For the past couple of weeks, I honestly thought I was finally āback.ā
My energy came back. I can wake up early again. I can work again. My brain feels clearer. I donāt feel as physically drained as I did the past few months.
After everything my body went through recently, especially after the D&C, that already felt like a huge thing.
But even though I feel better, Iāve been noticing something I canāt ignore.
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I can feel it.
My energy is slowly coming back.
Not all at once. Not like before.
But enough for me to notice.
And Iām grateful.
But at the same timeā¦
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There was a time when I thought having it all meant doing it all: at the same time, at full speed, without pause.
And when I couldnāt?
I felt like I was failing.
But this past weekā¦ something shifted.
Not in a loud, dramatic way.
But in the quiet, gentle return of me.
Iāve always been strong.
I run businesses, albeit small.
I take care of my family.
I show up for everyone.
And I know Iām not the only one.
A lot of momsā¦ a lot of wivesā¦ are like this.
We carry so much.
We keep going, even when weāre tired.
We hold everything together, even when weāre quietly falling apart inside.
And sometimes, we donāt even realize how much weāve been carryingā¦
until something breaks us open.
Writing the story of Baby Lux has been one of the most emotional things I have ever done.
In the span of a few weeks, we experienced hope, fear, confusion, grief, surgery, and healing.
We learned how fragile life can be.
We learned how strong love can be.
And we learned that sometimes the deepest wounds also reveal the deepest parts of our hearts.
Baby Lux was with us for only a short time.
But that short time changed us.
Our family will never be the same again.
And strangelyā¦ that is not entirely a sad thing.
Because in the middle of losing a child, we also discovered something powerful: How deeply we love each other.
And just when I was ready to give up on the precious act of lovemaking, something unexpected has been happening to me these past few days.
And Iām almost embarrassed to admit it out loud…
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(The Final Chapter of the Baby Lux Story)
The night before the surgery was the night we were admitted through the Emergency Room.
Everything had happened so quickly ā the unexpected ultrasound results, the doctorās explanation about a possible molar pregnancy, the sudden instruction to go straight to the hospital.
By the time we were finally settled into our room, all three of us were emotionally drained.
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Itās February 1 today.
And instead of planning this post properly, I ended up rereading something I wrote a year ago ā āFebruary: The Month I Finally Choose Me.ā
I didnāt mean to analyze it. I just wanted to remember how I was feeling back then.
Short answer: tired. Even a little defiant.
Hopeful, yes. But very, very tired.
What struck me most was the list I made.
On one hand, I listed all the things that were working ā businesses moving forward, improvements at Oslob New Village, new VA clients, better communication in our marriage. At the time, I acknowledged those wins but somehow still felt like I was falling behind.
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A quick note before you read:
I wrote this reflection during the first week of January, when things felt clear, grounded, and quietly victorious. I planned to publish it then… but life continued to unfold.
The days that followed were full. There was HR work for Oslob New Village. Tasks included hiring and screening, as well as managing payroll systems. Compliance was also addressed. Additionally, there was the invisible weight of holding a growing business and a family at the same time.
Sleep became irregular. Regulation became a daily practice again.
Iām sharing this now from Bohol. I arrived on January 18. I am slowing my nervous system down and allowing myself to rest. The wins still matter. And so does the honesty about what came after.
This post isnāt about perfection.
Itās about continuity.
Here’s a little glimpse of our arrival in Bohol before we dive back to the first week of January….
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Iāve carried this story quietly for a long time…
Ever since we moved to Oslob in 2021, Iāve been holding an ache I didnāt always know how to name ā the ache of leaving a home I loved.
Letting go of our Alabang townhouse broke my heart in ways I didnāt expect. We left because life required it: farming plans, business decisions, homeschooling, practicality, survival.
And since then, weāve never really gone back, except for a short visit two years ago that only reminded me of what we had left behind.
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I havenāt blogged in a long time.
Not because I didnāt have things to say…
but because I kept waiting to feel ready.
I told myself I would write again when my energy was back to 100%.
…When my emotions were settled.
…When my health felt more stable.
…When life felt lighter.
But the truth isā¦
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Last month, I was in such a different place.
September felt hopeful. I had just celebrated reaching my financial goal way ahead of schedule ā in August, no less! š„ I remember feeling proud, grateful, and full of energy. I even wrote about my excitement to finally start doing things differently. I wanted to create from a place of joy. I aimed to explore projects that truly spark something in me.
I thought October would be the month Iād ride that wave of momentum.
But here I amā¦ and it doesnāt feel that way at all.
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