Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part2: The Babylove

There was so much to look forward to for April. Aside from the boy turning a year old, Game of Thrones season 4 was rolling in. If HBO does keep it going for 8 seasons (and if they can finish the story by then) that means we're halfway through!

While we have been letting him watch some episodes with us, he's started protesting against the blood and gore. It's made us realize several things:

1. He's going to vote eventually.

2. GoT isn't for small summer children. Must change child's bedtime to Before-We-Start-Watching O'Clock.

3. We have a small child who will someday learn the ways of the world.

4. We will have a teenager who will snicker at his "Throner" parents the way I did my late Trekkie dad.

While this boy is still a decade and some away from being that teenager, we've compiled blackmail material clips of his year so far. Warning: has maternal nudity. NSFW

The year certainly felt longer than these 15 minutes, and every moment of it was magical. We're starting to get the hang of this parenting business too.

His developing personality is fun to discover. If he can go somewhere, or get into something by himself, he will try first (and probably fall and recover many times) before ever asking for help. This could be a bad thing and a good thing.

He's learned how to mock cry, to threaten us (with his fingers dangling precariously close to the electric sockets), to put his fingers in my mouth when we're crying/singing/waking up.

He's learned that cats are mimings, and that pictures in books and screens of cats are also mimings, but he hasn't learned that dogs are not mimings.

He waves goodbye enthusiastically when it's time to go. He waves goodbye even more enthusiastically when he WANTS to go (regardless of whether it is time to go or no).

And he absolutely loves water.

And we love you little man.

Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part1: The Party

We had a full month. I'm not even kidding. We moved houses, sold food at two different fairs, planned the birthday party, had the birthday party (and several surprise parties after from different people).

As for the birthday party...

Paperless and free! Yay for evite.com

We made edible nontoxic paints.

I swear it was only food coloring and flour.

the older kids went along, but I have to admit this was too kindergarten for some.

the smaller ones were totally down.

absolutely down.

 Parents played along too.

Squishy!

And then Malaya woke up. By this point, the paints had already been set aside and everyone was done washing up. So all there was left was to sing birthday songs for the celebrants.

Superman cake c/o Tita Arlene Villa

Another little lady was turning 9 in 3 days, so there was no way she was not getting to blow her own candle.

We sang for Malaya and April, and then they blew out their candles.

Malaya got a little help blowing his candle out from Lola Nanay. His "One" shirt was sent over by the Mamita.

We strung paper circles together for curtains. The paper was c/o magazines my friends offered for sacrifice.

We had a chocolate fountain (c/o T&C Rental) , fruits (c/o Kit and Lolo Jumbo!), lots of cake, pancit, Lola Nanay's chicken lollipops and Tito Mark's mango float for the tykes... 

... and had food catered for the adults c/o RTCM Catering. They were nice enough to make some servings vegetarian-friendly. 

Piñata time!

no palayok? no problem.

party wasn't even halfway through but the celebrants were pooped.

After the small kids went home with goody bags full of the fingerpaint, artwork and candy (sorry parents), the big big kids started playing board games and breaking the booze out.

I blew out 25 candles in a party dress that woulda made my 5-year old self proud.

We also screened a compilation we made of Malaya's first year, which will be up in another post.

Thank you Mamita, Lola Nanay, Lolo Ely, Lola Mama, Lolo Bill, and a handful of benefactors for your contributions to this bash. Yay for grandparents! Thank you also to the friends and family who came and brought gifts for the little boy. Yay for ninongs and ninangs!

Photos were by Eva Marie Gamboa of Picture Trail Studios.

For the rest of this post (CHEESiness! NSFWness!), click me.

Boom! We have a toddler (9 10 and 11 months).

If I haven't updated in a while, I have a whole bag of excuses:

1. We're moving. The lot our apartment's on is being sold, and our friends are moving out of their awesome split level rental, so we're taking advantage. I was a little sad when we found out about the lot. All my hopes and dreams of prettifying this place have been dashed to the ground forever. The other house has lots of potential. It's stuck in the 70's, with the dark brown moulding and kitchen cabinets, the varnished wood panelling, the beige everything else... with a little paint and some DIY furniture projects, we could totally go Scandinavian on the interiors.

Speaking of which...

We'll be selling old clothes, baby stuff, Xbox games (and Xbox), furniture, baked goods, etc etc.

If you want to check out the garage sale, email me at mutangpusa@gmail.com and I'll send you a map.

