The Miracle of Love

In February 2010, I shared the story of a parent’s unconditional love for his wayward daughter and a devoted daughter’s unquestioning love and forgiveness for her abusive mother.

That column got a reaction from a STAR reader named Wawel Mercado, who wrote, “It is common for us to hear of the unconditional love of mothers for their children. But the unconditional love of a daughter for her abusive mother is truly very extraordinary and inspiring.”

He then asked if he could share an essay,  titled On Our 14th Wedding Anniversary, on his love for his wife Milagros (“Mila”).

I urged him to share his essay and when I read it, I was awed and humbled. For it was no ordinary ode.

“We were married in 1996,” Wawel wrote.  “Mila got pregnant after our honeymoon, and gave birth to our first child on Oct. 20 of the same year, 10 months after our wedding. A few minutes after giving birth to our daughter Therese, though, Mila had an Amniotic Fluid Embolism. She lost all her vital signs and the delivery room went into Code Blue. This means that she was clinically dead.  Her doctors and the nursing staff put her on life support and were able to revive her, but the hypoxia that resulted caused severe brain damage.

“She fell into a deep coma,” he continued.  “Initially, her prognosis was quite grim, and her doctors thought she would never wake up from her coma, consequently spending the rest of her life in a persistent vegetative state.   But defying medical statistics, she woke up after three weeks. The extensive damage to her brain, though, left her paralyzed, unable to use her arms and legs, and no longer able to speak.”

According to Wawel, Mila was an accomplished ballet dancer in her youth, performing at the CCP Main Theater under the legendary ballet teacher, Vela Damian. When she was older, she taught young children in a dance studio in Makati.  She later became a successful advertising executive, and led a healthy, active lifestyle. She was into aerobics, weight training and wanted to learn how to scuba dive. 

According to Wawel, she was also very devoted to her parents, visited them regularly, and looked after her orphaned nephews and nieces. Loving and demonstrative (Wawel recalled she would often hold his hand in public), Mila also thought the world of him and said he looked like singer Ariel Rivera.

“But all that came to a sudden end after her embolism in 1996,” wrote Wawel (in 2010). “Now, she has been living completely paralyzed for more than 13 years. Yet there is no bitterness in Mila. No anger. No resentments. Just peace, calm and acceptance.

“Yet we know she suffers much.  Because her brain no longer controls her body, her muscles often go into uncontrollable spasms, which are painful like cramps. These take place several times a day. The spasms are so violent that they have deformed her body.  Her neck is now tilted to one side, her spine is curved, her arms and legs are bent, her hands are closed into fists, fingers deformed.”

***

His wife’s condition brought out the best in Wawel — his devotion, his kindness, his perseverance, his unlimited capacity to love. But for Wawel, he was the one indebted to Mila, not the other way around.

“In her ready acceptance, Mila has taught me to accept our situation as well.  I am married to Mila.  Mila is brain injured and paralyzed.  And I lovingly accept this situation as mine, as ours, as Mila has lovingly accepted hers.

“Mila has taught me to readily accept the challenges that come my way in my various responsibilities as an entrepreneur and small business owner, as parent to our daughter Therese, as husband and provider, as son and sibling to my extended family and as friend and responsible citizen to my community. Seeing Mila accept her situation inspires me to accept whatever I face in life with as much cheerfulness, hope and trust.”

Wawel went ahead of Mila in heaven. I believe, that after having cared and loved her for so long, he wanted to precede her in heaven so all she had to do beyond heaven’s gate was to fly into his arms.

Wawel Mercado died suddenly and quietly a year and a month ago. I am certain he was waiting for Mila when she tiptoed, perhaps pirouetted, through heaven’s door last week.

***

And now, the Mercados’ only child Therese, 16, is an orphan. Her paternal aunt An Mercado Alcantara says Therese is coping well. My heart goes out to her. And yet I think — here is a young lady who is probably more prepared for Life 101 than anyone her age.

Wawel, the proud father that he was, shared with me an essay entitled My Story. My Mom., which Therese wrote on Jan. 16, 2011 after she was interviewed for a docu-drama to be aired on television about their family (Wawel said the show’s producers got in touch with them after reading about their inspiring story in my column).

“Growing up as a little girl I always thought that nothing was wrong with my family. You know, nothing strange? Everything felt normal to me. But to others, my family is not what they call ‘normal’.”

Therese, then 14, said she was not ashamed of her mother. â€œNot at all,” she stressed.

“Sometimes I would get really shy when people from school would see her. I was afraid of being judged and treated as a loser. But now, I know better. I know that people should accept me for who I am. And my mom is part of who I am. So they should all accept that,” she wrote.

In her essay, Therese admitted that, “For the longest time, every time I spoke about my mom I would end up crying. Or I would not speak of her condition at all. I wouldn’t cry because I was upset, I would tear up only because I felt my dad’s pain and sometimes my wish of having her normal.” 

Therese said that when she was asked during the TV interview if she ever wanted a “normal mom,” she was honest. She said yes.

“But I also said that it would be hard for me to imagine. Without my mom’s condition I would not have such respect and sympathy for people with disabilities. And I wouldn’t be able to easily understand others’ feelings despite their physical appearances… And I most honestly say, that now I try to not judge people for what they look like and what they do. I try to understand and respect them for who they are.”

According to Therese, the most difficult question posed during the TV interview was, “What if sometime soon your mom passes away? Would you be ready?”

“Surprisingly, I am ready. 50/50. Not entirely ready,” she wrote. “But ready for her to move to another life. When that day comes, I would be upset but it would also be a big relief that she is no longer in pain. No longer stuck in a frozen body where all she can simply do is listen. I love my mom…

“Although I never got to completely know my mom. I can definitely say that I am a lot like her in many ways. That’s what my dad and a lot of people who knew her well say. And somehow, I can feel it. I can feel a mutual bond between us mother and daughter. It’s like a language only both of us can speak but we don’t use words. I can easily tell that she can feel my pain when I’m sad. She can feel my joy when I’m happy…”

Therese concluded her essay with gratitude.

“Without my mom’s condition. I would not have such great understanding about others. I would not be as strong as who I am. And I would not be so hopeful and brave. I don’t think that my mom’s condition is a curse or malas, I think of it as a blessing in disguise. Without her condition, I would not be as gentle, caring, and understanding towards others. And I would not be who I am today. I would simply not be Mary Therese MILAGROS Ann Mercado.”

(You may e-mail me at joanneraeramirez@yahoo.com.)