patiently waiting for the nurse to bring her to my side.
It still feels like yesterday when I bathed her in a tiny basin or in the sink, taught her how to walk and talk, washed her bottles and changed her diapers every single night and day. Those many sleepless nights I had when she woke me up with her cries because she was hungry, wet or in pain was like a never ending torment. Now I’m happy to say, “been there, done that.” Unless of course God would bless me with another one.
But few months back in my eight-year old daughter’s bedroom I asked her “how’s school today, baby?” “Mom, don’t call me baby. I’m not a baby anymore” she answered with a hint of irritation. I couldn’t believe my ears when she said that. It saddened my heart. I told her that she’ll forever be my baby girl just as Marc will forever be my baby boy even when they’re going to have their own children someday.
After that day I took more notice of how Marielle has grown and changed. She has grown taller with a body frame like mine when I was her age. She’s starting to learn to be independent too. Oftentimes she just does what she knows she has to do. One example is now she’s the one who decides what to wear to school and I’m surprised that she's good in mix matching her clothes. She’s also getting conscious about how she looks. There are times when she bugs me with “Mom, is my hair okay?” and “can I borrow your face powder?” At eight, I don’t remember I was as self-conscious as she is now.
Crush
Marielle has also become aware of the boys. She has intimated to me that she has a crush on one of her classmates. In fact one day at school she excitedly tugged me aside and pointed at this boy saying “Mom, that’s him, Angel!” which I was sure the boy saw what she did. Embarrassed for her, I sarcastically said, “hello, cant you get more obvious than that?” And I can’t believe when she asked me one time if she could have her hair permed because Angel likes girls with curly hair.
Even if I know it’s completely normal because it’s part of growing up I don’t encourage it. I mean, I think teasing her or be giddy with her when she talks about this boy would only make her think that I’m okay with it. I don’t want her to think I’m against it either. The truth is I don’t know exactly how to deal with it. From my own experience I know it’s a fleeting thing. I just told her that it’s okay to like somebody and maybe the reason why she specially likes Angel is because he’s nice to her. Every now and then I ask her about him just to make her feel comfortable about sharing with me the matters of her heart. I want her to grow up that way – to regard me as her friend and confidante.
Bra
Another realization of her growing into a little lady comes from the fact that lately I’ve been busy browsing for kiddie bras at Walmart. I’ve noticed her “two little buddies” have become a little bit too conspicuous especially when she wears a light colored cotton shirt. I bought her seven pieces which as I expected got her so deliriously happy. Imagine a little girl who’s been trying on my bras while pretending she was Betty Boop. She was like, “wow, I’m wearing bra now?!”
It kind of reminds me of my very conservative grannie who made me wear half slip when I was in second grade. I felt like a grown up and thought it was cool. And there I was playing my favorite Chinese-garter not minding my playmates’ queer look at my undie. I didn’t know it was a big deal but it spread like fire. The next day school kids were calling me lola. That was cruel. But I’m sure Marielle wont experience the same thing. I’ve observed that many American girls her age are already quite developed in that “area” so wearing bra at 8 is nothing unusual.
Flower
Marielle is really getting more curious about her own body. One time she was in the shower and I told her, “O don’t forget to clean your kili-kili, your pwet and your flower.” When she was done she asked, “Mom, you keep saying flower, what is it really called?” Her question dumbfounded me. At that time blurting out the word vagina was just hard to do. And no way was I going to tell her its dysphemisms. So I said I would tell her when she has dressed up but I never really did. I’m probably bad for not telling her what it’s really called. That incident actually made me laugh. I told Dean about it and he said, “well, I’m sure glad she didn’t ask me.”
Sex
I knew sooner or later, she was gonna ask me this, “Mom, what is sex?” I think this happened two months ago. I was busy with the curtain I was making when out of the blue she asked the question. I wasn’t only dumbfounded. I was flabbergasted. Pretending I didn’t understand what she was asking about I said, “well, you know …male or female.” “Mom, what is it?” she asked again. And because I really didn’t know how to answer it, I went, “Hmm, teka …ano nga ba ang sex?” while looking at the ceiling. Then she said, “Oh I know what it is.” Curious and a bit nervous I said, “really? what is it?” “It’s when you are married and you become pregnant.” With a sigh of relief I smiled at her and said, “Naku, you are so right. It’s something that only married couples do. And just when I thought she was over with the subject, she asked again, “Mom, what is sex really?” At that point I sensed she wanted to know its anatomy so I just told her, “You know what, that’s a long discussion and as you see, I’m trying to finish your curtain. Can we talk about that some other time?” And I was glad she said okay.
Marielle and Marc are indeed growing up so fast. Oftentimes I catch myself staring at them and realizing that they really are not babies anymore. But the truth is even if they don’t like being called baby anymore they still like being babied.
