First-time Mom at 42: The Second and Last Trimesters

(Continued from Part I and Part II) My second trimester was a breeze. I felt a renewed love for cooking. After work and on weekends, I prepared meals for my husband. 

I kept a record of my pregnancy in The Bump’s Pregnancy Planner and Journal. I still kept away from malls and crowded places and did practically all my shopping for maternity clothes and baby items online. I made a list of all the things our baby will need on her first year and was able to tick off the items one by one, thanks to family who sent in loads of gifts and friends who threw me a baby shower. I even managed to get this blog updated and do some spring cleaning to make room for new purchases.

Gifts from my husband's siblings

First tub

One of the highlights of our second trimester was the congenital anomaly scan, a highly advanced ultrasound procedure that can examine in detail if all the baby’s vital organs developed properly. It was quite unnerving but also such a relief to find out that everything—kidneys, skull, brain, lips, limbs, etc.—was all right. It also confirmed that we were having a girl! My husband was ecstatic. My long-slumbering maternal instinct was roused upon hearing our baby’s heartbeat and seeing her outline on the monitor with legs spread out, her lips moving as she chewed on her fingers.

I managed to sustain this energy until the third trimester. I never missed family gatherings, especially because we were all looking forward to the high school graduation of my eldest niece, Joanna. I touched base with dear friends. I even managed to book an Easter staycation at Aruga by Rockwell with my pamangkins.

Bathroom selfie

But as the third trimester progressed, I started feeling the weight of my pregnancy, literally. My butt was in constant pain. I experienced edema on my feet. I wore Fitflops everywhere.

To make matters worse, what started as allergic rhinitis advanced into a cold. My OB-gyne prescribed an antihistamine initially. I took one tablet, which I regretted instantly, fearing the possible sedative effect on my baby. I didn’t take any more.

When my sniffles didn’t clear up and I began to cough and have a low-grade fever, my OB-gyne prescribed an antibiotic. I was against it but my baby was nearing full term and I had to get well before my due date. I decided to go with her suggestion. I got better quickly.

Throughout my pregnancy, my OB-gyne repeatedly said I was likely to undergo a C-section delivery, considering my age, the fact that I was an elderly primigravida (a term referring to a woman older than 35 years who is pregnant for the first time), and that I had only one ovary (one was surgically removed in 2000 due to an ovarian cyst). Yet, despite all the factors working against me, my pregnancy went very smoothly and I remained strong and healthy except for the recent bout with cold.

At my last checkup end of April 2016, my OB-gyne said that, since the baby and I were doing so well, she'd give me the chance to deliver normally, provided I went into labor before the 40th week. She advised me to start walking regularly, especially up and down the stairs.

By this time, I had gained around 25 pounds so walking was not as easy. And there was little free time because I was still reporting to work. But I took her advice seriously and walked as much as I could.

May 8, 2016, Sunday, was Mother’s Day. It was also a long weekend because the next day was election day. My husband and I made arrangements with my parents and my brother’s family to meet in Shangrila Plaza for lunch. I set my alarm clock at 10 a.m. When I got up, I had the distinct feeling that I had peed on my pants. I went to the bathroom to check. I saw blood. (To be continued)

First-Time Mom at 42: The First Trimester

(Continued from Part I) Then life threw me a curveball. In the middle of 2015, my boyfriend asked me if I still wanted to have a baby. Without hesitation, I said yes. We weren’t even sure we were viable. In previous conversations, we talked about giving it a try for a year and then giving up if nothing happened. But we never gave it a go.

As soon as we tried, I got pregnant, as if parenthood has been waiting in the wings, standing by until we gave it our holy Yes. And when we did, we gave our Yes to the whole shebang—marriage, family, ever after. It all came naturally, because our commitment to each other had been established much earlier. We had already agreed to get married, but because my guy is more romantic than he would admit, he still decided to seal the deal with a diamond ring. He proposed to me on my 42nd birthday.

I was a ball of anxiety that first trimester, so protective of my precious cargo and so afraid that my 41-year-old body would betray me. A month after conception, pregnancy symptoms kicked in, booting the foodie in me out the window. I bristled at the mere sight of steak. I couldn’t stand the smell of sautéing garlic and onions. I stopped cooking entirely. I had sinigang almost every day because it helped keep the nausea at bay. My meals were limited to all things broth-based. I battled fatigue the entire day every single day.

My boyfriend and I kept the pregnancy to ourselves. It was my idea. I researched diligently and discovered that the likelihood of a miscarriage was very high during the first trimester, even higher for women my age. That being so, many couples hold off the big reveal until the second trimester, when the percentage begins to taper off. The downside to this is that I had to pretend to friends, family, and co-workers that everything was okay when in truth all I wanted was to spend the entire day in bed.

