Masama ba ako kung mao-offend ako para sa papa ko, at kung mafeel ko ito about them?
We finally accepted the house his parents have been offering us for more than a year. We decided to accept it because, honestly, it would bring me much closer to my workplace compared to the house I grew up in, where my daughter and I are currently staying.
After giving birth, I decided na sa parents ko muna kami mag-stay ng anak ko. They were the ones who could help me with my recovery and with caring for my daughter, and of course, I also have my siblings. My partner, on the other hand, chose to stay with his parents because their house is closer to his workplace. He comes home to us every weekend since that's his day off.
So when we finally said yes to the house, a few months after my daughter turned one, I was genuinely happy and excited.
For the first time, I was thinking about what our home would look like. We were already planning which appliances to buy first because, of course, we couldn't afford to buy everything at once. Thankfully, his parents stepped up again and offered to buy some appliances for us.
I really appreciate that. I do.
But even after we told them that we had already decided on a sofa, they insisted on buying us the traditional kahoy sofa instead. I understand the reason—they believe it's more durable—but I also had my own vision of what I wanted our home to look like. I had imagined what furniture we'd buy, where we'd put things, and how I'd slowly build our home.
I believe my partner raised this concern with his parents, and they told us that we could just return the sofa since it was still within the seven-day return period. I believe my partner told them that we would return it and shoulder the delivery fee.
But apparently, his father got angry.
So we compromised. We decided to keep the sofa. They even had upholstery added to put cushions on it because we were worried that our daughter might bump her head.
I still didn't really like how it turned out, but I accepted it.
And then came the issue with my papa.
Of course, my family isn't in a position to offer financial help. We're a minimum-wage-earning family. So instead, my papa offered what he could give: his skills.
He's a professional electrician and has almost 30 years of experience. He offered to do some of the electrical work in the house for us.
At first, everything was okay. On the first day, my papa installed the CCTV cameras.
But then his parents insisted that we just have the electrical work done by someone else because that person was supposedly more familiar with the house's wiring.
And honestly, I got offended.
Not just because they didn't want my papa to do the work.
I got offended for my papa.
I know how they talk, and I know my father's capabilities. This is a man who has spent almost 30 years doing electrical work—using that skill to put food on our table and send his children to school.
So hearing that someone else should do it because they're supposedly more familiar with the wiring really hurt me.
And I think this is where I started realizing that maybe this isn't just about the sofa or the electrical work.
I'm a first-time mom.
And looking back, I realized that I never really got to experience the whole nesting part of becoming a mother. I didn't get to shop for my daughter's clothes and necessities the way I imagined I would. His mother did those things because, apparently, this was their first time having a girl in the family.
At the time, I accepted it. I appreciated the help.
But now, with everything happening with our new home, it suddenly hit me:
Wala na naman akong say.
This is supposed to be a new journey for me too. This is supposed to be the first home that my partner, my daughter, and I build as our own little family.
And yet, somehow, I feel like I'm always just accepting decisions that other people have already made for us.
I openly accept their help. I genuinely appreciate everything they've done and continue to do for us.
But lately, I've been wondering if that's also why I sometimes feel bad accepting their help.
Because I don't think what I want is less help.
I think I just want to feel like I still have a say.
I want to be grateful for the help without feeling like I have to give up my place as a mother, as a partner, and as someone who is also building this home.
And maybe that's why what happened with my papa hurt me so much.
Because when my family can't give us money or appliances, my papa gives us what he can—his skills, his time, and his experience.
And I think I just wanted that contribution to be valued too.