they say women emasculate. that they are control-freaks. that they are bossy and demanding. people are so quick to judge that they often forget to delve into the ifs and whys. what happened to reaching behind the logic of why women like me become creatures they call "monsters".

let me elaborate. women do not control to simply test their powers. they don't boss around just because they revel at the sight or at the idea of men scampering over their women's orders. they don't demand just because they want to trouble their men and they most certainly don't emasculate on purpose just so they can step on "balls".

of course, these imperfections surely stemmed from somewhere. things that ought to be done and word that should be uttered but aren't. they control because someone refuses to step up. pretty much like when you need to get somewhere and someone needs to drive. you'd very much prefer to sit on the passenger's side but no body budges. so you grab the keys and force yourself to take the wheel. except that you had no idea the trip was all the way to timbuktu. deep in your heart you long to enjoy the scenery and relish the road trip. except you forget that it's you driving and that you need to focus on the road ahead. and before you know it, you figure that it's the only way you know how to get to where it is you are headed. being the driver.

and every driver and every road trip needs a rest. before exhaustion and sleep creeps in, the need to slow down and park on the curbside is a must. except no one wants to take over. so you get grumpy, and become THAT monster. ii guess you get the picture.

all i am saying is women cannot keep treading against waves crashing upon them when every single bone in their body screams exhaustion. they cannot keep doing chores and work in between when every limb they have says they are weary and need some rest. they cannot keep hurting, battling against enemies while they shield other people from getting hurt. they cannot keep taking care of others while they themselves suffer from aches and pains everywhere.

and they cannot keep walking on eggshells afraid of bruising an ego while doing ALL these things at the same time.

every woman is human. and there are days when every neuron in their head probably transmits burnout.

I watched Knocked Up yesterday and yes I know, I’m about four years too late. Everyone who has seen it, has told me what a nice film it was and that I ought to see it. I’m like naaah. See, I’m not exactly a Seth Rogen fan. And even if I adored Katherine Heigel, it still wasn't enough of a motivation to go out of my way to see it. But out of sheer boredom, I finally gave it a shot. True enough, it was indeed nice. Well, nice is too tame a word. It was in fact, a film that touched me to the core.  Soooo, like the babbler that you all know I am, I’m gonna let you in on my own “knocked up” story and my random thoughts on marriage.

 ~ Being knocked up 12 years ago, I somehow identified with Alison.  While my pregnancy was not unwanted, it certainly was unexpected. What? Two jobless, college drop-outs weren't exactly the best candidates for parenthood. I was still there in my “slumming around” phase and I was in no way ready to have a baby. Emotionally, mentally and financially. But like the impetuous, foolish people that we were, we jumped in (read: dragged each other) with both feet, never really thinking of the logistics, no clear plan at all. We only had two things on our minds. We loved each other and we wanted to keep the baby. And of course I thought,  I was lucky enough this time that my man wasn't suffering with the “runaway-man syndrome re: pregnancy”. My boyfriend was a willing and committed one. Hallelujah! And according to Ben's (Rogen) dad in the film "Life doesn't care about your vision. You just gotta roll with it". That's what I did, I rolled with it.

~ You know the drill, right? Graduation, having a stable job, snagging an equally stable fiancé, getting married, planning a baby, getting pregnant and giving birth?  Well, mine was a totally messed up equation.  But like I said, I was too stubborn to admit that my life was one big clutter. I got married. Like any person in love, the first few months were total  bliss. Getting to be with the person you love 24/7. Nothing gets better than that, right? As my belly grew bigger, it began sinking in. The huge and heavy word called "responsibility" was looking at us straight in the eye. Pre-natal check ups, vitamins and baby stuff. Along with every back ache and cramp, came the financial worry for the delivery and all sorts of expenses. Luckily, my mom and sisters and brother loved me enough to help us get through it all. Not just emotionally but more importantly, financially. Thank God for family :)

 ~ Finally Jam arrived. The thought of another human being coming out of me was truly unbelievable. All the cliché about seeing and holding your child for the first time, how beautiful it all was? Everything was true and fell into place. But the part where you cry? They didn’t tell me that. I thought it was just out of sheer happiness. Nobody said it was something like,  "Holy s__t!  This tiny human being that just came out of me will be my lifetime responsibility!" No sir, that was not in the books I read. They forgot the part where it all finally sinks in and you say in your head, "Oh nooo! I can't shove it back in where it came from!” The mess I usually create, I could shove under the rug. But this time, this one was here to stay.  So yes it's basically 25% tears of joy and 75% friggin' FEAR. At least, for me. 