In hindsight, I had it easy during the first trimester. Except for the nausea and fatigue, I didn’t have other symptoms. But I was constantly bitten by worry about our baby. I asked my OB-gyne to order a triple test for me to rule out certain birth defects. I had it done in St. Luke’s and was relieved when the tests came out okay.

I have always been obsessive-compulsive about hygiene and became even more so. I wore a mask to hospitals and malls. My hands became dry from constant rubbing with alcohol. It became a habit to wash my hands three times with every visit to the restroom. I became wary of anyone coughing or sniffling.

By the second trimester, the nausea and fatigue began to subside. By Christmas, I could eat! What a relief that was! I still couldn’t bear the sight of steak and the smell of sisig, and my preference for anything broth-based remained. I also looked forward to my servings of fruits specifically papaya, mangoes (ripe and green), and pomelo.

Another source of relief was being able to tell our loved ones about my pregnancy. I told my brother first, then our friends, and finally my parents, who couldn’t contain their delight that their 40-something peripatetic daughter was finally settling down.

When January 2016 came, I became busy with preparations for our civil wedding. My fiancé and I agreed to keep everything low-key, inviting only immediate family and the closest of friends. Our count ended at 24, plus the two of us. We got my brother who’s an RTC judge to officiate, with two of our dearest cousins as witnesses. I loved the intimacy of it all. It allowed us the freedom to be ourselves. We ate. They drank. My husband delivered a heartwarming speech about us that brought tears to my eyes. My niece Joanna and our friend and kumpare Dingdong offered up a toast. My sister in law Pam and niece Jenna sang. We danced. We cried. We laughed. While all these took place, I felt gentle thuds in my belly, stronger than the gentle pulses I started feeling just before the new year began. I kept stroking my baby bump in response. I had never been happier. (To be continued)

First-Time Mom at 42 (Or Why I've Been Quiet On This Blog For Some Time)

While many people I know approach turning 40 with dread, I looked forward to it with elation. I’d never felt better about myself. The last time I felt that way was when I was 25 or so, living an itinerant life while publishing a multicultural magazine named Tribu. In a stroke of youthful braggadocio, I wrote in one editorial that I had never felt my mind so sharp, so free, so incandescent. Intellectually, spiritually, I was soaring.

With turning 40, it was different. I experienced a delight that came from groundedness, gratitude, and acceptance. I remember spending the weekends with my nieces and nephew, learning how to ride the bike along with them. I remember embracing my boyfriend and our life together, without reservations or expectations.

Sometime past my mid-30s, I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I felt crushed, especially because I had already lost one ovary due to an ovarian cyst when I was in my 20s. I didn’t expect to feel so devastated. I had no plans of having a baby so it shouldn’t have mattered if I kept or lost the other ovary.

I went to another OB-gyne for a second opinion. The diagnosis turned out to be wrong. She gave me some medication, which I supplemented with several sessions of acupuncture, and in two months, I was perfectly fine.

But I was never the same in the years to come. I began to wonder whether I should consider motherhood as part of my future. There were days when I was convinced it should, and there were others when I’d almost retch at the prospect.

I asked my boyfriend about the possibility. We always had this notion that we were made in the mold of Carrie and Mr. Big (of Sex & The City) and that our life was complete with just each other. I was dumbfounded when he said yes, and when later he would change his mind, I felt a mix of regret and relief.

Life went on and our relationship became stronger than ever. We were different in a lot of ways but the same in all the ways that mattered. He gets me completely, and I knew I didn’t want to spend my life with anybody else.

We loved exploring new places together, trying out new experiences. We took my pamangkins on staycations and road trips. We also spent a lot of time with our married friends whose children we treated like our own, as well as with single friends whom we could drag to late-nights out at a moment’s notice. I would hie off to Tagaytay for an all-girl weekend with our fairy godmother Sonya or enrol in cooking, calligraphy and other courses that caught my fancy.

So as I approached the dreaded age of 40, I didn’t feel that something was missing. My heart was full, and the gypsy in me was dancing ecstatically to a life untethered. (To be continued)

Hotel Review: Meranti Hotel, Quezon City

Last week, we received late notice that there was going to be a power interruption in our village. The notice from Admin said it would be from 11:30 p.m. to midnight and 4 a.m. to 4:30 a.m. the following day. I was willing to bear it so I decided to stay at home. At nearly 1 a.m. however, power still wasn't restored. By 2 a.m., I was already uncomfortable from the sweltering heat. It didn't help that I was suffering from severe allergic rhinitis. By 3 a.m.,we decided to pack some clothes and drive to Meranti, the nearest decent hotel from our place.

Meranti Hotel is owned by the Max's Group, the company behind Max's Restaurant, Krispy Kreme and Yellow Cab, among others.

