I read this before the Brotherhood of Christian Businessmen and Professionals (BCBP) here in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental. Please excuse some phrases written in Cebuano. I have a condition known as Polycystic Ovaries Syndrome or PCOS. I have an infertility problem. In other words, I cannot have babies as easily as most women do. However, women like me are not entirely hopeless. With the aid of modern science, we can still conceive. I have been blessed by God. After an intensive fertility treatment, I had one successful pregnancy. My daughter Abby was born in the year 2000. As years went by, the desire for another child grew ever stronger in the hearts of my husband and myself. Our Abby kept telling us that she wanted to become an Ate already. So last December 2005 and January 2006, I went through two rounds of fertility treatments. I even had artificial insemination. But they all failed. I did not become pregnant. The treatments very expensive, my brothers and sisters. It drained our limited financial resources extensively. But the financial strain was NOTHING compared to the emotional and spiritual struggle my husband and I had to go through. Time and again, we had to go through the cycle of prayerful HOPING, anxious WAITING, and finally, crushing DISSAPPOINTMENT upon our discovery that I had not conceived. But lo and behold, on April 26, 2006, I discovered that I was 5 to 6 weeks pregnant! Can you imagine the JOY that we felt? It was a miracle from God. I had a SPONTANEOUS PREGNANCY!!! I got pregnant without medical intervention. What’s more, it was to have been our CHRISTMAS BABY. Our baby was supposed to have been born on December 24. But exactly one week after that, I had spotting. Tiny drops of blood started coming out from me. I went on complete bedrest. Do you have any idea what complete bedrest requires? You stay lying in bed 24 hours a day, eating there, never bathing, limiting water intake so you wont have to get up to go to the comfort room frequently. In addition to that, I propped up my hips with pillows. It was almost like being upside down, with my hips raised higher than my head. It was torture to my back. It was not easy. But I was ready and willing to do all that, to bear the pain and discomfort, for the sake of my baby. At first, I prayed to "God, please, don’t let my baby die. Mama Mary, please intercede for me". But as days went on and I continued spotting, my prayers changed. At first, I was afraid to tell God, but I finally got the courage and I spoke to Him, "God, I will take my baby in any form You will give her to me. Maski deformed, disabled, abnormal, retarded, mongoloid, maski unsa Lord, dawaton nako, just please, spare my baby’s life. Let my little one live". But on Monday, May 8, I started bleeding. At that point, I said to the Lord, “God, I submit to Your will”. Imohang pagbuot ang matuman. Dawaton nako. In the morning of May 9, my little one died. My baby came out from my womb. My husband was not with me. He is an OFW. I was all alone. I had nobody to comfort me at that time. No one else in my household knew. But I tried to be brave. I tenderly picked up my dead baby and placed her in a plastic cup. I planned to take her to the Silliman Medical Center for biopsy as advised by my doctors. I learned I was pregnant on April 26. I had my miscarriage on May 9. How many days were that? Until now, I have not determined that yet. But it does not really matter. Because during that very short time, the baby inside my womb was as real to me as my 6-year old daughter, Abby. Had she been born a girl, I would have called her Maria, in honor of our Holy Mother. Her nickname would have been MAIA. She would have been my little bird. But she never got her chance to fly. Her wings were broken too soon. I went to the (Silliman University) medical center that same morning with my little Maia for a biopsy. I handed the little cup to a medical technician, who said he would put formalin into it. I said to him, THANK YOU. Then, he handed the cup to another person, and in front of me, jokingly told him, “O, ihi-i ni”. (Here, you urinate in this.") I was crushed. I was devastated. I was in pain and he trampled over my grief with his carefree callousness and unthinking disregard for my feelings. Mora ko ug samad nga gadugo. Ginudnuran ko niya ug asin. Gibu-buan ug asido. For every pain that we much bear, For every burden, every care, There’s a reason. For every grief, that bows the head, For every tear drop that is shed, There’s a reason. For every hurt, for every plight, For every lonely, pain-wracked night There’s a reason. But if we trust God as we should, It will all come out to our good. I believe in that with all my heart. I cannot believe and I refuse to believe that God would give a life and take it back for no reason at all. Unsa? Gibinu-angan ra ko sa Ginoo? No. He never does that to anyone. There is a reason, and a purpose and a meaning behind our tragedy and our loss. And that is why I am here now to tell you about my advocacy. I have issued a challenge to the leadership of Silliman University Medical Center, to acknowledge, even only among themselves, that a problem exists among their employees. Their employees need to be reminded that the patients and their companions who come to them are HUMAN BEINGS. We are not simply “cases” for them to attend to. We have feelings too. When we come to the hospitals, it is because we NEED to be there. We are troubled, anxious, scared, in pain. We have money troubles too. Hospitalization, doctors and medicine = LOTS OF MONEY. And that’s something that not too many of us have in abundance. There is obviously a problem, AS ILLUSTRATED BY MY ONE PAINFUL ENCOUNTER WITH ONE HOSPITAL STAFF. But this was not an isolated case. The hospital management and the Board of Trustees NEED TO ADDRESS THIS PROBLEM. I am certain that most, if not, all of you, can relate to my experience, having encountered, in one form or another, rude, discourteous, and inappropriate conduct on the part of the employees, not only of Silliman Medical Center, but other medical institutions as well. That is why I am committed into turning my grief into an ADVOCACY that will push for change, at least, with SILLIMAN MEDICAL CENTER, for starters. I am URGING the BOARD OF TRUSTEES to publicly commit that they will implement an intensive and sustained VALUES FORMATION PROGRAM in response to my experience which I refuse to categorize and set aside as ISOLATED. I am basically challenging them to TEACH THEIR EMPLOYEES BASIC GOOD MANNERS AND APPROPRIATE REGARD FOR THE FEELINGS OF THE PEOPLE WHO COME TO THEM FOR HELP. Is that too much to ask for? After all, I asked nothing for myself. Please take my WORD. I AM NOT INTO THIS FOR ANY MONEY. This is my advocacy. FOR THE GOOD OF EVERYONE, INCLUDING THE INSTITUTION ITSELF. My brothers and sisters, if you believe that my ADVOCACY IS VALID AND JUST, please help me. I ask for nothing except your MORAL SUPPORT. If you can, please pick up your phone and call the Administrator or any of the members of the Board of Trustees who may be a relative or personal friend. Please text them. Please write to them. PLEASE HELP ME SO THAT THE PAIN THAT I WENT THOUGH WILL NOT HAPPEN TO ANYBODY, EVER AGAIN. Please help me. After all, I have nothing to gain personally. I only want to find the meaning and the purpose behind my pain now, behind my tears. I just want to understand. And when I find that purpose, I know, I will have peace of mind and peace in my HEART. AS A MOTHER, I WILL FIND MY CLOSURE OVER THE LOSS OF MY MUCH-LOVED BABY. Please help me. Thank you so much for listening. May God bless us all.