02/06/2026
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ | MOTHER IS A NฬถOฬถUฬถNฬถ VERB
The hardest question I had to answer in college didnโt belong in the admission test โ not in the first quiz I failed, not in the classroom where we were asked why we chose our path, not even in the test paper I shaded a little too heavily because I wasnโt sure enough.
โExcuse me.โ The admission staff raised her hand just before I could push the exit door open. โYou missed a part,โ she said, pointing to an empty space on the paper.
So, I walked back toward her table and looked down. I was right. Because again, it was the question that did not even bear a question mark but a colon followed by a blank.
Motherโs Name:
It was the part I would always overlook as a child โ perhaps because the answer it begged for was someone I had to live without.
Every time someone would ask me who my mother was, I could never give the perfect answer.
โYour food looks yummy,โ one of my friends said as she drooled over my lunchbox. โYour momโs such a good cook!โ
Another classmate leaned closer then, โWhatโs her name?โ My lips lengthened yet remained pressed together.
Because would they believe it if I say it was all my father?
โSuch pretty braids, sweetheart,โ my preschool teacher said as she fixed the ribbon on my pigtails. โWho did your hair? Your sweet mommy?โ
And she would've understood it better, but I knew follow up questions would come.
โWow.โ My classmateโs jaw hung at the sight of three stars stamped on my paper. โYour mom mustโve been a really good teacher. You should introduce her to us sometime!โ
Their moms taught them, so I get the assumptions. But I had long accepted I was quite different. Because at my home, the mom was Ate (elder sister). At school, the mom was Maโam.
โWho is she again?โ
โYeah, you havenโt really talked about her.โ
It was complicated and a sore topic to me. I knew all they wanted was a name, but all I could think of when mother appeared in the sentence was the constellation of people who made sure Iโd never feel incomplete having no one to call one.
YES, I NEVER GOT TO CALL SOMEONE โMOMโ.
She โ the woman who bore me for nine months โ died on her birthing bed. The day I breathed my first was the day she took her last. For the longest time, it hurt knowing I only knew how to spell her name while remaining unfamiliar with the face I only got to see in still photographs. Sometimes, I would stand in front of those pictures and trace her smile with my fingertips.
โHow was she as a person, Dad?โ I asked him.
He stared at the picture, smiling softly. โKindโฆ Sheโs so much like you. You wouldโve bonded like peanut butter and jelly.โ
โI hope Iโm the jelly,โ I shrugged.
โPerfect! Sheโs really nuts sometimes,โ he chuckled โ crisp enough I thought I heard the longing in it.
I had many what ifs with her, many would haves that wouldn't see the light of the day. But despite her absence, I was born healthy, surrounded by the plans she made for me before she left โ a warm home, a comfortable life, safety nets carefully prepared ahead of time, and dreams she never got to witness herself but Iโd get to live.
And while she might no longer be here with me, I still carry her love everywhere I go. SO YES, I NEVER GOT TO CALL SOMEONE โMOMโ.
But I have someone I call โdadโโฆ
โBy the way, how did my girlโs day go?โ
Dad would always welcome me with a tight hug before I could even say I was home. He would wake up early every morning to cook pancakes that were sometimes burnt around the edges. He would braid my hair with flowers tucked between the strands and send me off to school with a loud โgood luckโ. He never missed a school program โ not a single PTA meeting. And more often than not, he would stand at every party with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, scaring boys away before they could even introduce themselves.
SO YES, I LOST THE ONE I COULD CALL โMOMโ.
But I have someone I call โateโโฆ
โThis oneโs wrong.โ
Ate would judge my assignments before my teachers could. โWhy?โ
โYou misarranged the steps in the formula. One wrong step, everythingโs wrong. You have to memorize it by heart.โ
She would correct my assignments and explain what made them incorrect. That or I would be one to get asked, โWhatโs wrong?โ
On good days, I would say, โNothingโ, and we would end up giggling together until midnight. On colder nights, I would just sob on her shoulder until it feels alright.
โIโm not gonna tell you itโs going to be okay, but Iโm gonna be here for my baby regardless. Okay?โ
SO YES, I DON'T HAVE SOMEONE TO CALL โMOMโ.
But I have someone I call โMaโamโโฆ
โYou still donโt understand?โ
I shook my head, a little embarrassed. And instead of leaving, she pulled a chair beside me. โWhich part, anak?โ
Maโam would make sure I was never left behind at class. Maโam would extend duty hours just to help me understand concepts that I couldnโt grasp. After dismissals, she would wait with me outside the campus gates until dad arrived. And somehow, she never failed to make me feel seen, not just as a student, but as a child someone she cared enough about.
SO YES, IT WAS ALWAYS DIFFICULT TO SAY WHOโS MY MOM.
The same way it was always difficult to pick just one name for what seemed a big title. Because I was someoneโs life, someoneโs little girl, someoneโs babyโฆ someoneโs anak โ I was loved by so many people in ways a mother would have.
And maybeโฆ the blank on the form could only hold one answer as science would suggest, but I would never forget how many people stood beside me to fill the blanks in my life โ how many hands held me steady just to make sure I would never feel empty.
โAre you okay?โ The admission staff looked at me, the pen frozen in my still hand.
I smiled, nodding promptly, then looked back at the blank space one last time before writing down.
For years, I thought not having someone to call โmomโ meant I grew up missing something. But I realized I never truly did.
Because mother was never confined to a single name on a form, nor was it a title reserved for only one person. Mother isnโt a noun, it is a verb โ the act of choosing.
Mothers are the people who stayed. The people who chose to nurture.
The people who chose to protect. The people who chose to love.
Motherhood was never just biology.
It was a calling that hearts chose to answer. A role they chose to commit to.
A space they chose to fill. A seat they chose to take. A choice โ A verb.
Written by Mae Kristine Sacdal
Illustration by Miekaela Kerstine Q. Cordero
