Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger’s touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body. But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says “I am,” and forms the core of personality.
Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon
So begins a beautifully sweet afternoon with Noah, who turned 3 weeks old that day. It is such a wonderful experience watching newborns fall asleep, their pink little arms and toes dancing earnestly to the sun’s rays right before slumber (and how nothing in the world can wake them up once they’re there). Noah was such a good boy, crying only for his milk and a diaper change. And before we knew it, amidst all the adults fussing about him in one of the hottest days of the year, Noah sunk blissfully deep, deep, deep into dreamland.
Thank you Lynn, Jay, Yaya, Lola and Arianne for teatime and a lovely siesta hour. ♥
A first child is your own best foot forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out. You examine every turn of flesh for precocity, and crow it to the world.
The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
Newborn babies can’t do much on their own -
They can’t eat or walk or talk on the phone -
But every parent is sure their creation is without a doubt a tremendous sensation.
Jennifer Davis
This is a place where grandmothers hold babies on their laps under the stars and whisper in their ears that the lights in the sky are holes in the floor of heaven.
Rick Bragg
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl,
I’d love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl,
But I’m never warm enough for my lovely summer girl,
It’s summer when she smiles, I’m laughing like a child,
It’s the summer of our lives; we’ll contain it for a while
She holds the heat,
the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand
I’d be happy with this summer if it’s all we ever had.
Maggie Stiefvater
I look at my two living children and realize that the one that left is very much alive today. He can be found in Evans laughter, his optimism, and in Bella’s affection and smile.
ENTWINED
by Ruth De Castro
Losing a child is a heartache that will never heal. As a mother, I bore the scars of a pregnancy without a baby to hold and just as my body didn’t understand this fact, neither did my brain. My misery would have swallowed me alive, if it wasn’t for the belief that there exists a reason for every experience and for my loving husband who provided a shoulder to cry on, a chest to lay on, a hand to hold. Anthony was always available for my flustered phone calls while I was out running errands and I would see a mother interact with her child. I would sob on the phone as I felt my heart strings tug at a void that Isaac left in my heart. There were days that I didn’t and couldn’t get out of bed and my husband would lay next to me and tend to my every need.
From this kind of pain, a very genuine type of love grew between him and I as we lay in silence, in a bond that could only exist between us. It may be hard to understand, but it forced me to reflect and see the beauty in our loss, and made me realize that I truly wanted to be a mother, and I knew what type of mother I wanted to be. It also validated that this was the partner I wanted to share that experience with.
(See more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥)
Hard as I tried, I made mistakes. But what amazed me more was that those mistakes did not define me as a parent, only that they brought out my wonderment at my child.
I conceived baby #2 a month after Isaac’s loss. It was very surreal and this pregnancy was filled with worry and stress. But a new baby was born, a healthy 4lbs 13oz boy, on December 18, 2008. We named him Evan, which in Hebrew means “God is good” and in Gaelic means “swift.” This seemed like a perfect fit for my little Christmas present. He didn’t fill the void, but he made it more bearable. I learned to appreciate the sleepless nights, the crying fits, and the dirty diapers… Because I knew of the latter.
I also realized that I was absolutely right – Anthony was an amazing father. He probably even changed more diapers than I did. He watched Evan as I went back to work and school and went along with anything that I thought up. He didn’t put up a fight when I told him we were switching to “cloth” diapers and that we were going to puree all his organic baby food, or grumble when I insisted on no TV around Evan, even ESPN or Food Network were off limits. He agreed when I told him to play at least two hours of foreign language music to help with his familiarity with Spanish or French since during my “nesting” period I researched what the best private schools were after seeing a very intense HBO documentary on how competitive prestigious private school slots were in New York. He even went along with my hour and half commute to San Francisco every Saturday when I enrolled him in the only baby swim program that accepted 3 month old babies. He only disagreed when I decided on purchasing the baby furniture from PBK and he said that it was overpriced for the quality. I retorted back by saying, I’d rather spend the money on an expensive crib than a casket! That shut him up (lol). (I didn’t want to admit it then but it does seem a little absurd now that we bought it, but I don’t want this biting me in the butt when I want to decorate his toddler room.) Regardless, he supported me in whatever I fancied, and stood as a “proxy” mom while I spent countless hours studying calculus equations and writing history papers. He was an amazing father and even to this day, Evan is a Daddy’s boy. He stuck by me pre-partum hormones, post-partum, then pre, then back to post again. That poor guy. Ladies if you ever want to see love, find a man that has experienced a woman during and after pregnancy.
