A String of Recollections

It’s often said that life is made up of ribbons of memories. And It would be an understatement to simply say how the first half of 2012 has given me some beautiful ones.

I share them with you today in the hopes that if I write them here, they’ll embed themselves further into my being and never leave.


  • An early morning in March in Manila. The weather is sunny and humid. The house I’ve spent most of my life is slowly waking up and getting ready to start its daily grind. The smell of coffee wafts through the air from the kitchen and the scutter from our dogs gets louder as they play. I sneak into my parents’ bathroom (uninhabited, since they were out of the country at the time) to take the smallest of tests while my husband packs for his flight back to Sydney that afternoon.
  • Three minutes into the test, the tiniest line has miraculously appeared on the strip of paper while I wasn’t looking. I try to remember what I read about any line, no matter how faint, meaning that the body is creating a substance it only makes when a new life has come to call you home. Looking at myself in the mirror and not fully grasping what all of this could possibly mean.
  • Saying goodbye to Carl at the airport. He hugs me tight, completely unaware of my morning’s events. I promptly head to the hospital to take a more elaborate test. A part of me admits enjoying having this little secret no one in the world knows about. The next morning, I say a prayer and head back to the hospital for the results. My heart is pounding fast as the nurse looks through a file of papers for my name. Even before she places a white sheet in my hands, I can see that the numbers are better than I expected. Before I step out of the hospital, I look at my belly and say “hello” for the first time.
  • Arriving in Sydney five days later. Coming home to a home cooked roast dinner where, after the table is cleared, I sit down across from Carl and hand him a gift. A  small book I’ve found about fatherhood. Seeing him open the wrapping and take one short look at the book then me. How the neurons in his brain register the connection in seconds but he wants to hear it from my mouth.  I don’t think one can put into words the colour of emotions you see flash through a man’s face when you tell him he’s going to be a father.
  • The many wonderful things he whispers in my ear that night when he thinks I’m asleep and dreaming.
  • The pure joy and relief at seeing a tiny flicker of a heartbeat pop out from our first ultrasound. The excitement in Carl’s voice when he sees it too and the look we give each other with watery eyes that would have made the Hallmark channel proud.
  • The Skype calls with our family and friends that filled the air of our apartment with screams and good cheer.
  • Tired train rides back from work where my mind wonders to different lands and I forget for a brief instant that I’m no longer alone.
  • Waking up in the morning and sitting in the sunshine of our balcony and just breathing in the day and talking to a little being building its blocks for the rest of its life.
  • Feeling our little one move inside me for the first time. A sensation I’d describe to be like swallowing a butterfly and having it beat its wings gently across your belly.
  • From looking at my husband every other day and analyzing his skin, his hair, his energy and kindness. Shaking my head in disbelief that a person so wonderful has combined with a part of me to make someone we can’t wait to meet.


These are some of the moments from my life that I don’t ever want to lose. Memories I hope to package and open up to feel again whenever the moment calls for it.

Thank you for reading along. I hope you’re willing to be part of the journey while I make many more.