The lobby was a fair size for a small hotel and tastefully furnished. I was a little worried about the room because I had been warned that they were small and had thin walls. The receptionist offered us a deluxe, a higher room category, because all the standards were booked for the night.

When we got to the room, we were pleasantly surprised. It was a good size at 35 sqm. with a king size bed that was very comfortable.

The decor was subdued, even stylish. Every corner was clean. Most importantly, there was no musty smell, which could have made my allergies worse.

I slept very soundly that night, until I was woken up by the phone ringing. There was no bedside phone extension so we had to get up to answer. It was the receptionist reminding us that breakfast was only until 10 a.m., which meant we had 10 minutes to go down and get served. We decided to forego breakfast.

It was a little hard to go back to sleep by then, because the heavy drapes weren't fully blackout. We stayed in bed just the same, maybe even dozed off for a few minutes.



Checkout was painless. The staff were extra helpful, processing everything while we ordered our lunch at Meranti Cafe, also located at the lobby near the check-in counter.

They also offered these graham cookies, which were so good! I wonder if they're available at Max's Corner Bakery, which makes those divine caramel bars that you can order with your Max's fried chicken. This bakeshop churns some fantastic baked goodies and is largely underrated in my belief. I am a fan of their meringues.

I was happy to discover that the Max's Group also owns Maple Restaurant in Shangri-la Plaza whose food I truly enjoy. Some items from Maple are included in the Meranti menu but not the buttermilk pancakes (boohoo). I made do with the French toast, which was also good.

Pros: One of the better hotels in Quezon City (there's not a lot)
         Helpful Staff
         Bread and baked goods        
         Good value

Cons: Rooms are not fully blackout
          Phone has no bedside extension
          Breakfast calls should be upon request
          Some noise from passing cars (we were on the 9th floor)           

Easter Break 2016 (Part II): Dean & Deluca

I’ve always liked the pizzas and pastries at Dean & Deluca so that’s where I took the pamangkins for dinner.

Dean & Deluca is a popular chain of upscale grocery stores that started in New York in the ‘70s. The lone store in Manila, however, is more a restaurant than a culinary emporium.

I was curious about these flavored sugar

The first time I visited the restaurant, I ordered its honey-glazed pork ribs and all-American grilled cheese sandwich, both of which were good, but not as memorable as its banana quinoa bread and carrot cake. I’ve also had the occasion of trying the Parma pizza, which earned my approval.

This time around, we got to try a wider selection because I knew my foodie troupe were up to the task of polishing off everything that was served on the table.

The girls, Joanna, Jenna and Julia, started with the slow-roasted pumpkin soup, which earned three thumbs up but with the qualification (by Joanna) that it’s still not as good as Cibo’s.

The crispy calamari was exactly that, and the squid was tender, not at all chewy.

This was Joaki’s choice, the herb-roasted chicken au jus. The slow roasting was evident in the tenderness of the chicken, which was deliciously seasoned. However, I found an off-putting alcohol-like taste in the barley chorizo risotto.

The skillet meatballs stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t expect to find the meatballs of my dreams at Dean & Deluca. The Angus beef ball falls apart in your mouth and it goes exceptionally well with the rich flavor of the arrabiata and peppery arugula. An exceptional bite. We loved it so much we ordered another plate.

The butifarra con salsa funghi e tratufo

Of the pastas, the butifarra con salsa funghi e tartufo was highly recommended but I’d say go for the good ol’ carbonara. Granted, it is not traditional because the noodles are slicked with cream, not egg (although there’s a poached egg on top). On the merit of taste alone, this is a winner. And, mind you, it’s hard to find good carbonara (our favorite is the one of Manila Peninsula, which we ordered by room service during a stay).

The carbonara topped with poached egg

We ordered two pizzas, my favorite Parma and one we haven't tried, Sausage duo. I am no snob when it comes to pizzas and I enjoy the occasional Shakey's thin crust and Pizza Hut pan pizza as much as the next person, but seeing a well-made crust like this, all puffy with raised blisters, buoys my spirit. 

The Parma

The Sausage Duo, Joanna's preference

We capped off our meal with Joanna’s choice, the Hokkaido cheesecake. What a heavenly pick it turned out to be. I enjoy the occasional cheesecake but I usually gravitate more towards sponge cakes and meringue-based cakes like sans rival. This though, I totally dig. It’s lighter and less sweet than the NY variety, and its texture more akin to a soufflé or chiffon cake. Pillowy, velvety, ethereal--everything a cheesecake should be.

Happy diners

On more than one occasion, I have complained about the slow service at Dean & Deluca, especially at the takeout counter. I think this has been addressed somewhat. We did experience a snag when one of our additional orders wasn't placed but this was attended to immediately.

Dean & Deluca
Edades Tower
Amorsolo Drive,
Rockwell, Makati