Today, most Filipinos are trooping to cemeteries to visit the tombs of loved ones who are no longer of this world. As has been the tradition, many came armed with brooms and pails to clean the tombs and will, perhaps, spend the night at the cemetery.
My husband and I made our rounds of visit. I’m quite superstitious about bringing our little baby to the cemetery so we decided it is best to leave her and her Kuya R (who was running a fever) at home.
The visit was quite a breeze for us because our departed loved ones were interred in the same memorial garden, almost next to each other. We first paid our respect to my mother- and brother-in-law before moving on to my younger brother and our little angel, Ervin Jay.
The pain have since dulled but the memories of that fateful day in 2006 are still fresh. We were so excited to welcome our third child (another boy) to the world. I was on my 8th month of pregnancy, counting down the days until the big day. Then, one stormy night, I started shivering.
It was weird because I was not feverish (I had my husband check my temperature) nor was I feeling cold. But there I was, visibly shaking from head to toe while drenched in sweat. We wanted to go to the hospital but my OB-Gyne turned down the idea as it was pouring hard outside with occasional lightning. She told us to continue monitoring my temperature. After a while, the shivers had stopped.
It was still stormy the following day so I informed the office that I won’t be reporting to work and we stayed at home. Everything was normal until I noticed the absence of any fetal movement the next morning. No matter how many times I placed my hands on my tummy or talked to the baby, there was no response.
We immediately went to the OB-Gyne and were shocked to hear the news: her Doppler could not pick up the baby’s heartbeat. But maybe her Doppler is malfunctioning so she told us to get an ultrasound.
The ultrasound screen showed us our worst fear; our precious Baby EJ, looking like he was just sleeping peacefully but was in fact already dead. My husband and I were both in tears when we went home to pick up my D-Day bag and to the hospital where I delivered my stillborn baby.
I have no memory of the whole delivery. Everything was a blur. Even to this day, I still cry over our loss. Nothing is more painful to a mother than losing her child.
Baby EJ would have been 6 years old this year. None of us could explain our loss but we trust God has a greater purpose.
