A Gratitude Story

CATHERINE G. PALOMO

‘Remember the days you prayed for the things you have now?’ Whenever I feel ungrateful, this question comes to mind and brings back to memory past times of helplessness.

Gratitude is an emotion I feel deeply passionate about, for I know that God has blessed me in so many ways – several times, through a tug in the heart, a quiver, an instinct!

Our first pregnancy ended with a rare complication called complete molar pregnancy (a condition where the sperm fertilizes an empty egg containing no genes from the woman). We were devastated and heartbroken but grateful that the doctors discovered this in my first trimester. If left untreated, molar pregnancy could lead to a rare form of cancer. In the next six months, blood samples had to be taken out twice a week to ensure that molar tissues were clearing and there were no signs of re-growth. During those sessions, I had to wait at the same hospital where pregnant women were having antenatal check-ups. I’d be holding back my tears, praying that one day, I, too, may be one of those women waiting, rubbing their bellies as they feel the baby kick inside them.

A year and a half later, I was in the same hospital, telling a midwife (birthing specialist) how I woke up from my nap, feeling peculiar at how my urine was covered in blood and how the shape of my 9-month belly was looking odd! I was due to be induced in two days, but I had to convince the midwives and nurses that something seemed to be wrong with my baby. At one point, one was getting irritated, telling me to keep firm as they kept losing my baby’s heartbeat on the monitor. Two hours of monitoring, and still nothing wrong could be found. But we stayed, as I insisted.

Moments later, the fetal Doppler showed a question mark. I remember the midwife calling the doctor, the panicky look on her face, and the chaos that followed as they wheeled me into the delivery room. I could see James’ worried face while quietly praying to Mother Mary. Within minutes, I was in the delivery room, and the last thing I remembered was asking a nurse if they were going to take my baby out and him saying ‘yes.’ James would later tell me that he was able to change into a nightgown but was not able to go in, as in less than half an hour, the doctors delivered my daughter covered in blood but was perfectly healthy!

Two days later, the midwife who was supposed to assist with my induction visited and said that if I hadn’t insisted on being monitored, we would’ve lost our daughter. We named her Maria Josefina.

I would again fall pregnant three years later and end up in another miscarriage. Thinking that I’d been in a similar situation before, I thought it would be much easier – I was wrong!

One thing that helped us overcome our heartbreak was how Fina, at her young age, would show immense interest in how babies are formed and developed. She’d express her heartbreak about losing her siblings (the baby we lost before her and after her) and how it gave her hope that one day, her prayer would be answered.

She didn’t hide her apprehension when we later told her she was having a baby brother, but she was still grateful that she now had someone to play with! We would involve her in every developmental milestone, watch videos together, take her to accompany me to my antenatal check-ups, and even get her to help me inject insulin for my gestational diabetes. During these times, Fina would ask me to show the scar on my belly and tell her the story of how she was born. She would then ask me to promise her not to let the doctors cut me open again. I’d say ‘yes’ but would later break my word so her baby brother could be born safely.

Then, the news about COVID-19 started to fill every word, every hour. Restrictions would change every day, and in one of my antenatal check-ups, Fina was not allowed to go inside the hospital with me. I was even asked to look away from the monitor where I could see my baby while the midwife was doing her checks.

Three weeks before giving birth, we lost James’ dad. Filled with grief and uncertainty, the baby inside me would bring to my mind that as much as James, Fina, and everyone around needed me – he needed me most at that time!

I was grateful that when I was admitted to the hospital to give birth, James was there to hold my hand. Keeping my promise to Fina, I went into labor for 26 hours to try and give birth naturally. The doctors and midwives tried to induce me, but I bled too much. Given the history of miscarriages, the doctor had to convince me that I undergo another C-section so they could safely deliver my son. This would break Fina’s heart later when I showed her the bandages in my belly.

We named our son Leon Benjamin, and he brought the happiness and hope we needed when it felt like joy was foreboding. He taught me to be calm, let go, and slow down. He reminded me to lean into joy even when grieving.

I will still discover how to embody gratitude more – constantly doing, trying, failing, and trying again. I lean into simple joys whenever an overwhelming urge of anxiety starts to creep in. And when I do that, God is always there with a slight tug – a quiver or whisper – to value and appreciate the present, for what I have are answers to prayers I have asked for in the past.