Faith Restored


Anyone who knows me like family is fully aware of my fear of hospitals, doctors, injections, and almost any health-related stuff for that matter. It was because of a traumatic experience at the hospital when I was barely two years old. Ever since I can remember, I would get chills and palpitations whenever I’m inside a hospital.

To cope with it, I have already decided since the start of my pregnancy to visit my OB at her home clinic and not at the hospital, despite the wonderful airconditioning system hospitals provided. 😉

I’ve been on and off a bad cough for a few months now, and while the first few weeks weren’t quite alarming as I was just advised to drink plenty of water and eat citrus fruits, these days proved to be more dreadful because of the merciless summer heat and my growing tummy that gets way too painful whenever I cough.

This is the first time I’ve had a cough that lasted more than a month. You don’t call it a viral infection anymore — so my nurse friends say, but I was so afraid to be prescribed of antibiotics because we know how expectant mothers shouldn’t take them, right?

Anyway, since I’m already 22 weeks on the way, I decided to just visit a pulmonologist and get this cough over with. I was supposed to go to the doctor last Wednesday, but was disappointed that the doctor had such an early cutoff. Imagine, his clinic hours were 4pm to 6pm, but all slots were already filled by 4:15!

You know how two people are not meant to meet each other? Well, that’s me and that doctor.

Which proved to be the best for scaredy-cat me after all.

For someone who’s afraid of hospitals, checkups are the biggest challenges.

Today I went to the hospital 15 minutes earlier than the doctor’s clinic hours. I’ve had an awful experience with the HMO, so I took care of that first. So far, so good. Got my form in a matter of minutes.

I went to the doctor’s clinic and was relieved that there were only 7 patients before me and clinic hours were far from over. The best part? The waiting area was airconditioned and was just the right temperature for me. You see, that floor is divided into two — the airconditioned area and the natural air-ventilated area. And for some reason, the doctor I was supposed to visit early in the week was in the less comfortable side.

Upon consultation with the doctor, who has aged beautifully from my first consultation with her 5 years ago, I was kinda sure she was keeping herself from giving me a good scolding. “3 months ka nang inuubo, tapos tubig at fruits ka lang?!” Err, uhm… 😅😂 It was like getting reprimanded by my grandma who’s a former teacher. It feels good getting scolded by grandmothers sometimes. I think it was mainly because I was pregnant that pissed her off. 😂

After a series of inhale-exhales, the doctor told me to get an X-ray; she said I didn’t have to worry because the baby’s already five months in my tummy. I asked for approval at the HMO, and for the second time, it was unbelievably quick of them to release the form.

I went to the radiology department and was warmly accommodated by the staff who told me to wait outside X-ray Room 1. The attending technician approached me and asked if I was the pregnant patient. She was so kind as to provide me with 3 levels of shield, as I would like to call it, to cover my tummy from radiation. She was also talking to me throughout the procedure which made me feel more at ease.

Right after the x-ray, the technician told me to get the results on Monday, 5 pm. I responded with a hesitant, “Ay, sa Monday pa…” I guess she had a hunch that my pulmo wanted the results today, so she told me that she would just have the results printed out in a few minutes.

At that moment, I just thought, Wow, where’s all this favor coming from? 

For some reason, I suddenly had the urge to take a look at the shirt I was wearing, then it struck me. On it was written: I AM A CHILD OF GOD in Chasing Embers font. Of course! How could I forget? Being a child of God means being highly favored — that I am sure of.

Out came my x-ray results. The whole procedure, including the waiting, took only 20 minutes. There’s God’s favor right there. I went back to the doctor with less worries.

The doctor looked at the print out and muttered, “Okay naman pala…” Man, those words were the only ones I needed to hear. 😏 Plus, her mood has already lightened up. Haha. I was expecting my asthma had come back to haunt me — thank God it didn’t. I was prescribed with an antibiotic, Cefuroxime, which was generally safe for pregnant women, and Fluimucil, one of the best medications I’ve had in my life. 😁 

I went out of the clinic with a smile plastered on my face — a smile of relief, one might think, but it was actually a smile of gratefulness. God has indeed placed His hand on every part of my hospital experience today. Not only has He reminded me of His sovereignty in my life, He has also been gradually restoring my faith in doctors, hospitals, and hospital staff. ❤

Before the x-ray procedure, I was scared for my baby as much as I was for my traumatized self. But after the whole ordeal-turned-faith-restoration-process, if you ask me, now I am fully certain that my baby will be a bouncy and healthy one. How do I know? Because I am a child of God. 


Ending My 8-Week Struggle


If there is one thing I am not prepared for at this moment, it is motherhood.

Please don’t mistake my unpreparedness for not wanting to have a child. I do want to have children. In fact, I’ve got their names listed already, just in case Jets forgets them or their spellings.

