Long distance Love

I do not know if all parents are as anxious as I am. I remember bursting into tears a few days after my son was born and he was brought to my room. I was afraid to hold him because he looked so fragile. I also felt overwhelmed by the idea that I was responsible for another human being's existence and that I could actually screw up his life even without meaning to. As corny as it may sound, I actually imagined and wished that there was some kind of vaccine or a giant bubble that would keep him from being hurt (then again, maybe that was just the Demerol working).

I went back to law school when my son was two weeks old and left him in Cebu with my parents. I suppose that arrangement was not a common one as mothers are expected to stay with their babies. I would hear expressions of surprise and see a lot of raised eyebrows when I told friends and acquaintances where my son was. Maybe I was just being defensive.

The first few weeks of school felt like a blur. I answered "Pass" when called on to recite the requisites of negotiability. Any third year law student would have given the correct answer because this is found in Section 1 of the Negotiable Instruments Law. My classmates gave me dagger looks because this meant they could be called upon to recite and risk getting a 5.0.

I could not stop thinking about my son. The sight of other people's babies would make me wonder what he was doing and, in a lot of instances, make me cry, even in public. While my parents sent me his pictures every few weeks, I had difficulty imagining how he was growing. Because of this, I bought all kinds of books on the development of babies and parenting, with titles like "The First Twelve Months of Life" and "The Second Twelve Months of Life". These books remain unread and are now yellowing on my shelf.

I had a small plant box in the balcony of the studio we were renting and I grew different kinds of coleus (more popularly known as mayana but I like showing off my knowledge of the English names of my four favorite plants, the rest being hibiscus, frangipani and honeysuckle). Seeing my plants grow taller and stronger somehow gave me a better idea of how my son was growing and reassured me that he was becoming taller and stronger too (no Demerol was involved this time, perhaps it was too much instant coffee).

Still, it did not prepare me for the shock I felt when I saw my son again after almost five months. He looked nothing like the infant I left. He had teeth. He could eat ice cream. He could laugh. He was a stranger.

On a trip from Tagbilaran last year, a small boy gripped my hand as I was about to disembark from the fast craft. He was about five and he kept calling me "Mommy" and telling me about his friend. People were jostling and rushing to leave the boat. I did not see the need to correct him and scare him needlessly so I held his hand until he let go when he saw me. He looked shocked after we crossed the gangplank and he realized that I was not his mother. Thankfully, his mother arrived before he could start crying. Unfortunately, he got an earful from her about never leaving her side. I was just relieved that they found each other.

My son is now nine years old. While we live in the same house, my work requires me to work long hours and to travel. When I start becoming anxious when we're not together, I remember the kid in the fast craft. I may not be beside my son all the time but there will be persons who will hold his hand when I cannot and help him cross life's gangplanks.