Fright Night
October 24, 2004 | 12:00am
Have you been frightened out of your wits? Ever felt your blood run cold or your brain suspended in a frozen abyss? Read my tales of night-mares that turned all too real.
Manila, January 1975: This was my second pregnancy and I was on my sixth month. I had my regular check-up and my obstetrician confirmed that my baby was healthy and was expected to be bigger and heavier than my first born. I thought so too.
After lunch, I felt a stabbing pain in my belly that pushed down to my bladder. "It must have been the calamansi‚ juice," I thought. I ignored the pain and continued typing a letter. The pain not only intensified but there was that persistent, uncomfortable urge to relieve myself. I was in and out of the bathroom. The pain soon spread to my back and went down to my legs. I had to hold on to my stomach because it felt so heavy that I had trouble walking. My hands turned clammy and I broke into a cold sweat. Something was terribly wrong. My amah was very concerned and said, "Believe me Letty; you have all the signs of a woman who’s in labor. We must get you to the hospital."
In the emergency room, the resident took my pulse and his face turned white. He summoned the nurse to bring a device that could monitor the heartbeat of the fetus. When the nurse placed the device to my stomach, she could not get any heartbeat. I held my breath and told the nurse, "Put your instrument at the base of my tummy. My baby is probably moving around that area." She nodded and followed my suggestion. Before I could ask her whether she found any heartbeat, my doctor arrived. After the rudimentary examination, she held my hand and said, "Letty, I will perform a caesarean and get your baby out, okay? Your husband has agreed to the procedure and he is waiting outside the operating theater."
I barely had any time to ask her what was wrong; my baby has not reached his full term yet.
The last thing I remembered was looking up at the ceiling and being blinded by the bright circular lights of the white-tiled operating room. I woke up at the sight of several faces wearing surgical masks looking down at me. "You are one lucky woman," sighed the anesthesiologist. "We nearly lost you." "You are safe now, Letty," my doctor emphasized. Groggy from the anesthesia, I struggled to find my voice. "How’s my baby? Is it a boy or a girl?" I heard a faint voice answer, "A boy." "Oh, that’s nice," I replied as I closed my heavy lids and drifted back to sleep.
The following morning, I was hungry but was surprised to see a nurse sitting next to my bed, dozing off. She woke with a start. I felt like I slept for an eternity. I asked her, "Where’s my baby? Can I see him?" The nurse did not reply. I repeated the question but this time, I felt like my heart was hit by a big, heavy anchor. She looked lost and was groping for a politically-correct reply. "Maybe we should wait for your doctor." Choking now and gripping my chest, I asked the nurse again, "Why? Is there something wrong with my baby?" She looked at me with much pain and said, "I’m sorry Mrs. Lopez. Your baby did not survive the operation. He was stillborn."
Was this a bad dream? I remember slipping back into the mattress to rest my head on the pillow. I was very tired. Before I lost consciousness, I heard myself sigh with resignation, "Perhaps, my baby was not meant to be. I will have another one." The words had not completely left my lips when I saw the nurse shake her head. There was more bad news. She held my hand and said, "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Lopez. You cannot have any more children. They removed your uterus."
Manila, April 1976: Nonette, my sister-in-law, was busy sewing new curtains for the house. On Saturday, there will be a party to celebrate the baptism of Martha Louise, her three-month old baby girl who looked exactly like her first born, Jenny. Nonette never tired of telling us the story of how, after giving birth to Martha, she dreamed of St. Martha who came to her in a dream. St. Martha smiled down at her and whispered, "Please name your new baby after me.’ When she woke up, Nonette announced to everyone that she would honor St. Martha’s wish.
Friday night came and the whole house looked so pretty with nursery decorations and balloons ready for the big day. Nonette checked on little Martha who played in her crib after her last feeding. She checked the night light and instructed the yaya to ensure that Martha stayed dry throughout the night.
At three o’clock in the morning, Nonette stood up and went to the nursery to check on Martha. Martha was wide awake. "This little girl knows, like clockwork her feeding time," chuckled Nonette. Martha was in a jolly, playful mood. Nonette stayed until Martha finished her six ounces of milk, had a fresh change of diaper and burped loudly to clear her chest. Nonette gave the crib mobile a good wind so that the nursery tunes would lull little Martha back to sleep. Looking at her darling baby, Nonette whispered, "Good night, my sweet angel." Martha smiled back before she closed her eyes.
At six o’clock, Nonette automatically stood up. Still groping for her slippers, she half dreamily went straight to the nursery. "Hmmm, where’s Martha’s yaya?" Nonette asked herself. When she checked the crib, she saw three or four black ants at the edge of the mattress. Nonette brushed them off quickly and was visibly annoyed. "I must remind yaya to keep the crib impeccably clean." When she picked up Martha, something within her sent off a panic attack. Something was terribly wrong. Martha was very heavy. She was also cold. Very, very cold. Nonette was holding a dead weight. "Oh my God, Martha is not breathing. She’s not breathing. She’s not breathing."
