On the same day 21 years ago, a woman would probably have been in the hospital, along with her husband, expecting to introduce a bundle of new life to the world in the form of a baby girl. Little did they know that the baby had intended to come out on the following day and that if she could choose, being a girl would be out of the question.
Kristine, Naisha, and Graciela might have been in the list of names the woman had, if she had listed anything at all in the course of nine months, for the human who’s about to add to the skyrocketing Philippine population. I want to think she had prepared more cool-sounding names than the aforementioned but only ended up with the, uh, least creative one because that’s what she could only muster to say in her has-just-given-birth state. I don’t want to know whether she had planned to give her that name from the very beginning, in that “Ooh, I’m pregnant, let’s call her Mary Grace!” kind of way, or what.
That would be unacceptable.
I’m thankful, though, that they had not done the most unacceptable thing, which is to deny her the life she’s supposed to have; not that I’m thinking they would, given all the chances in the world. Mary Grace, or MG, may not have turned out to be the daughter they’re expecting her to be, but I could tell them that she’s trying. For the past 21 years, she’s been trying.