We move there in time for the boy's first birthday too (and my 25th, hurrah!). The partner and I've decided a beach party with grilling might be too much trouble for very very small children to enjoy. Transportation and safety are issues. So we'll have one at the house, which could also double as a house warming party. There's lots of roaming space, and it's in a safe neighborhood in case he runs out of the house and into moving vehicle space.

Apparently, there are two schools of thought in this part of the world regarding first birthday parties. One is that it's pointless because baby won't even remember. The other is that the party is for the adults, and it should be as grand as grand can get, kinda to celebrate that the baby survived the fragile first year.

Lam-ang tells it like it is.

2. Malaya's nanny went on maternity leave (she gave birth to a baby girl! woot!) right when he started roaming the "vast" apartment, deliberately getting into things he's not supposed to.

So much for productivity.

My mommy resolutions for 2014

Tita Hani Lei's doing this month-long challenge of not saying the word "busy" so I can't say the b-word. Ive been... Pre-occupied (nyahaha, nakalusot).

We didn't do much for new year. The boy nursed through midnight fireworks. I heard gun shots somewhere in the distance and we thought it would be better to stay alive for another year so we burrowed indoors. How did you guys do? Anyone lose a finger? 


2013 was dark and dismal for a lot of us, save for the human being that this blog has been about for the last 10 months.

I haven't had a lot of energy since being a mom and I can't say I've been in very good shape. So the overarching resolution is to be more productive, and to create an environment, mindset, and physique that would be more conducive to carrying Malaya productivity.

Simply put, I want to be a better mommy. Here's how I plan to improve:

Postpartum Past 3 Months (ranty, but not really)

I'm exhausted. They weren't kidding about the sleepless nights. I'm less exhausted than I was during his first month, when I would dream about REM sleep *rimshot* while I nursed him every hour or two. These days, he sleeps through the night, nudging me only thrice throughout for snacks here and there. Sleeplessness can get you on the edge, especially when you have no choice over the matter. It's a little like staying up cramming for exams the next day, except if you snooze, your kid loses. And if your kid loses, oh woe le guilty mom.

The occasional internal outcries of "I want my life back" are muted in the collective wail of hundreds of other first time mothers, and in the collective "Told you so"s by veterans. Remember when blogging was only beginning to become a thing? And most blogs were just rant-fests by angst-ridden pre-teens (hello and goodbye tabulas)? This phenomena shortly led to the Emo subculture. The emo subculture led to just generally not taking suicide seriously.

I learned CHILD REARING is the great sacrifice women bear. NOT Child Bearing as I so naively assumed. Child Bearing, as it turns out, is only the beginning.

I won't lie. This blog isn't a rosy press release of the adventures of M. Linaban and co. I'm tired and depressed. A year ago, I wept over losing my freedom. I was right AND wrong.

3 Months (and rude topics like child rearing practices and money)!

The boy is now 13 lbs. Doesn't sleep on my chest much anymore, probably because he won't fit. He's a handful. He smiles at us in the mornings, goes "eyo" when he wants our attention, and he's been experimenting with the Oohs and Aahs. Sometimes, he leads me when he wants to be sung to sleep. Such a bag of delightful noise this creature is turning out to be.

Observe:

And he LOVES going outside. Seems like he has cabin fever all the time. He loves going out and engaging strangers in the mall; passengers on the jeep; construction workers on the truck beside the jeep; etc. One day at the mall CR, I was hunched over the baby bag to get something. When I turned, someone was already shaking his hand. I blinked, and the whole room of girls were fawning over him.

Girls: Hi!!
Malaya: Hai
Girls: *screaming*

Oh Malaya, you ham you.

To Vaccinate or Not to Vaccinate, and other misadventures the doctor probably needs to know about.

It's flu season.

*cue thunder & lightning*

The partner and I've been sneezing and sniffling and consuming rolls and rolls of tissue.

And the baby?

Nose is still congested, but he isn't as bad as his parental units. Also, we're both battling thrush. More on that later.

Have I mentioned we haven't gotten him vaccinated yet? When you need to research the hell out of every single thing your kid is going to go through (or yourself, whatever floats your boat), you really will take forever to do everything.

So, at a week before 3 months, the boy finally got his first shot. The BCG shot is for Tuberculosis, and is supposed to be the least dangerous. In any case, this was the pediatrician of the father creature who claims he never needed to go to the hospital for anything.