(See more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥)
From this kind of pain, a very genuine type of love grew between Anthony and I as we lay in silence, in a bond that could only exist between us. It forced me to reflect and see the beauty in our loss, and made me realize that I truly wanted to be a mother.
I parented the only way I knew how, neurotic, type-A, analytical, and research oriented. I was logical and illogical both at the same time. I wanted everything documented, weighed, and on schedule. I was worried that every decision would have some sort of long lasting effect on Evan if it wasn’t the right decision. Hard as I tried, I made mistakes. But what amazed me more was that those mistakes did not define me as a parent, only that they brought out my wonderment at my child. When I was having a bad day, all it took was me hearing Evan sing “black and yellow, black and yellow” to make me laugh. When I took my annoyance out on him and was short with my response, he would say, “Why are you mad mommy? Is it because someone took your super heroes?” Children are inquisitive and innocent at the same time. They make you feel guilty for being such a grump around them. He allowed me to make mistakes, to be moody, to be snappy, and he would still ask me to read him a story at the end of the night and tell me in the morning that I can’t leave until I give him a high-five. He taught me that mistakes are okay, and that a child’s love is unconditional and immediately reciprocated.
(See more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥)
How do you define all the “gray” matter in between? The free-flowing love that binds and co-mingles from the earthly to the divine? A family is much more than its literal definition, but its true meaning lies in what is undefined and unspoken.
Isabella came at a surprise. We were just easing into “auto-pilot” mode with Evan when I found out I was pregnant with her. From the start, I knew she was a girl. She felt different. She made me feel graceful, as opposed to the constant hurling in the toilet that I had with both boys. She was born November 6th, and is a true Scorpio. Charming and mesmerizing, but underneath lay an old intense soul. She was enigmatic. She was so laid back, affectionate, and every instance a “girl.” I was captivated from the moment they placed her on my chest. Bella taught me to take my time with my children. I found myself laying in bed longer with her, gazing at her every detail, and breathing in as much of her “baby” smell as I could – a mixture of baby powder, milk, plus a scent unique to each baby. I became less anal, and found time to take my children to the park, draw with them, and even watch TV. Her addition created balance even though adding a second child turned our lives even more chaotic. Bella is so easy to love, and I am just drawn to her. She gave me the pleasure of being her “favorite” and I could never get tired of seeing her hands reach up for me.
(See more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥)
The world often thinks that it is the parents’ job to educate their child, but I find that my children are constantly educating me. Isaac prepared me to become a better mother and a better partner. Evan taught me that mistakes are okay, and that a child’s love is unconditional and immediately reciprocated. And my dear Isabella taught me to stop and smell the roses.
I found myself laying in bed longer with her, gazing at her every detail, and breathing in as much of her baby smell as I could. Bella is so easy to love, and I could never get tired of seeing her hands reach up for me.
