When God Closes a Door, Somewhere He Opens a Window

Hubby always tells me -- Let go! Snap out of it!

It's been 8 months since I lost Lira, my 2nd daughter. And 8 months since I neglected my flourishing business. In my mind, they were born together. It was last February 2010 when I learned that I will be flying to the Netherlands to be a part of BiD Networks Women in Business competition, a vision that I have been eyeing after Rags2Riches won the grand prize of the BiD Challenge in 2009. By end February, I got pregnant. Last July 17, Lira died at 22 weeks of my pregnancy. My business died with her.

Today, my major retailer decided to pull out my product from their store because of its poor performance. I know why. I stopped marketing it. I stopped being aggressive in making it a global brand. But also today, I got an email from BiD, my sponsor in the Netherlands. My business has been upgraded for matchmaking to investors. One very high end resort also just sent me info on their order of the product. I have a mix of emotions now.

When God Closes a Door, Somewhere He Opens a Window.



Lira, my angel, tell me where to go. I want to snap out of this loss and move on.

Eight Hours to Live

Some of my friends envy me because I always seem to have quite normal pregnancies. I don't feel morning sickness at all, I can travel, and I was never required to be on bed rest. But on the 22nd week of my second pregnancy, diarrhea suddenly took the life of my little girl.

I lost Lira last July 17, 2010.

After 3 days in Marikina Valley Hospital, my husband decided to transfer me to the Medical City where my OB is based. I have been experiencing pre-term labor contractions for 3 days. The medications could not do anything. I was so tired. Any movement would hurt any part of my body.

My mom decided to stay with me during the night of the 16th so hubby can take some rest. In the midst of the painful contractions, my water bag broke. I did not realize that I was already pushing the baby out, until I felt her in my underwear. At that moment, all I remembered was I cried and my mom alerted the nurses and doctors that the baby just came out. Mom was telling me, "Wag kang iiyak, magdasal ka" as people were bringing my bed out of the room. There was no time anymore to bring a stretcher. I don't remember praying at that moment. My mind was just blank.

The next thing I knew, I was at the recovery room and hospital staff were asking me to sign the birth the certificate of the baby (with the footprint). My husband also came to me that we had a baby girl, that she's in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and that she was already baptized. My OB also spoke with me, and told me that my daughter will not live long. Her organs were not yet mature to survive the world outside my womb.

Some minutes later, I was brought to the NICU. My baby was so small (498 g), but I can already see that she looked like her older sister. I touched her little feet and at that moment, I just let her go. I knew right then that she belongs to heaven.

I'm writing this so I can gather more strength from the experience. It still pains me each time I remember my very short encounter with my daughter.
But those eight hours of Lira in the outside world was already a miracle. She could have died in minutes. I thank God that I was able to touch her.

Lira is now dancing in heaven with the other angels. Watching over us. As for me and my husband, we still have each other and a daughter who continue to bring us joy and inspiration.