Today, my high school classmates are seeing the white sand beaches of Kalanggaman Island; my office mates, taking a breather in Oslob; and I, stuck at home, in my bed, counting the hours. This is perhaps one of the downsides of having a baby early–you never get to go out as much. There’s just no escaping.
S and I have talked about this last night. About the outings and parties we’ll have to miss out on, the dreams we’ll have to put on hold, and the responsibilities we ought to fulfill. Self-pity, inevitable as it is, has no place in the equation.
I’m proud of us, of how we’re taking all these maturely. But it’s not easy, especially if all I’m seeing on my Facebook and Instagram feed are photos of twentysomethings having fun, reaching places, making their dreams come true, and apparently, not making babies. Things, I believed, I ought to be doing too at 21.
It’s selfish of me, knowing these thoughts border on regret. But at the end of the day, I know I always have a choice. And the choice I always choose every day is to accept what I am now and what I will become. It’s not an ideal situation, yes, but it’s how you make of the situation that defines the outcome. And this, this is not a stop sign. Just a ‘slow down’ sign.
So if yesterday, I was the sulky, lazy, unmotivated twentysomething trying to figure out life, today, I am a grown-up carrying life. And this new life deserves no backward glances, no what ifs and if onlys; just love, pure love and acceptance.