Nonette’s heart thumped so fast it was ready to burst out of her chest, her knees turned to jelly and her stomach churned. She was being drowned by her own screaming frenzy yet she felt she was not screaming loud enough. She woke everyone up. My brother stood next to her as he tried to make sense out of what she was desperately saying. My mother woke up too. Nonette was on the verge of collapsing. All she could mumble was "Mama, mama, Martha is not breathing." My mother pulled Martha from Nonette’s tight grip and quickly rushed her to the altar to pour holy water on her head. "I baptize you in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit."
The world of Nonette caved in that day. Martha was a victim of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). What was supposed to be a joyful baptismal celebration turned to a funeral wake.
ANA Hotel, Singapore, July 2002: My grandson Gabriel (Gab) woke up from his afternoon nap after a full day’s tour of Sentosa Island and the zoo. While playing with his new toy, I decided to brush my teeth so I told Gab not to go anywhere while his Nonna was in the bathroom.
Barely a minute passed when that suspicious silence hit me. I poked my head out of the bathroom door and called Gab. He didn’t answer. I rushed out to the bedroom and found it empty. Flustered and confused, I instinctively checked under the beds in case Gab was playing hide and seek. That’s when terror gripped me. I realized we were on the 18th floor. "Check the windows," a voice within me seemed to rise from the ground. There was a mix of horror and the surreal. My head spun out of control as I felt myself being sucked in a whirlpool. I heaved a big sigh and quickly said a prayer when I saw that the windows were locked. Panic struck again however, when I saw the front door of our room partly opened. Crying like a woman gone mad, I called Gab but the empty hallway only amplified my distressed echo.
I rushed back to the room, grabbed the phone and pressed the front desk button. Shaking like a leaf, I cried, "I’m Mrs. Lopez on the 18th floor, my grandson is missing and he’s only three!"
The manager tried to pacify me but I had no time to listen. I rushed out to the foyer as one elevator door opened. There was Gab! The housekeeper found him wandering on the 3rd floor looking for his Nonna (I want my Nonna.) The housekeeper was holding Gab’s hand. Next to her stood the same manager who took my call. The manager related to me what he did.
When my line went dead, he immediately checked the (security) monitor cameras of the hotel and spotted Gab wandering about. "We knew he couldn’t have gotten far, Mrs. Lopez," he said. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I felt my heart jump back to life as I wrapped Gab around my arms giving him the tightest hug I could muster. My poor baby was barefoot and walking in his diapers.
When I asked Gab where he went, he whispered in his waffling, toddler lingo, "Nonna, I went to check the elevator, so I pressed (number) 3. (When the door opened) I saw Yaya (the hotel housekeeper) but she was different, so I asked for my Nonna. "Why are you shaking, Nonna?"
My blood still runs cold whenever I think about it.
What if?
Manila, January 1975: This was my second pregnancy and I was on my sixth month. I had my regular check-up and my obstetrician confirmed that my baby was healthy and was expected to be bigger and heavier than my first born. I thought so too.
After lunch, I felt a stabbing pain in my belly that pushed down to my bladder. "It must have been the calamansi‚ juice," I thought. I ignored the pain and continued typing a letter. The pain not only intensified but there was that persistent, uncomfortable urge to relieve myself. I was in and out of the bathroom. The pain soon spread to my back and went down to my legs. I had to hold on to my stomach because it felt so heavy that I had trouble walking. My hands turned clammy and I broke into a cold sweat. Something was terribly wrong. My amah was very concerned and said, "Believe me Letty; you have all the signs of a woman who’s in labor. We must get you to the hospital."
In the emergency room, the resident took my pulse and his face turned white. He summoned the nurse to bring a device that could monitor the heartbeat of the fetus. When the nurse placed the device to my stomach, she could not get any heartbeat. I held my breath and told the nurse, "Put your instrument at the base of my tummy. My baby is probably moving around that area." She nodded and followed my suggestion. Before I could ask her whether she found any heartbeat, my doctor arrived. After the rudimentary examination, she held my hand and said, "Letty, I will perform a caesarean and get your baby out, okay? Your husband has agreed to the procedure and he is waiting outside the operating theater."
I barely had any time to ask her what was wrong; my baby has not reached his full term yet.
The last thing I remembered was looking up at the ceiling and being blinded by the bright circular lights of the white-tiled operating room. I woke up at the sight of several faces wearing surgical masks looking down at me. "You are one lucky woman," sighed the anesthesiologist. "We nearly lost you." "You are safe now, Letty," my doctor emphasized. Groggy from the anesthesia, I struggled to find my voice. "How’s my baby? Is it a boy or a girl?" I heard a faint voice answer, "A boy." "Oh, that’s nice," I replied as I closed my heavy lids and drifted back to sleep.