My struggle started in December when I started experiencing different kinds of pain in my body. I thought I was just going to have my period, but it didn’t come. I scratched off the thought of being pregnant, because hey, we were very careful, and I was wary enough to take note of my fertile period. No way, I said to myself, it was too early.

However, as much as I wanted not to be pregnant, all those cravings came rather frequently. I still thought it was just a sign of PMS. One time, I badly wanted a burger from The Black Apartment. I went there with the husband hungry and excited. We even ordered buffalo wings because we were that famished. Our orders came, and after finishing half of my burger, the patty lost its appeal and I just didn’t want to eat anymore. It was rather unusual because I could usually finish a TBA burger no matter how big it was.

Chopsuey, on the other hand, is the one thing I didn’t want to get near to — chopsuey from Foods ‘R’ Us, to be specific. Just the thought of it made be nauseous. Aaaargh, these hormones!

January came and I still didn’t have my period. I felt that something was growing inside me, not to mention all the discomforts that came with it. I googled everything I was feeling, and indeed, they were signs of pregnancy. Would you believe I even incurred patchy alopecia areata, and it was also a sign of pregnancy?

Oh, it was the hardest time of my life. For four weeks, nobody knew, all because I had a hard time accepting this reality.

Gradually, Jets noticed that I wasn’t having my monthly dysmenorrhea episodes and he began questioning me if I’ve had my period already. He was quite sure that I might be pregnant, so he was pushing me to take a pregnancy test. I tried to buy time and was fairly successful. I wanted to take the test when I was ready, even though I already had two PTs in my hands, courtesy of the school nurse.

Before taking the test, I wrestled with God — yes, the same wrestling Jacob experienced. My devotions in Hebrews were a constant reminder to put my full trust in the Lord, but I was still in denial. I tried to reason with God that with the monthly income that we have, we are not capable of giving our baby the best of everything. It was all I was worried about — how we didn’t have enough. I mean, we could barely get through a month’s expenses. How much more if there was an addition to the family?

The hardest part these past weeks was knowing exactly the key to ending my struggle but not being able to apply it because my fears were larger than my faith.

But God never gave up on me. He continued to encourage me through my devotions.

Jesus is the same always. – Heb 1:12

God helps His children. – Heb. 2:16

Fix your thoughts on Jesus. Do not harden your heart. – Heb 3:1,7

When the Lord makes a promise, He never changes His mind. – Heb. 7:21

Leave without knowing where to go. – Heb. 11:8

Those who have faith will enter God’s rest. – Heb. 4:3

And that was it. I was struggling because I didn’t have faith. I couldn’t sleep and be at peace because I didn’t trust God enough to let Him do His work in my life.

My struggle was not about how I was scared and unprepared for the coming of a baby. My struggle was about faith — faith that I failed to put into action. I let the control freak in me overcome my gift to move mountains. Because I was so engrossed with setting everything in place, I soon forgot that God’s will should first be in place, and everything would just follow.

I ended my faith struggle with a larger faith – a faith that allows my plans to be shaken and my life to be messy and disorganized.

On January 27, I took the test and accepted that I was indeed pregnant.


On January 30, Jets’ birthday, we went to the doctor for a check-up. It was my birthday gift to him, because he was very excited to have a baby. The doctor suggested to have an ultrasound because, she said, she couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat.


I didn’t know what to feel, but I went in anyway and had my very first ultrasound. I even asked Jets to come with me since I wanted him to get everything the doctor says.

As I looked at the monitor, the doctor pointed at the sac and the embryo. I thought I was smiling that time, seeing that tiny dot inside my tummy.


The sonologist called Jets in so she could explain it further. I saw the look on his face as the doctor pointed at the embryo — it was priceless. That’s when I realized that I could actually go through all this, even the pain of child-bearing, if it meant seeing my husband’s incomparable joy every single day.

However, his facial expression slowly turned from hopeful to hopeless, as the doctor explained that the embryo had no heartbeat, no cardiac activity.


My ultrasound results.

I was emotionless, but I felt the devastation that came upon Jets that exact time.

It’s been 2 days since that check-up, and it’s almost like my conscience is telling me that it’s my fault — that the baby didn’t have a heartbeat because I didn’t want it first.

I don’t know what will happen next, but right now, I am just fixing my eyes on Jesus, overlooking all my struggles, worries, and fears. Whatever the Lord allows to happen, I think He has already prepared me with a larger, more encompassing faith than before.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith… – Heb. 12:2a

PS. As of posting today, February 5, the embryo came out this morning after a 3-hour contraction. It was the most grueling 3 hours of my life, and Jets wasn’t even home. But God is good — He helped me through it.

Tomorrow, we will be going to my OB for her next advice regarding my condition. Thank you for all your prayers. God has other plans, and we know they’re for the better. 😄