Because It's A Mom's Thing (Cha)

This is my sister Cha's story, in her own words.

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I was a semester away from graduating when I got pregnant with my daughter. Since it was your typical pregnancy out of wedlock, my boyfriend that time (and now my husband) and I were at a loss as to how we are going to break the news to my mom. My dad was abroad, as usual, so it was my mom that we had to talk to first. And knowing my mom, I was a hundred percent sure that she would go ballistic.

I can still clearly remember that night. My mom was in her room watching TV and Nicco and I were standing outside the bedroom door, prompting each other when to enter the room.

“When the show goes on a commercial break, let’s go inside na ha!” I told him.

“Pwede bang next commercial na lang?”, my then future husband bargained.

It took a dozen or so commercials when we finally decided, “Let’s go, para matapos na ‘to.”

And so finally, we went inside and broke the news to my mom. Surprisingly, she didn’t go ballistic as I had expected. She just asked us calmly: “So what are your plans?”. I knew those questions would come and we were ready to give our answers. I breathed a sigh of relief and a glimpse of happiness that night—I felt everything would be okay.

But that was just, as they say, the calm before the storm. Three days after, my mom knocked on my bedroom door and just went crazy—shouted, threw things. I knew my mom could raise hell when she’s mad but little did I know she’s capable of doing those things that night. I was shocked because I thought everything was fine. But I was wrong. Thinking about it now, maybe the reality of the situation didn’t sink in immediately. It was a classic case of delayed reaction for my mom, I guess.

Before that day ended, I packed my things and left our house.

Early morning the following day, I received a text message from her asking me to go home. I didn’t want to because I was still hurting. It took me a week before I finally went back home.

And when I finally did come home, I went straight to my room… and I found a maternity dress and a box of prenatal milk on my bed. I cried so hard. My mom was never the type who will shower you with hugs and sweet words. So that gesture meant something big—that she has already accepted my situation and that no matter what decisions I make or whatever crazy thing I do, she will always love me and accept me wholeheartedly.

And it would be the same thing I would do for my daughter…no matter what. Now I understand. It’s a mom’s thing J

Unconditional Love: