Illustration by Lucille Garibay
There is nothing easy about being a mother. It is the toughest job in the world. The difficulty is further amplified when you factor in running the sports channel of the country’s most respected news website. It is like raising two kids of the same age at the same time—only both live in separate houses, separated by a long, patience-testing commute.
You really have to love and be in love with both to make it through one day.
Every day is a circus act; I navigate tightropes on tiptoes trying not to fall but end up failing anyway. I try my hardest to never fail at both, but sometimes I tend to trade the craziness of one for the solace of the other. The sides are interchangeable, but there is always that heavy feeling of guilt whenever I find comfort in the chaos of chasing deadlines on a frantic news day than dealing with my fuzzy, inconsolable daughter. It is easier to doll yourself up casually than to settle for the endearingly disheveled look of motherhood. While those moments are few and fleeting, the guilt always finds a way to creep up on me.
I guess that happens when you become a mom at 25, when I’ve been everything but prepared, when just a few months before I stared at a stick bearing two faint lines, in total shock, all I had thought about was my career.
That’s my life there. And this is my story: Getting pregnant early threw me for a loop. I had been careless at a time when I had been nothing but carefree. My bank account wasn’t ready for costly pedia visits, let alone for a secure future for my daughter. I wasn’t able to steel myself for years of soiled diapers and incomprehensible crying because it really wasn’t part of my plan. I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready for the enormity of raising a child.
But you never really know what life-changing truly means until you’ve held an infant in your arms and have someone so delicate and innocent depend on you for survival. Being a mother changed me, and the landscape of my life. In a snap, I went from a career woman full of dreams to someone willing to throw all that away just to be at my daughter’s side when I’m needed, which is basically all the time.
Months after I’ve come to terms that I was indeed giving up chase for the life I wanted for the life I was dealt with and ultimately accepted, an opportunity for me to enjoy best of both worlds—to continue living my dream as a sports writer—presented itself. I couldn’t say no, even if it meant the end of morning playtime and afternoon naps with my little princess.
Yes, I reentered the workforce because I still wanted it. I craved for the rush of the meetings, the thrill of covering a sporting event. But this time, it wasn’t just about that. When you’re a mother, it’s never just about you anymore. I said yes to the job, to the long hours, to the behind-numbing commute to Makati because I wanted to be able to provide her the kind of life I didn’t have.
But every time I would bury myself in work, times that I would be so swamped that my daughter doesn’t even cross my mind, an uneasy feeling settles in my gut: I’m a horrible mother. And when you spend more time at your office desk than at home, that feeling is magnified by the littlest of things. When I find her rolling over with such ease and I don’t even have a clue when she started doing it. When I miss doctor’s appointments, or when get home to my daughter already fast asleep, seemingly bigger than the last time I saw her, and knowing that there is no end to the late nights unless I quit—that’s when that horrible feeling is multiplied a thousand-fold.
Because even after I’ve wrapped up a challenging coverage, successfully presided a big meeting, or got a pat on the back from the bosses, seeing my daughter get up on all fours for the first time, smiling happily at me with her infectious smile and expressive eyes, will always be the highlight of my day. Her milestones will always trump mine. I take pride in everything she does, be it as small as her sucking on hands or as big as her eating solid food for the first time.
Yes, I know. There will be overwhelming moments when I would want to pack my bags and just go. Maybe I will always have those few minutes when I’d rather be at work. But when your love for something runs so deep, like how my love for my daughter does, you will always choose to come home. After a long day at work, nothing beats the warmth seeing my daughter smile in her sleep brings.
A mother’s job is never done, much less a working mom’s. I just have to keep on reminding myself that everything I’m doing is for her, that I’m striving to do well because I want her to be proud of me, and that I’m juggling two hats to give her a better future.
Celest (@_celestial) writes and manages the sports section of INQUIRER.net for a living. It has been six exhausting months with her daughter Myrcella Celestine. Though it came as a surprise, she wouldn’t trade being a mother for anything in the world.
PREVIOUS ENTRIES
The last time I will write about us
A love greater than the distance of our birth years