My yaya is pregnant. When I say that today, I say it with a feeling of acceptance at the inevitable fact that she is leaving me before the new year. But the day I first heard the news, it was a different story.
My yaya is a big girl. She has always been rather on the heavy side, even when she first came to us from Bacolod 12 years ago. She had first been the yaya of my then 3 year old brother. After a few years, she left us to get married and start a family. A husband and two kids later, we were still in touch. I was ecstatic when she volunteered to come back and be Vito’s yaya two years ago. I had gone through a string of 3 horrible yayas in the first 6 months of Vito’s life. That, coupled with my post partum blues and stressful work life had me at the brink of madness. You could imagine my relief when she finally arrived. At last, my prayer for a nurturing, competent and trustworthy care giver for Vito had been answered.
Three weeks ago I noticed. Yaya was looking plumper than usual. Her uniform seemed to be getting tighter around the waist where her belly sat, round and full. She didn’t seem like quite her normal self. I had my suspicions, but was too scared to even entertain the thought. But I just had to ask the dreaded question. “Yaya parang lumalaki ka. Buntis ka ba?” “Parang ganon nga mam.” O.M.G. This couldn’t be really happening to me. I gave yaya my last pregnancy test. It was positive.
I saw a flash of images in my head—Blair, upset with Dorota, having a fit after finding out that her girl Friday was pregnant. I felt dizzy. This could not be. But it was.
So now you know why I need a new yaya and my time is running out...
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