The world often thinks that it is the parents’ job to educate their child, but I find that my children are constantly educating me. Isaac taught me to appreciate my loved ones, that time is a gift and it is up to us how we spend it. He prepared me to become a better mother and a better partner, and somehow I know that he gave us the gift of time and maturity. Evan taught us to laugh out loud. To be gregarious and that mistakes were okay. He reminded us how to pretend and use our imagination, and made us realize that children are observant and not to underestimate their comprehension and intelligence. And my dear Isabella taught me to stop and smell the roses, and to appreciate the simplicity of everyday interaction. I look at my two living children and realize that the one that left is very much alive today. He can be found in Evans laughter, his optimism, and in Bella’s affection and smile. Throughout it all I was fortunate enough to experience the highs and lows with someone that loved me at my worst and supported me at my best. It is hard to believe that its been a little over three years since we became a “family.” A family is defined as
But how do you define all the “gray” matter in between? The free-flowing love that binds and co-mingles from the earthly to the divine? A family is much more than its literal definition, but its true meaning lies in what is undefined and unspoken.
(See more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥)
What a privilege to have spent a day in the life of the De Castros. They have always been a family – in this life, in the last, and in the next, and in the next. In the words of Kahlil Gibran, they were born together, and together they shall be forevermore. Thank you Ruth, Anthony, Evan and Bella for a lesson in life and love. You can see more of Ruth and Anthony’s intimate love story here. ♥
The two kids I love the most in the universe, in the place I love most on earth.
You will begin to touch heaven, Jonathan, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.
“Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” Richard Bach
Callanta – Toledo Prenuptials Bridesmaids Session
Michelle
They say when it comes to a brood of four, the second child was the middle child.
Now I don’t know why exactly but people always seem to make it sound like it’s a curse to be in the middle. Like there’s an actual syndrome you can acquire because of it. And there are symptoms too like lack of belonging, low self-esteem, reclusion, no sense of direction, and trust issues to name a few, that just make the whole thing sound even more like a personality disorder.
When I was born, my father told me that my 2-year old sister Paula went around the hospital telling everyone, “Our. Baby. Is. PRETTY!!!”
She got that part right.
My sisters are my best friends. Truly.
Then two years later, Mika followed. And two years after her, Roni.
It was only after their fourth failed attempt at a son that my parents realized my mother’s mutant ability to only produce X-chromosomes. But it was too late.
I was stuck right smack in the middle of hand-me-down dresses and a good many “Michelle, give that toy to your little sister” or “Michelle, you’re not cool enough to hang out with me and my friends” or “Pakachak, stop playing with boys and breaking your slippers.”
But that was as far as the torment as I had gotten being the middle child.
When they say middle children are ignored, I took it as freedom from parental strangulation. When they say middle children are reclusive, I saw it as an opportunity to grow on my own terms. When they say middle children have trust issues, I prided myself in the fact that when push came to shove and my parents and siblings were ready to kill each other, I, the cool calm independent nonchalant seemingly under-appreciated but completely sensible one, was the “crazy glue” that kept the family together.
True story.
To say she’s crazy must be the understatement of all time. Without her, the three of us would be lost.
Paula
This mugg! Michelle gave the two girls a balanced childhood while I was busy being an anti-social biotch. She had this awesome ability to come up with games that the two girls would enjoy, not to mention a natural inclination to fool the two into doing things that would make them look dumb, all in the name of good, clean fun. Without Michelle, the three of us would be bored, it’s as simple as that. Whenever she comes home from Los Baños, all you can hear from our house is laughter. To say she’s crazy must be the understatement of all time. Without her, the three of us would be lost.
Thank you for making me feel better whenever I’m having a nervous breakdown. I don’t know what I’d do without you Michelle. We weren’t close before, but now that we are, you are my bestest friend, the only person I run to whenever I’m in the brink of insanity. Thank you for keeping me sane Michelle. I love you.
