Peksman

Peksman - 5

"Dad..." My 29 year old daughter called out. She was red faced and in tears, her hair messy.

She had moved out a year ago after her marriage with Francis. I have been living alone, only my work to keep me busy. This was the first time in a long time that she visited me again.

"What happened, my darling?" I asked, my voice concerned but firm. If she says her husband cheated on her, I'd be out the door and into their house in a heartbeat.

"I'm just stressed out, dad. I've been having extreme emotions and lashed out on Francis a couple of times. Nagsusuka rin ako at nahihilo palagi," she mentioned.

Being a father, I immediately had an answer. A guess or a hunch, is more like it.

"Darling, your mother was the same. You might be pregnant..."

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Sharlene has been quiet all throughout our ride home. She has been emotionless after our visit to the hospital and I felt scared, because I knew a storm was brewing inside.

As she closed our front door, she slumped on the ground. Desperately crying and throwing away everything her hands could reach. "Failure ako, Donny! Iwan mo na ako!" She screamed, her voice harsh and coarse.

I felt tears building up on the sides of my eyeballs. I calmly scrouched down beside her and took her into my arms to calm her down. As I tried to sush and lull her, I kissed the top of her head and spoke in a quiet voice. "It's okay. We're okay. Baka hindi pa talaga time for us."

We have been married for 2 years. And in those 2 years - she already had 3 miscarriages. She had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, an imbalance in the hormones which caused her to have difficulty in conceiving a child. We learned about it when we took her in for a check up after she had excessive bleeding.

I understand her frustration - I do not merely want to be a husband, I also want to be a father. But her pain is stronger, physically and emotionally because she feels she's at fault.

"Deserve mo ng asawang mabibigyan ka ng anak. Hindi ko 'yun magawa-gawa," she spoke with anger, her tears continously drowning her face.

"I'm here for the long run, hindi kita pinakasalan dahil gusto ko madali lahat. We can try and try, Shar," I cooed.

As we sat there, wet from tears and surrounded by brokenness, we knew we had to hold on to each other. Her crying lessened after a while, yet her desperation lingered a few moments more.

But we did try again. And that time, we succeded. With restrictions. The doctor warned that her pregnancy would be delicate - and delicate being the easy word for it. It was high risk, but Sharlene was determined.

The day of her labor, I held her hand in mine, trying to lessen her pain if it were humanly possible. She tried to push out the words as she breathed heavily, "Donny, 'pag pinapili ka sa amin, please choose her..."

My grip on her loosened. My body weakened. My mouth stuttered with the right words. "'Wag... 'Wag mong sabihin 'yan. You'll both be safe, trust me."

I tried sounding sure, but it didn't come out that way - all because I knew choosing between the both of them is a possible resolution. A fact I can't deny.

She weakly shook her head in anguish. "Donny, ipangako mo sakin 'yan. Peksman?"

At the sound of her pleading voice, I knew I had to say yes. What was painful was because I had to reply with the same word we used when we met, when we became best friends, lovers, and even as a married couple.

"Peksman." I said.

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"Sharlene would have been a good mom to you. I am sure of it," I said, smiling sadly at our daughter who never had the opportunity to meet her.

Tears started to fall across her face again. "I'm sorry dad... I'm sorry you had to choose."

I heaved a sigh because it was hard to choose, and even harder to cope with the choice I made.

"I never regretted it. Saying 'Peksman' was a promise, and that's what you are. That's why you were named Promise."