Will you marry me?

Someone once told me that a relationship is made up of two whole individuals, not partners seeking to be made complete by each other. When CLN (my dear fiance) came, I wasn't whole yet; I was a work in progress. I have gone through a lot of pain, resentment and bitterness, but I prayed for God to make me whole again and to let me rise anew. He, too, was a work in progress, dealing with his own battles. So we individually worked on a better version of ourselves. Hence, even in one's brokenness, one deserves to be loved and to love wholly. In our case, we may still be not the best, but we have become definitely better--by learning and growing together.

Over the years...he loves me in whatever hairstyle or size I come

"Good things come to those who wait. Better things come to those who pray while waiting." When CLN and I met, I did not pray for God to make him my future husband. Instead I prayed for God to make me the kind of wife that my future husband would like to marry someday.

2.14.14--Three years later, CLN popped the question, much to my joy and surprise, perhaps because I couldn't believe that the moment has finally come. I may still be a work in progress towards becoming the wife deserving of the husband that the Lord has reserved for me, but my heart rejoices in the fact that the Lord indeed makes everything beautiful in His time. I couldn't ask for a better proposal than one done inside the Church. On Valentine's Day. With a rose and a ring and a beautiful smile from my husband-to-be. Just like how CLN proposed to me.

The rose with a special surprise inside

I'm glad I stopped searching for my prince charming and allowed God to work, because love found me when I started looking inward instead of outward; when I stopped looking for what is missing and started being grateful for what I have; when I stopped throwing questions and doubts and instead started trusting in His ways.

CLN & KFC always and forever

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with more than I deserve. I say YES with much pride and gratitude to the man that You have wonderfully made for me. Yes na yes!

Hands-on Mom

(MAY 6, 2008 ENTRY)

Taking care of my baby right after giving birth sure was not easy. To start with, I found it difficult to rise from bed because of the contractions of the uterus (in case you’re wondering, the uterus contracts in order to return to its normal size). My lower torso was aching, my trips to the C.R. were torture, I didn’t have much of an appetite---I felt like every inch of my body was painful. And because I gave birth when school still was not over, I did not have my younger sisters to help me in taking care of my baby. It was just me.

Yes, it was scary, really scary. Sometimes I would cry when I did not know how to make her stop crying, or when I felt the pain every time I breastfed. I could not anymore look after myself because I had to keep watch over the baby. I had to wash her feeding bottles just in case she was hungry again. I had to hold her firmly but gently because tiny babies still have soft bones. Once, at night, I asked help from my mother because she wouldn’t stop crying; little did I know that she was just feeling cold. And I would instantly begin to worry when she slept for only a short period of time.

I juggled household chores with taking care of my baby. I could not have any decent sleep because she would wake up in the middle of the night. For the first few weeks, she slept during the day and was awake at the wee hours of the morning, only going back to sleep at around 5 or 6 o’clock. It was stressful; it was unbelievable. And when I would start counting the days, I’d realize that there’s still a long, long way to go.

Then came the responsibility of buying my baby’s necessities. The milk alone costs a fortune, and sometimes when she could not finish up her milk, I had to throw away the leftover after a few hours, and it would feel like pouring gold down the drain.

It was difficult at first, but then I learned to adjust. It’s ok to feel frustrated, or incompetent. Until now I feel that I could not measure up to the kind of care that my mother has given us. But that’s ok. At least I know that I’m doing my best. And when our baby grows up, I’d be really proud to tell her the difficulty that her mommy went through. And that it was done out of love.