Mika
Our pakachak! I was actually having a hard time as to what to say about this girl, aside from the fact that she’s pretty, smart and super PR. If you guys need someone to show you what fun means, she’s your girl. She has friends almost everywhere. Cool thing about that is, she lets us hang out with her now! She used to be me and Roni’s coolest playmate… ”junkies”…haha… that was cool. Oh and Roni being the escape artist by the use of scarves. She had that scary ride for us too, which I might add was totally crappy but seemed really interesting. For Christmas, Michelle always got to be Mrs. Claus while Roni and I were her reindeer – yeah, she had that power over us, (and she still does while I will forever be the Gentle Giant of the family…) And how can we forget Roni’s 3 letter-named husbands. On the other hand, we had our traumatizing days with her, but come to think of it, it was crazy fun playing with her, and believe me, when you’re with her, it’ll always be fun. Thanks to Ate Paula she became my roommate (no need for further elaboration). She’s my closest sister and I’ve always wanted to be like her (truth dude). She’s smart and witty, and still seemed to have time for other stuff. She’s gonna have the autistic child, I’m gonna marry a DOM and be a battered wife, Roni will have bratty kids (must’ve got it from the mom), Ate Paula’s gonna be obese.. yeah different alright, pero magsa-side line ka pang porn star right, haha!
All I can say is, I love being with her. I can talk to her about anything and I just love hearing what she has to say.
You know what Ate Mich, I’m having such a hard time putting into words how great you are. I’m totally lost, you know I love you right? Take good care of yourself… and we miss you like crazy…=) LOVE YOU!!!!!
Roni
“As wind to a fan, she gives things purpose. As fan to wind, she makes things move.”
My sisters are my best friends.
Truly.
* Michelle as a kid was nicknamed Pakachak by her sisters for always breaking her tsinelas from playing.
In summer, the song sings itself.
William Carlos Williams
All About My Little Family by Julie De Borja
Normally, you don’t have the privilege to choose your family. Yes, I call it a privilege because there are people born into crazy families, broken parents, and so on. Maybe this is why my little family is far from ordinary.
I got pregnant at 18 with Ella. And no matter what people say or think, keeping her was a choice. Yes, life is a gift from God but let’s not pretend we can’t choose to refuse it, whatever the consequences may be. This is a different world than from 50 years ago.
I made this decision because at that time I was a lost soul. I wasn’t exactly a good girl gone bad. I was simply a girl that just lost her way. And deep inside I knew that the life growing in me was going to change things. It wasn’t an easy journey, but it was all worth it.
I was right because Ella has brought so much love and joy into my world. If things had happened differently I wouldn’t have met all these wonderful people that have molded me into whom I am. Ella brought our family closer, a little girl empowering three grown women. That’s what our family’s composed of – strong women.
And I wouldn’t have stumbled upon the man who chose to be a part of us, the father that chose his daughter to be his.
We don’t need the world’s approval because in our hearts we know that this is where we belong, this is what’s meant to be. We chose to be together, all three of us.
The public has this notion that single mothers would do anything to try to “find” a father for their child. Take note of the quotation marks. Well, you can say whatever you want but I am no ordinary lady, which is why I have this extraordinary little family to begin with. For Ella, I vowed to choose the best, to make things right. I only deserve the best after all. We deserve the best. And at the same time, I’m a proud woman. I don’t feel the need to rely on someone to be secure.
No one taught her to call Los her dad
but she does, because he is.
It could be luck, or my being headstrong and bull headed; but I give all the credit to God and fate that I’m lucky to have chosen a man that’s chosen us as well. It definitely takes more than knocking someone up to be called a father, and Ella is more of Los’ than her very own biological father.
Many people don’t understand us. But as they say, trying to please everyone is the key to failure. We don’t need the world’s approval because in our hearts we know that this is where we belong, this is what’s meant to be. We chose to be together, all three of us. That includes Ella. No one taught her to call Los her dad but she does, because he is. And we choose to stick together, grow together and to share our love with others, even if it’s as simple as posing in front of the camera.
Thank you Ella, Los and Julie.
At that point I realized that I wasn’t raising a daughter.
She was raising a mother.
AN ODE TO A SOUL IN HIDING
by Michelle Callanta-Toledo
I learned I was pregnant November 6, 2006.
I remember this because it was the Monday after my mother’s birthday (pretty much my last day of happy intemperance) and I was “late” and I did not want go to work not knowing.
