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FATHER, MOTHER & SON… for just seven days (3rd of 7 parts)

Day 3 (THURSDAY)
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The joyful ride from Tuesday to most part of Wednesday abruptly ended when the lady of my house was ready to give up her one-day old motherhood. My heart bled for Marc Andrei.

He was born into this world that fateful Monday night (11:04 PM), but abandoned by the mother. Presented to me at around 8:00 AM that Tuesday, but initially rejected for I needed time to decide. Deprived of privacy and much-needed rest necessary for a newly-born infant when made like the object of a carnival-like spectacle. Scrutinized by the entire neighborhood whose desire for something to gossip about is unbelievably insatiable. Taken by the lady of my house. (I was not sure of her reason –  she craved so much to be a mother or she was just afraid someone else would take away Marc Andrei). Briefly found a home and the warmth of loving parents but not yet totally shielded from the prying eyes of the people in the neighborhood. And when he was starting to settle down in an abode where he felt he was welcome, suddenly, one fickle-minded spirit would again thrust him back to the limbo of uncertainty.

Marc Andrei! What a beautiful and wonderful being. Truly an angel, but unwanted. Marc Andrei did nothing wrong to deserve the kind of treatment he was getting. But what can I do, I can’t be the mother and the father at the same time. I need to work, I can only take care of him at night. I thought of bringing him to my father’s hometown but it was not as simple as I initially thought it would be. I even thought of hiring a nanny and get for her and Mark Andrei a place to live.

And so, my emotional roller coaster plummeted so fast in the tracks. On its way down it wriggled through treacherous dips and spins. From the lake of tremendous joy, I was submerged again in the quicksand of sadness and despair.

With a heavy heart, I dialed the number of ate Baby that Thursday and told her about the bad news. Still, I would like to shield the lady of my house from the harsh criticism she may be receiving should people know about her decision. Thus, I told sister Babe that just in case people in our neighborhood would ask, let it be known that it was me who made the decision.

As always, I prayed that may the best thing happen to Marc Andrei that day.

My wife called up when I was in my workplace and asked what time would ate Baby be coming to get Marc Andrei. I told her around noontime.

If in the previous day I was ecstatic telling everyone in the workplace that I have a new son, that time I just stayed glued in my seat in the office and contemplated. Then I got my phone and uploaded the pictures of Marc Andrei to my desktop computer. I had his first picture as my screen saver. It was a sight to behold but looking at it was a bad idea for it made me feel sadder.

I received several text messages from my wife that day. She tried so hard to explain her side. I decided to respond just once telling her that if indeed she was hell-bent on surrendering our parenthood of Marc Andrei, then she must make sure that I would no longer see him when I arrive home. Then I turned my phone off after saying that.

I talked to a couple of trusted friends and told them about the situation. I really didn’t like to do that for it was like making my wife look bad. But I had no choice.

I was supposed to be home by 5:00 PM. But how would I feel in a “Marc Andrei-less home” and seeing there the fickle-minded spirit that caused his disappearance. At around 6:30 that afternoon, I walked towards the center of the town. Luckily, I chanced upon old friends in a food stall. I begged that they accompany me at least for an hour and listen to what I had to say. They acceded.

They said it was time to drink. So, I ordered, not wine, but soft drinks and some finger foods.

They did nothing but listen. I recounted to them the events in my life the past days, as silent tears were rolling down my cheeks. Good, it was dark in the place where we were so they may have not noticed it. But my cracking voice could not hide my sadness and disappointment.

I thanked them for bearing with me. They wished me the best and after they delivered that oft-repeated phrase said too people burdened with problems – “We’ll pray for you!” – we parted ways.

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I was home before 8:00 P.M. anticipating the worst that may come that night.

Marc Andrei was still there, sleeping soundly in the daybed, the same place where I saw him first when I arrived home Tuesday afternoon. My wife explained that ate Baby came that morning but she was out of the house and has not returned since then. Thus, our baby was still there. I did not say a word to her, I did not even kiss her as I usually would do upon arrival from work.

I gave ate Baby a call and she arrived 10 minutes later. We had a brief chat. I set the “damage control scheme.” I told her to say whenever asked that we needed to return Marc Andrei because we have an obligation to take another baby who we were really eyeing for adoption,  that it was I who decided to let go of Marc Andrei, not the lady of my house. Like a knight, I must protect my fickle-minded damsel in distress.

My wife cried profusely when ate Baby carried Marc Andrei out of our house. Was it love or guilt? I was not sure. I accompanied ate Baby back to their house. I stayed there for an hour. I told her that it was the most painful thing that my wife did to me, it was simply unforgivable. Ate Baby told me to understand my wife but I said I have forgiven her many times for the pains she caused me (the way she forgave me also in the past for all my wrongdoings) but this one is different, this one is hard to forget and that I may not be able to forgive her for it.

When I got back home, my wife was crying. She asked for forgiveness and understanding. I saw guilt written all over her face. I just nodded and told her that from that night onwards, a lot of changes might happen.

I went to our bedroom and contemplated about the things that I needed to do. The worst plan I cooked up was to leave the house the following day.

When she entered our bedroom, to my surprise and amazement she asked me to go back to ate Baby and get Marc Andrei back. What I heard did not make me happy but rather annoyed. Angrily that I told her that Marc Andrei is not a toy that you throw away then pick  him back up  when you realized you still want to use him.

Not five, not ten, but more than twenty times that she pleaded that we take Marc Andrei back. I did not say a word anymore, I just responded by shaking my head.

 DAY 4: https://madligaya.com/2013/03/28/father-son-for-seven-days-4th-of-7-parts/

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About HARDPEN

Teacher-Writer Hardpen is my nom de plume. My real name is Massuline Antonio Dupaya Ligaya. Many times I was asked the question, "Why do you write?" I don't write for rewards nor adulation. When I write poems, stories, and essays, when I do research, seeing them completed gives me immense joy and satisfaction. I don't write for cash incentives, "likes," and "praises." I would be thankful if I'll have them but the happiness and sense of fulfillment I feel when completing my works are my real rewards. Is teaching difficult? No! When I teach, I don't work but I play. The classroom is my playground, the students are my playmates, and the subject is our toy. Proud to be me! Proud to be a FILIPINO! TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

Posted on March 23, 2013, in Adoption, Deception, Fatherhood, Motherhood, Parenting, Treachery and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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