The moment I found out that I was pregnant, it was as if my world stopped. I knew I was going to have my baby, but other than that, I didn’t know what to do. I was absolutely sure of just one thing—my life, as I know it, was about to change. Little did I know that the change was going to be on a whole other level.
I ended the year 2007 in one of the worst ways possible. On December 31st, my son Matthew started showing symptoms of his current condition. That morning, he was unconsciously doing some jerky movements. At first, I dismissed it as a newborn quirk, as he was only two weeks old. As the day went on, the jerks started to become too close to each other—from two-hour intervals, down to one hour in between.
As we were hearing Mass that night, it started happening 30 minutes apart, and much stronger. I can never forget the look on his face. It was as if he wasn’t there. In the middle of singing Ama Namin, tears started rolling down my face and onto his, as I held him tightly to my chest.
A couple of hours later saw us at the emergency room. Surrounded by doctors, I was still uneasy, because no one knew yet what was happening to him. All we could do was wait.
The next five weeks were a flurry of tests, blood extractions, IV and oral medicines, and a month in the hospital. He had gone through procedures that some adults don’t even experience in their lifetime. But I realized that I had to be strong, for him, because he would draw his strength from me.
In the end, he was clinically diagnosed with DiGeorge Syndrome, a congenital genetic condition. Matthew had no thymus, which is responsible for training a certain type of immune system cells to fight off virus and bacteria. He had low levels of calcium, magnesium, and parathyroid hormones; and certain developmental and growth delays.
The second time he was rushed to the ER and then brought to the ICU, I made a firm decision to resign from work. Still on maternity leave, I knew I couldn’t leave him with a nanny. I had to be with him, just in case.
Since then, we’ve been doing our best to shield him from getting sick. He stays mostly at home, only going out for blood tests, check-ups, and weekly trips to the park. No one with so much as the sniffles can go near him. Anyone who touches him has to have had showered and washed hands. But I do whatever I can to make him live a normal life as his condition allows. Thankfully, I still live with my parents, so I have them and the rest of my siblings to help me out.
What does the future hold for both of us? It is possible he will outgrow the symptoms, hopefully, in a few years. Then he can start being with other people. I hold on to that thought, while praying.
I am constantly afraid that he might catch a virus or bacteria that his body won’t be able to fight. Just like any parent, all I wanted was for him to be healthy. But I never questioned God and never will. He has His reasons; He will not give me something that I’m not capable of handling. Matthew is His son, whom He entrusted to me. He is an angel, and he is a fighter. We will fight this battle together and soldier on.
Katrina is a stay-at-home mom who does freelance and part-time work so she can be with Matthew, who turns two years old on the 19th.