At the clinic, the doctor said he remembered Chris as a boy, that he was "boki kaayo", which I guess is Cutese for "he was really fat".

Pedia also said Malaya takes after Chris. I'd like to raise an argument against this point:

Proof

Except for his coloring, eyes, and facial expressions, baby takes after me! Also, check out le partner's baby-fro. Adorbz. :3

Ok, maybe coloring, eyes and facial expression make up 50%.

And then it was time for the shot. He cried a bit, and was okay the next minute. We were feeling pretty awesome.

Until 12 hours later, when Malaya was wailing like a little freshly-orphaned boy. We were dying from his misery. We almost needed to use the earplugs Lolo Lem gave us.

The quest for the ultimate stroller (Part 1)!!!

While the sling's been working swell, the swing bearer has not. The boy's gotten a taste for travel too. When we're in the room, he kicks to signal that he wants up and looks to the door. It's hard NOT to succumb to the boy's wishes when he does this to you:

Compelling, isn't it?

And because of the decision to stay yaya-less, we bring him wherever we go. Needless to say, it's time we started looking for a stroller.

To be honest, baby wearing is great. You can commute via jeepney easily when you're carrying a sling around rather than a baby PLUS a stroller.

But for those times when terrain is going to be mostly pavement, and you have to lug other baggage around, a stroller sounds wonderful.

And while it IS tempting to be cheap, this is The Stroller. This item will see about 2-3 years of abuse, and probably another 2 to 3 years after.

Not that we're planning a follow up soon.

*cough*

...so began our quest for The Stroller.

Considerations:

• Must be good for all sorts of terrain (specially since the road outside the house is under repairs, and since elections are over, Malaya might be walking before the project is done).
• Must fold easily.
• Must be lightweight enough to carry around during travel.
• Must be able to hold an infant from 3 months to 3 years old.
• Must look metal. \m/ (The daddy insists)

Pretty... impractical.

So online window shopping we went.

Careful, the whites of your eyes are showing. (Warning: Rant)

With the toilet clogged up, our little family went to the nearby mall to take advantage of the comfort lounge. As I waited for the partner to do his thing, I found myself seated between a very pregnant lady and her partner. The following conversation occurred:

Pregnant lady: I like! Where'd you buy? That's "in" naman these days (referring to the ring sling)
Me: It's a gift from the states
Pregnant lady: Oh? How much?
Me: $$, but you can get ring slings from Rustan's
Pregnant lady: But you can make that man noh? Just buy fabric and rings?
Me: Yeah, you can probably get fabric better suited for tropical weather...
Pregnant lady: Yeah, look at him, he's so comfortable. Nakagawas lang iyang tiil, luoy kaayo. ("His feet are just dangling, how pitiful")
Me: He's too big to fit naman.
Pregnant lady: Let's get ring and fabric nalang na? (referring to her partner, then turns to me, who tried to sit down but couldn't because Laya started protesting) Mas sayon pa jud makabreastfeed noh? ("Easier for breastfeeding yes?")
Me: Oo, pero malingaw na gani siya sa sling, di na pabutang. ("Yeah, but once he starts liking the sling, he won't ever want to be put down")
Pregnant lady: Kay nakagawas man iyang tiil, mapilo man. Luoy kaayo. Nabaptize na na siya? ("Because you let his feet dangle like that, it's folded in. How pitiful. Is he baptized yet?")
Me: Dili...pa ("Not... yet")
Pregnant lady: Ha? Unya gilaag laag na ninyo? Asa man ang daddy? ("What? And you take him out like that? Where's the dad?")
Pregnant lady's hubby: (to wife) Ok ra na, uso naman na ron. ("It's okay, that's common these days")
Me: Naa diha sa sulod. ("He's inside")
Pregnant lady: Didto na na natawo or diri na? ("Did you have him there or here?")
Me: Uh, naghomebirth ko... ("I had a homebirth...")
Pregnant lady: Ha?! Wa ka nahadlok ug infection?! ("What?! Weren't you afraid of infection?!" turns to husband rolling eyes)

Pisti Ka Pain

I noticed Laya had taken to snorting like a pig through feedings, without the expected porcine appetite the other day. We were set to go to the beach the next day for sunlight and saltwater to help heal my lady-parts. I thought we should pay the pedia a visit just to get the snorting and wheezing checked. He was diagnosed with mild pneumonia and sent to the hospital for antibiotics.