So 1 line is negative, 2 lines positive, right? When I saw the first line begin to take on that purple shade, I already knew. I think I must’ve chuckled to myself and thought something like, “Oh girl you done did it this time.” I knew this was it. No panic. No doubts. Just a deep sigh and a knowing acceptance.
Besides, I had no more excuses this time. I was a graduate. I had just landed an editorial assistant job at Gadgets. And I guess all the pain I had experienced earlier that year (particularly the one that had to do with my escaping a physically abusive relationship) made me realize that this was one responsibility I HAD to take – not completely disregarding the moral obligation I had though it wasn’t the motivating factor… I figured if this was one of those divine intervention type lessons I had to learn, I was in it to win it.
Now I wasn’t exactly as unfortunate as a lot of the other “single” mothers I know. I mean, I wasn’t exactly single; the baby did have a father, and a supportive and loving one. And despite only having known him only a month after I had gotten pregnant, he was admittedly there for me during the entire 9-month endeavor and all throughout our daughter’s first year. Hell, I’ll give him that. I think I’d have about lost my mind if I had to rough it out alone, and that’s why I admire those who were able to do just that because I understand the strength as well as the courage it must’ve taken.
But despite my hormonal imbalance, my changing body, and my natural tendency to just worry about everything, I was pretty much a very happy overweight pregnant woman. I laughed all the time. I worked hard. I went out to events happily sipping my iced tea and rocked those really tight maternity dresses proudly. I ate heartily and merrily and drank that God-forsaken Anmum milk religiously… with Chewy Chips Ahoy for taste.
I still have a lot to learn when it comes to raising a kid. But somehow, I honestly believe that she knows how hard I’m trying. And she understands. And she doesn’t demand. She lets me be young. She lets me be a woman. But best of all, she let me go out and find love.
I suppose that overall delight and evident joy rubbed off on my daughter somehow. Lucky for me it did because when it came time to separate with her father (she was a few months shy of two and we had finally admitted to ourselves that we simply could no longer “roll” together as Shel Silverstein so cleverly put it), it was as if she already knew and that she had to be there… for me. To take care of me. To pat me when I was crying. To wipe my tears. To tell me it was okay, I love you. To make me laugh (I mean, yeah babies don’t generally have these well-defined personalities but she was such a goofball who made faces and found silly things hilarious and sang her heart out and smiled and chuckled and didn’t mind watching Pineapple Express with me in the middle of the night and liked mashed potatoes on her head instead of her mouth.)
At that point I realized that I wasn’t raising a daughter.
She was raising a mother.
It was as if she knew she had to learn fast so she could take care of me better. As if being a baby was hindering her from doing so. I mean, she took her first steps after only 11months (it was on Mother’s Day when it happened) and was potty-trained just before she turned two. Now, she’s this smart-alecky precocious little BIG person who likes makeup and loves fairytales and the act of “love” kissing and sexy red panties (her favorite) and videogames and randomly asks people, “what’s your problem?” and can memorize song lyrics faster than a lot of people I know who are my age.
(And just this morning, she reminded me to buy her some milk.)
It was as if she knew she had to learn fast so she could take care of me better… it was as if she already knew and that she had to be there… for me. To take care of me. To pat me when I was crying. To wipe my tears. To tell me it was okay, I love you.
I suppose for all that I’m writing, I may not seem all that great of a mom and I still have a lot to learn when it comes to raising a kid. But somehow, I honestly believe that she knows how hard I’m trying. And she understands. And she doesn’t demand. She lets me be young. She lets me be a woman. But best of all, she let me go out and find love. And when she saw I had found it (the only other man I had allowed to “share” my sleep with), she looked him over for the first time as he slept (fully-clothed and propped uncomfortably upright), smiled, and began jumping on the bed until he woke up and noticed her.
Loved her.
She’s charming that way.
Quite like her mother.
You can see more of Michelle here and here and here (because she is just such a joy to photograph)! ♥
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