My dead baby was to be urinated upon ...

I have a condition known as Polycystic Ovaries Syndrome (PCOS). In other words, I have an infertility problem. I cannot become pregnant as easily as some other women do. But due to medical intervention, I had one successful pregnancy. I now have a 6-year old daughter.

In December of 2005 and January 2006, I went through another round of fertility treatment in the hope of having another child. This treatment was highly expensive. My husband and I spent hundreds of thousands of pesos in the pursuit of our desire for a baby sister or brother for our daughter. It drained our limited financial resources extensively. But the financial toll was nothing compared to the heavy toll on our emotions. Time and again, we had to go through the painful cycle of fervent hope, anxious anticipation, and crushing disappointment after all our efforts and sacrifices failed to produce a child.

Having ran out for funds for the treatment, my husband and I were resigned to the fact that another child was not part of God's plan for our family. But on April 26, I discovered that I was pregnant. Against all the odds and against all our expectations, I had a spontaneous pregnancy! What joy! Only people who are similarly situated can fully understand and empathize with me in the euphoric state I was in when I found out I was going to have another baby after all!

Then came my crushing blow when I miscarried and lost my baby in the morning of May 9, 2006. After that, all that I ever wanted to do was to find out what was wrong with the child that I carried. I wanted to know why I lost my little one.

Around eleven in the morning of May 9, I took my baby to the SILLIMAN UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER laboratory for biopsy. My little one was placed in a small plastic covered container. I handed it to the medical technician after he suggested that he would put formalin into it. As he left the reception area, he handed the cup over to the janitor and said to him “u, ihi-i ni” ("Here, you urinate on this."). I was aghast. I could hardly believe that somebody would treat my dead little one with such cruel mockery. I was outraged and infuriated over the insult hurled at my personal tragedy. I was completely crushed when an uncaring, callous, uncompassionate and cold member of the medical profession carelessly trampled over my grief and my loss.

My husband and I wanted that baby so much and losing our little one broke my heart. I am devastated and I am in great pain. My pain has now multiplied a hundred times after the treatment that my dead little one got. My poor baby. My little Christmas baby whom I believed was going to be God’s Christmas present to our family. It’s life has barely begun, and it hurt so much to see it’s life ended so soon. And to have my little one urinated upon, even in jest, magnified my pain.

How can people be so cold and uncaring? I am aware that for SOME people in the medical profession, the ideals have long vanished. It is just a job for them, a means to earn a living, and working in local hospitals is a mere stepping stone for juicier jobs abroad. Compassion has long vanished in their hearts. But is it too much to ask for a little respect for the sensibilities of the people who come to them for aid? If they cannot show genuine compassion, then the least that they should do is DISPLAY the APPEARANCE OF COMPASSION.

The ability to have a child is a gift and a privilege that has not been given to everyone. It is a gift from God and should be appreciated, treasured and be thankful for. Countless women like me are constantly tormented by our burning desire for children. Others who are more fortunate should be counting their blessings.

As my friend observed, MOST PEOPLE HAVE LOST THEIR AWE AND AMAZEMENT OVER GOD’S POWER TO GRANT THE MIRACLE OF LIFE. Maybe the death of my little one will be instrumental in bringing back that respect for God’s CREATION. And may it also be a reminder for people to respect THE CREATOR who is the giver of life.