I, the big neurotic, broke down in mommy's office as we discussed what could have led to the pneumonia. He'd only had it for a day, so the waterbirth was ruled out. Maybe it was how he was always naked. Maybe it was how we lived in a nipa house in the mountains, where the summer sun baked us hot in the mornings, while the breeze blew us cold in the evenings. Maybe it was how mommy and daddy kept sneezing. Maybe it was how we were always generous with kisses. Maybe it was my laziness in burping him after feeding. Maybe it was the angle at which I was feeding him.

Argh. I feel like a bad mom. For all my naningness, it seemed I missed the obvious rules on newborn parenting. My own mom told me to pull myself together, that this was just the beginning.

After the IV was inserted, and the doctor administered a nasal spray, his appetite returned and the wheezing all but stopped. He still has mucous in his nostrils, and we're supposed to finish the antibiotics, so we're still here.

One of my aunts came to visit and noticed the IV stopped dripping, and there was a spot of blood on the bandages where the needle's supposed to be connected to a vein - all indications that the dextrose was no longer connected and needed to be reattached. I asked Chris to go with the nurse while reattachment was done.

Meanwhile, I sit here, cursing the world of pain Malaya is entering. Nevermind that he's only smiling through it and healing faster than expected.

I am honestly embarrassed by my wussiness in the face of my baby's pain. He's a strapping young fellow with an infectious laughter, never mind that we have no idea what he's laughing at (probably his neurotic mommy), why should I worry?

Man, how is this kid going to be able to ever do cool things like cliff diving; coconut tree climbing; bungee jumping; wolf wrestling; etc. etc. if mommy's afraid of a few bugs and needles?

I'm sorry baby. I need to work on these nerves of mine. I'm just glad you're not empathizing and crying out for me.

1 Week Old Malaya

Breastfeeding isn't as painful anymore. My angle was all wrong. It still hurts, specially when he clamps onto the nipple faster than I can get all of it in. Props to Ninong Jerome for linking me to the La Leche League Website. xD

No serene nursing photos for juu. At least not yet.

Chris and I ran out of clothes yesterday. Chris just packed light, while I didn't have too many shitproof/breastfeeding friendly clothes. Lola Diana suggested we leave the baby in her airconditioned office while we go Ukay-ukay crazy.

Spell separation anxiety. >.<

Postpartum Postsmartum Paranoia

There's something a lot of people leave out when they tell you about pregnancy - they don't tell you you'd feel like a Tikbalang had his way with you in the aftermath.

But if the Horse was Khal Drogo, it wouldn't be rape.

My. Whole. Body. Hurts.

They also don't say much about how difficult breastfeeding can be. Malaya doesn't have tongue tie. I just didn't know how to feed him. We're also still learning, and although the learning curve is painful, a rock hard breast is worse than a scratched nipple. VCO's been a wonderful nipple cream btw.

And much less likely were the chances of anyone warning me about how much of a hassle it is to bring around baby's still intact umbilical cord and placenta.

Week 38: Summer and Sugar

2 weeks left in the waiting game.

If I haven't been posting much, it's because the father creature has been keeping me sufficiently entertained. We've developed this game where we knock on the belly and baby knocks back. When he starts communicating in morse code, I'll let you know.

Braxton hicks contractions happen frequently, and there's been a significant increase in pelvic pain, specially in bed. The uterus feels like it's reached under my bust. It certainly hurts there now. Every morning the past week, I wake up in slight irritable pain wondering if it's going to be the day I lose my plug and meet my tenant.

Another new thing is a craving for the almighty halo halo.

It's a hot summer to say the least. If I didn't have the electric fan's constant attention, I'd melt in a pool of whale blubber faster than you can say "Chill".

Week 37: Any Day Now

Friends and colleagues from Cebu came to our town for a guerrilla public screening we put together at the municipal hall. Hence there being no updates since last week.

Baby's considered full term now. Baby watch begins this week til week 42. Father creature is staying with me til we're all patched up and ready to go back to Cebu. For the night is dark and full of terrors. The only time I feel like my old mobile self again is in the sea. Gravity is no friend of mine. Baby no longer kicks as much as he used to, but he does a lot of pushing around now. Daddy does this game with him that's almost like whac-a-mole whenever a baby ass or elbow or foot pushes against my belly.

this has never happened to us though.

There's nothing like waiting for a baby. We meet new people all the time, some of which become important to us. But with babies, you have 9 months of fair warning that your life is going to be changed forever. The closest thing I can compare this anticipation to is when you're waiting for a highly anticipated movie to appear on pirate bay. This feeling, multiplied a thousand times over.

