The culprit of my diabetes is Papa. Okay, okay, my eating habits and my lifestyle might have affected as well, but I could easily blame it to his genes.
I knew he was glad when he found out that I was pregnant. I knew he was concerned when he found found that I have diabetes as well. But when I told him of the bleeding on the ultrasound, there was a different tone in his voice, deeper than worry, more of fear. Even if he never pressured us into having a baby, I knew he wanted an "apo". Thus, the fear that I sensed in him is for baby.
He volunteered to accompany me at home during the doctor-prescribed-bedrest. Can we say "no" to that? I needed someone to wake up in the morning to go to the market, cook lunch for me, cook dinner for us, to go up and down the stairs to bring me anything I needed. That, he did. And more. For the three weeks. This is the longest time I've spent with him ever since I left our house in Marikina. And believe me, the times in Marikina before were the exact opposite of the time we spent during the last three weeks.
Baby and I are both very lucky. We were both pampered and babied. Papa took very good care of us.
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