The Day I Hated Being a Parent

When friends were kept awake to watch out for the rising waters brought by Typhoon “Pedring” (international name “Nesat”), afraid that it might be another “Ondoy” (international name “Ketsana) that devastated the country way back in 2009, I was kept awake with thoughts when I told myself I hated being a parent.

That was also during Typhoon “Ondoy.”

My son, my Mom and Yaya, with her own son, left for a Taekwondo tournament at the Rizal Memorial Sports Complex along Pablo Ocampo Street, near De La Salle University (DSLU) in Taft Avenue, Manila. My son was competing at that time and was required to be at the venue 2 hours before it begins.

They left me at home, with my brother who was still sleeping, as I can’t go in the sports complex along with the rest of the parents and other people (call them mob) walking in. I had a major surgery 8 days before and my wounds haven’t healed yet. I didn’t want to be bumped into by overly excited parents watching their children compete. I decided I would come in late, probably after the first round, when people have settled in their seats.

Of course, I never got to the Rizal Memorial Sports Complex. As my Mom called giving me a blow-by-blow account of my son’s first round (he won, by the way), I was also giving her updates on how water was coming in inside our house. I told her that as soon as water subsides, my brother and I would leave the house and try to get to the sports complex.

We were one of the few lucky ones. The worst flood we ever had inside the house was only an inch-deep. And all throughout the storm, we had electricity and so we were able to watch the devastating scenes that “Ondoy” brought in other areas of the city. Facebook was also a great resource of real-time news then.

From the news, we saw that the University of the East Memorial Medical Center, a mere 5-minute ride from where I live, was flooded up to the second floor. Claro M. Recto, the university belt, was flooded more than waist-deep. Since our place was sandwiched between these two places, my brother and I concluded that this was no ordinary typhoon. This was a catastrophe. We decided not to leave the house and called my Mom about it.

The tournament was still on going, my Mom said. I told her that even if the tournament is finished, they should wait for my signal to go home. The main road outside where we live is prone to floods, and if our surrounding areas were flooded, then the main road would most likely be flooded too.

My brother and I eventually got tired trying to bring out the water from our house. We focused ourselves instead in bringing up to the bedrooms the important stuff that we have here on the first floor, just in case the floodwater rises. Well, it was actually he doing the actual work and me, commanding. I can’t carry any heavy stuff because of the surgery.

Seeing Facebook photos of Taft Avenue, particularly those uploaded by DLSU students, made me so much more worried. Floodwaters were about neck-deep out there! I immediately called my Mom and informed her about it. She told me that the tournament has also been called off as floodwaters were coming in fast inside the exhibition floor. All the players, parents and other audience were asked to transfer to the third level bleachers.

It was then that I realized, this was going to be a long day.

I told my Mom to turn off her mobile phone to save battery life, and open it every 2 to 3 hours. I will be giving updates as to when it would be safe for all of them to come home.

And this was pretty much the case for the next 24 hours.

I was consumed with worry. I know that my family was safe because they’re inside a sports complex, along with other parents and children, and that they’re sitting at the third floor bleachers, a safe height, really.

But they didn’t have food with them. I was supposed to buy lunch for them when I get there. Good thing my son’s teammates’ parents have shared a portion of their food.

The sports complex had no electricity either, so it was really difficult even to go to the comfort room at night. Who would bring a flashlight in a tournament happening in the morning?

At home, we lost power around 9pm. Since I couldn’t get news anymore from TV and the internet, I would go outside our house to check how fast or slow the flood water subsides, and then text it to my Mom. I did this every hour, not sleeping throughout the night, patiently counting the minutes until I could go outside again to check the floodwaters.

I was too overwhelmed by worry, but tried so hard to keep myself calm and not panic. It was emotionally difficult to be consumed by worry and panic and then forcing yourself to stay sane. I could only post my woes on my Facebook through my mobile phone, but couldn’t really do much about it. I’ve called up vans and SUVs we regularly rent from work to try and pick up my family, but they said that floodwaters at Taft Avenue haven’t subsided yet. Some were still stuck in the flood.

I’ve never had such worse feelings before – I was in panic, I was worried, I was helpless. And I hated it so much. If I were not a parent, I probably wouldn’t have these feelings. I so hated being a parent at this time.

I fell asleep around 5am, quietly crying out of desperation that I couldn’t do anything for my son.

I woke up from a ring. It was my Mom. She said that a lot of parents are going to try to go home even if the floodwaters outside the sports complex were still about knee-deep. I quickly went outside and walked for about 100 meters to check if the main road outside our subdivision was still flooded. It was not. I told my Mom to take the LRTs instead so they don’t have to go through any flooded streets. Thank goodness for the MRT and the LRTs continuously operating for 24 hours.

By 8:30am, my son was home.

We were one of the lucky ones. But a lot, a whole lot of people have suffered from this catastrophic Typhoon “Ondoy.” I have friends and co-workers whose entire house was flooded. From the news, we saw people who died, either trapped inside their own homes or washed away along with their homes. We could only pray that the devastation we experienced from “Ondoy” never happens again.

And for me, I only hated being a parent on this day. Nothing more. I’m still one proud Mama of an adventurous kid.