I worry about meeting the baby. I'm not afraid of the birthing process, it's the aftermath that scares me. What if, for all this excitement, the actual meeting becomes anticlimactic? What if there's something wrong with my body, and I don't get that oxytocin cocktail skin-to-skin contact within the first hour of birth's supposed to bring? What if I haven't completely purged myself of expectation and get depressed that baby looks too much like the assholes I was pissed at during the first trimester? What if in my depression, I throw the kid to the pits?

Here's hoping kid's cool enough to survive.

I guess we'll see.

Week 36: Reflections on peeing on a stick

Homestretch folks!

Uncle Karl and Auntie Deanne took me to the beach yesterday. I enjoyed momentary weightlessness while they enjoyed real live National Geographic, watching a Dugong in its natural habitat.

My latest photo

I stopped waking up thirsty in the middle of the night. My hormones might have settled down. I don’t think baby’s dropped yet. I feel like he’s quickly losing space inside and protesting with fist raised. At least I think it’s his fist on my lower abdominal area, since the knife stab-like jabs to the rib from what is presumably his feet have become frequent, especially when I play him certain beat-based tunes. This week found us playing Alt-J (Thank you Tito Russ for the intro), which he’s very responsive to. Give this a listen:

No nursery rhymes for this boy. I enjoy watching my belly make waves throughout the song. It’s like I learned a new dance move without even trying. With all this movement though, baby has been cephalic presentation from the get-go and doesn't seem to want to make any major changes to that. I hope he doesn't suddenly turn at week 37 or summink.

In celebration of Easter and things-on-sticks, OffbeatFamilies posted the question of how women reacted to peeing on a stick andcoming up with the two lines.

I remember how mine went. While we were shooting Aberya, I was cranky, tired, constantly out-of-it, and very very emotional. Despite being hungry, my usual barbarian appetite was nonexistent. A month after shooting indefinitely wrapped, I was down with what I thought was ulcer.

Tinuohang Buktot

Today's Easter, celebration of rebirth and fertility for all sorts of denominations and my favorite goddess figure (Astarte). No matter what you believe in, everyone seems to want to get a piece of this celebration pie. The flavor is presumably egg.

Another reason to celebrate is that the boring days are over - baby's aunts and uncles are here for the holidays and are keeping me on the move. Island hopping is out of the question though, despite getting multiple invitations over the week to go T_T. Maternal lola's afraid that if I waterbirth in the middle of the sea, baby might escape and become Aquaman.

Sorry Aquaman, even my mom thinks you suck.

So far, we've trekked to the farm to get coconuts; failed at getting coconuts by getting distracted by guavas; tried not to get trampled on by horses; failed to acquire XP points by running away from every sound encountered on the hike back to the house after sundown (sorry bunch of adventurers are we); and marathoned season 2 of Game of Thrones in preparation for tomorrow's season 3 premiere. We'll probably get it on torrent a day after tomorrow, and thankfully the show runners don't mind. Yarr!

Since maternal lola's protests about the religiously offensive tone of my previous post, I decided to dedicate this post to being deliberately offensive of out dated belief, especially those regarding babies.

Pregnant Teens and Unwed Mommies: Another rant.

 I'm coming up with so many rants I should just make a whole new page dedicated to ranting.


I did the most horrible thing one can do in the 21st century to another person: I unfriended them on facebook.

It was over a status message he posted. I can't copypasta anymore since I did remove the dolt as soon as I read his post, but paraphrased, it went something like "Why do kids get pregnant younger and younger nowadays? Is TEET really that great? Boys are having TEET!"

I know half of the post didn't make sense, but I didn't like what it was implying, so instead of hiding him from my feed, I unfriended him. It wasn't a major loss since the person was really a work-related acquaintance rather than an actual friend. And if he was ranting about the ails of immoral under-aged coupling, maybe he wasn't such a valuable work-related resource for my lucrative career as a pornographer. Kidding.

I can't call myself a teen anymore, so why the reaction?

Of Gods and Amigurumi Monsters

I AM EARTH GODDESS!

(Repeat x number of times until completely deluded)

I'm on break from crochetry because my fingers are numb. I feel like my finger muscles got a little bit brawnier from my efforts, but doing it at night isn't doing much for my eyesight.