~ Oh! The joys of waking in the wee hours of the morning, feeding the little whiner. I had actually yelled at my 2 wk old son and threatened to throw him into the window if he didn't stop crying! My mother almost whacked me! But can you blame a 22 y/o, sleep-deprived, insecure, fat-assed, suddenly-subdued woman for her frustrations? Night after night, I’d cry. I felt suffocated. I wanted to scream. I wanted out. And I kept saying in my head, “Can someone hit the rewind button please! I want my old life back!” And I couldn’t tell my husband because I feared that he wanted out, too. And that would have been too much for me. I knew he was getting tired of my constant whining and crying, not to mention, he was sleep-deprived, too. Although I was guilt-stricken, I was more self-centered. I know it sounds cocky when I say he loved me too much that he gave in to all my whims and demands (whether rational or not). But it was what I needed to keep my sanity. When the post partum blues finally wore out, I learned to appreciate and find some sense of semblance in my life. I realized that this man I married is whole-heartedly committed to me and our family to put up with all my madness and absurdity. Night after night, he’d wake up (with me awake or not), to feed, change diapers and sing rocks songs to lull Jam to sleep. If that wasn’t enough proof of commitment, then I don’t know what else is.

~ We married young and were quite unprepared for the things that marriage entailed. I always thought that  Love was enough to keep you alive, like the Eagles song said it will. And I thought (like another song said) that 'eventhough we ain't got money', it was okay because ' I'm so in love with (my) honey'...aba malay ko ba naman? At 22, what did we know about marriage, anyway? What did I know? NOTHING. As the years rolled by, I began to know things. I discovered how utterly beautiful yet difficult it was, to share a life with someone. I began to come to terms with the fact that this wasn't just a long time relationship ala bf-gf that when you've had enough, you can just get up, walk away and leave. It was a covenant. No matter how hard things may become, you HAVE to make it work. no matter how much the person beside you drives you nuts, you MUST stick it out. I was really in for the loooong-haul this time.

You know what else I think? I think that no matter how young or old you get hitched, nothing really prepares you for it. Whether you dated or were engaged for years or decided to elope after going steady for just a month, or were hauled into it because of an unexpected preganancy...at the end of the day it's all a wager. Discovery weekends and pre marriage counseling will all help but ultimately it is your whole-hearted decision to commit and follow through, that will truly get you through the days, weeks, months, years and decades of marriage. When one decides to commit to another person, you not just decide to love all the good in your partner but all the bullsh!ts and the baggages that come with it...with him/her.  

~ Pete (Paul Rudd) said in the film, "Marriage is like a tense, unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond, only it doesn't last 22 minutes. It lasts forever."  Like any other marriage, mine isn't perfect. The yelling and cursing? We do that. (Well, cursing is just mostly done by me :P) The walk outs in the middle of a fight? Hubby does that. The nagging? I do that. Parenting style and conflicts? Check. In-law issues? We have that. Financial crisis? We survive.  All because we aren't immune. That's what all marriages go through day after day after day. Everyday is a test of your commitment.  And when all these happen, my pride are both an asset and a liability to my marriage. Asset, because I'm too proud to admit that I can't make things work. I hate the thought of my investment going wrong. I hate that people will say "That's what happens when you marry young", or "sabi na nga ba eh". At the same time, this pride is often to be blamed for things going awry, like when I refuse to admit being wrong, demanding what I thought I deserved and thus become a thorn on hubby's side.

TO SUM IT ALL UP...

Most of the time getting knocked up equates to inconvenient responsibilities but SOMETIMES it becomes an unexpected blessing. It was to me. Getting knocked up  forced me to grow up and take control of my life. My marriage in all its delight and sorrow, humor and drama, bliss and woe, comfort and heartache, euphoria and dysphoria…all of these shaped the woman I have become now. Being a parent took away my self-centeredness. I became less wrapped up in myself and my priorities shifted towards my children.  Becoming a mother made me responsible not just for my life but the lives of the pretty little human beings I sired. Twelve years ago, I was a total mess. Today I am a walking pillar of strength and a work still in progress. So I guess at this point,  thank you is in order. To Dad for getting me knocked up. And to God, only You can choose a better man to knock me up. **wink**