The following morning, I was hungry but was surprised to see a nurse sitting next to my bed, dozing off. She woke with a start. I felt like I slept for an eternity. I asked her, "Where’s my baby? Can I see him?" The nurse did not reply. I repeated the question but this time, I felt like my heart was hit by a big, heavy anchor. She looked lost and was groping for a politically-correct reply. "Maybe we should wait for your doctor." Choking now and gripping my chest, I asked the nurse again, "Why? Is there something wrong with my baby?" She looked at me with much pain and said, "I’m sorry Mrs. Lopez. Your baby did not survive the operation. He was stillborn."
Was this a bad dream? I remember slipping back into the mattress to rest my head on the pillow. I was very tired. Before I lost consciousness, I heard myself sigh with resignation, "Perhaps, my baby was not meant to be. I will have another one." The words had not completely left my lips when I saw the nurse shake her head. There was more bad news. She held my hand and said, "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Lopez. You cannot have any more children. They removed your uterus."
Friday night came and the whole house looked so pretty with nursery decorations and balloons ready for the big day. Nonette checked on little Martha who played in her crib after her last feeding. She checked the night light and instructed the yaya to ensure that Martha stayed dry throughout the night.
At three o’clock in the morning, Nonette stood up and went to the nursery to check on Martha. Martha was wide awake. "This little girl knows, like clockwork her feeding time," chuckled Nonette. Martha was in a jolly, playful mood. Nonette stayed until Martha finished her six ounces of milk, had a fresh change of diaper and burped loudly to clear her chest. Nonette gave the crib mobile a good wind so that the nursery tunes would lull little Martha back to sleep. Looking at her darling baby, Nonette whispered, "Good night, my sweet angel." Martha smiled back before she closed her eyes.
At six o’clock, Nonette automatically stood up. Still groping for her slippers, she half dreamily went straight to the nursery. "Hmmm, where’s Martha’s yaya?" Nonette asked herself. When she checked the crib, she saw three or four black ants at the edge of the mattress. Nonette brushed them off quickly and was visibly annoyed. "I must remind yaya to keep the crib impeccably clean." When she picked up Martha, something within her sent off a panic attack. Something was terribly wrong. Martha was very heavy. She was also cold. Very, very cold. Nonette was holding a dead weight. "Oh my God, Martha is not breathing. She’s not breathing. She’s not breathing."
Nonette’s heart thumped so fast it was ready to burst out of her chest, her knees turned to jelly and her stomach churned. She was being drowned by her own screaming frenzy yet she felt she was not screaming loud enough. She woke everyone up. My brother stood next to her as he tried to make sense out of what she was desperately saying. My mother woke up too. Nonette was on the verge of collapsing. All she could mumble was "Mama, mama, Martha is not breathing." My mother pulled Martha from Nonette’s tight grip and quickly rushed her to the altar to pour holy water on her head. "I baptize you in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit."
The world of Nonette caved in that day. Martha was a victim of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). What was supposed to be a joyful baptismal celebration turned to a funeral wake.
Barely a minute passed when that suspicious silence hit me. I poked my head out of the bathroom door and called Gab. He didn’t answer. I rushed out to the bedroom and found it empty. Flustered and confused, I instinctively checked under the beds in case Gab was playing hide and seek. That’s when terror gripped me. I realized we were on the 18th floor. "Check the windows," a voice within me seemed to rise from the ground. There was a mix of horror and the surreal. My head spun out of control as I felt myself being sucked in a whirlpool. I heaved a big sigh and quickly said a prayer when I saw that the windows were locked. Panic struck again however, when I saw the front door of our room partly opened. Crying like a woman gone mad, I called Gab but the empty hallway only amplified my distressed echo.
I rushed back to the room, grabbed the phone and pressed the front desk button. Shaking like a leaf, I cried, "I’m Mrs. Lopez on the 18th floor, my grandson is missing and he’s only three!"
The manager tried to pacify me but I had no time to listen. I rushed out to the foyer as one elevator door opened. There was Gab! The housekeeper found him wandering on the 3rd floor looking for his Nonna (I want my Nonna.) The housekeeper was holding Gab’s hand. Next to her stood the same manager who took my call. The manager related to me what he did.
When my line went dead, he immediately checked the (security) monitor cameras of the hotel and spotted Gab wandering about. "We knew he couldn’t have gotten far, Mrs. Lopez," he said. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I felt my heart jump back to life as I wrapped Gab around my arms giving him the tightest hug I could muster. My poor baby was barefoot and walking in his diapers.
When I asked Gab where he went, he whispered in his waffling, toddler lingo, "Nonna, I went to check the elevator, so I pressed (number) 3. (When the door opened) I saw Yaya (the hotel housekeeper) but she was different, so I asked for my Nonna. "Why are you shaking, Nonna?"
My blood still runs cold whenever I think about it.
What if?
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