The insomnia is getting worse. Apart from baby's kicking, it's the water breaks and the bathroom runs that keep me up til the wee (whoops) hours of the morning. I'm just sooo thirsty at night.

The good news is that I've graduated from doilies and have moved on to beanies!

*Confetti*

I followed this tutorial. Coincidentally, the maternal lola got me material in around the same color.

For those of you too lazy to click the tutorial, this is the hat it's supposed to make:

This is my hat:

Anyone want a BJD-sized head-sock?

I learned too late about different sized yarns and hooks, and sadly, the kinds most online patterns require aren't widely available in this side of the country. T_T

Maternal lola was keeping me in the doily dark. T_T

So while I'm waiting on daddy-creature to get me the appropriate yarn for baby's stuff, I ended up looking for projects that I could use all this thread for, and I found Amigurumi.

Although most of the amigurumi patterns still ask for thicker yarns than the ones I have (worsted weighted as opposed to my flimsy size 8 crochet thread), you don't have to wear amigurumi, so it's fine to make miniature versions of the proposed projects.

Imo, the tinier versions are ADORABLE AS F*CK. Like Dobermans(men?) and mini pinschers; Pajeros and baby pajeros; Humans and babies.

One flower-filled night pre-baby, I thought maybe the nature of the divine is "Cute". Cuteness is universal. Have you ever seen a baby anything and not die from cuteness? Even animals cave in to cute:

I'd like to think that our Creation Gods are not the mighty Olympians who saw us as mites, but the tiny cells working away to grow us, the same way we build cities and become blind to the overall impact of our creations. As the father unit used to sing "The big bang never ended". As Ninong Ben put it, "In a way, that's what science is on to already- our cells all contain "programming". It would take a very tiny entity to program it! All the Whos down in Whoville?"

He's not even out yet, and everything I'm doing is already for this small would-be tyrant growing inside me. <3

As a tribute to the small Gods, I got to work on this:

Week 33: Dragon Baby Rising

Like you all said he would, baby's finally found my ribs. With his foot.

He's only ventured this far into my pain threshold once though. I'm probably just so bored that every little new thing he does excites me to the point of gushing over it online.

If it wasn't for this blog, this whole update would have just been one facebook status message: HOMAYGAD HE KICKED MY RIBS!! SO PROUD!!!11one

When he does this more frequently (in how many more days/weeks? Gulp), I expect it'll grow old quick and I'll be back to boredom. Boredom plus occasional rib jabs. That'll be new.

Speaking of boredom, I used to alternate between playing Civ 3 and Skyrim for most of the second trimester. After a faulty install, Civ 3 stopped loading. As for Skyrim, I shamefully admit that I can’t play it without Tito Raushan finishing instances for me anymore. The graphics and sound track freaks me out now. I’ll still remember the words of power during labor Tito Jian, just so it can still be said that this kid is dragonborn.

(This kind of dragonborn works too. Wata!)

I wonder if this sudden squeamishness over every little thing (except kung fu master babies) is going to evolve into the kind of helicopter parent behavior that people roll their eyes at:

Me: Nak, that movie is too dark. Throw it out.
Kid: But ma, you and daddy shot this.
Me: Oh.

(Note to partner: Must make something kid friendly. Also, I miss you and cranapple juice. I don't know what I miss about Cebu the most >:P)

In case of inexplicable irrational feels, I can thankfully blame it on the hormones. So I'm doing that. If this doesn't pass after kid is out, I'll look to the media to blame. Yay for victim mentality.

Now, with nothing left to do while waiting, I got maternal lola to teach me how to crochet.

The pregnancy so far

Baby likes to kick the right side of the belly. He stops when people are around and expect him to. One of my friends think it's performance anxiety. Hah. Filmmakers make shy baby. The irony.

I remember the first time we noticed him moving, we found the kicks cute, but a little hard to identify - kinda like shooting stars on a clear unpolluted-by-artificial-lights sky. Now they're like meteors on Armageddon - painful, frequent, and a sign of the end of days.

The doctor told me "Buntis na jud ka" ("You're definitely pregnant now") as if I wasn't to begin with. But I know what she means. I've had it relatively easy til now. Suddenly, my feet are ballooning, my bump is a basketball, and I feel like yoga can wait for a few more hours days. Cats gestate for less than 3 months. Maybe I am a cat, and I really HAVE only begun to be pregnant. As much as the first trimester felt like a bitch because of mood swings, why do I have a feeling these remaining months are going to be the longest in my life?