It still feels like yesterday when I bathed her in a tiny basin or in the sink, taught her how to walk and talk, washed her bottles and changed her diapers every single night and day. Those many sleepless nights I had when she woke me up with her cries because she was hungry, wet or in pain was like a never ending torment. Now I’m happy to say, “been there, done that.” Unless of course God would bless me with another one.
But few months back in my eight-year old daughter’s bedroom I asked her “how’s school today, baby?” “Mom, don’t call me baby. I’m not a baby anymore” she answered with a hint of irritation. I couldn’t believe my ears when she said that. It saddened my heart. I told her that she’ll forever be my baby girl just as Marc will forever be my baby boy even when they’re going to have their own children someday.
After that day I took more notice of how Marielle has grown and changed. She has grown taller with a body frame like mine when I was her age. She’s starting to learn to be independent too. Oftentimes she just does what she knows she has to do. One example is now she’s the one who decides what to wear to school and I’m surprised that she's good in mix matching her clothes. She’s also getting conscious about how she looks. There are times when she bugs me with “Mom, is my hair okay?” and “can I borrow your face powder?” At eight, I don’t remember I was as self-conscious as she is now.
Crush
Marielle has also become aware of the boys. She has intimated to me that she has a crush on one of her classmates. In fact one day at school she excitedly tugged me aside and pointed at this boy saying “Mom, that’s him, Angel!” which I was sure the boy saw what she did. Embarrassed for her, I sarcastically said, “hello, cant you get more obvious than that?” And I can’t believe when she asked me one time if she could have her hair permed because Angel likes girls with curly hair.
Even if I know it’s completely normal because it’s part of growing up I don’t encourage it. I mean, I think teasing her or be giddy with her when she talks about this boy would only make her think that I’m okay with it. I don’t want her to think I’m against it either. The truth is I don’t know exactly how to deal with it. From my own experience I know it’s a fleeting thing. I just told her that it’s okay to like somebody and maybe the reason why she specially likes Angel is because he’s nice to her. Every now and then I ask her about him just to make her feel comfortable about sharing with me the matters of her heart. I want her to grow up that way – to regard me as her friend and confidante.
Bra
Another realization of her growing into a little lady comes from the fact that lately I’ve been busy browsing for kiddie bras at Walmart. I’ve noticed her “two little buddies” have become a little bit too conspicuous especially when she wears a light colored cotton shirt. I bought her seven pieces which as I expected got her so deliriously happy. Imagine a little girl who’s been trying on my bras while pretending she was Betty Boop. She was like, “wow, I’m wearing bra now?!”
It kind of reminds me of my very conservative grannie who made me wear half slip when I was in second grade. I felt like a grown up and thought it was cool. And there I was playing my favorite Chinese-garter not minding my playmates’ queer look at my undie. I didn’t know it was a big deal but it spread like fire. The next day school kids were calling me lola. That was cruel. But I’m sure Marielle wont experience the same thing. I’ve observed that many American girls her age are already quite developed in that “area” so wearing bra at 8 is nothing unusual.
Flower
Marielle is really getting more curious about her own body. One time she was in the shower and I told her, “O don’t forget to clean your kili-kili, your pwet and your flower.” When she was done she asked, “Mom, you keep saying flower, what is it really called?” Her question dumbfounded me. At that time blurting out the word vagina was just hard to do. And no way was I going to tell her its dysphemisms. So I said I would tell her when she has dressed up but I never really did. I’m probably bad for not telling her what it’s really called. That incident actually made me laugh. I told Dean about it and he said, “well, I’m sure glad she didn’t ask me.”
Sex
I knew sooner or later, she was gonna ask me this, “Mom, what is sex?” I think this happened two months ago. I was busy with the curtain I was making when out of the blue she asked the question. I wasn’t only dumbfounded. I was flabbergasted. Pretending I didn’t understand what she was asking about I said, “well, you know …male or female.” “Mom, what is it?” she asked again. And because I really didn’t know how to answer it, I went, “Hmm, teka …ano nga ba ang sex?” while looking at the ceiling. Then she said, “Oh I know what it is.” Curious and a bit nervous I said, “really? what is it?” “It’s when you are married and you become pregnant.” With a sigh of relief I smiled at her and said, “Naku, you are so right. It’s something that only married couples do. And just when I thought she was over with the subject, she asked again, “Mom, what is sex really?” At that point I sensed she wanted to know its anatomy so I just told her, “You know what, that’s a long discussion and as you see, I’m trying to finish your curtain. Can we talk about that some other time?” And I was glad she said okay.
Marielle and Marc are indeed growing up so fast. Oftentimes I catch myself staring at them and realizing that they really are not babies anymore. But the truth is even if they don’t like being called baby anymore they still like being babied.
