Three Miracles

PEPS DE LEON

In December 1986, my wife Flor and I had been married for almost ten years, yet we remained childless. A day or two before Christmas that year, Flor was invited to a festivity at an orphanage. Perhaps something about that visit stirred her heart, because shortly after, she quietly but firmly said, “Let’s adopt a baby.”

I had been waiting to hear those words for almost two years.

We returned to the orphanage shortly after New Year’s Day. About two weeks later, while we were having dinner, Flor received a phone call from the orphanage.

They had a baby for us.

Flor could not stop crying—tears of overwhelming joy and gratitude.

On the third week of January 1987, we brought home a three-month-old baby boy—a precious gift from above, arriving just in time for our tenth wedding anniversary and Flor’s 34th birthday. Our parents were waiting in our living room to welcome their new grandson. At that moment, we felt it deeply: we were no longer just a couple. We were now a family.

Before we knew it, Carlo was growing up so fast. When he turned five, Flor and I felt that our family was not yet complete—we longed for a baby girl. Once again, we turned to the same orphanage and were soon blessed with a one-month-old baby girl.

We now had a pair—a boy and a girl. It felt nothing short of remarkable.

Our parents, relatives, and close friends warmly welcomed our daughter, Gianina. Carlo was delighted to become a kuya, a big brother. Over the years, Carlo grew up looking very much like me—chinky eyes and fair complexion. I enjoy sports like tennis and bowling, and it amused us to see how naturally these interests surfaced in him. At four, he could already dribble a regulation-sized basketball, and by five, he had taken up soccer. He also began playing the piano at four, and we were immensely proud watching him perform two pieces at his first recital.

Gianina, meanwhile, took after Flor. Her big, bright eyes are her most striking feature. A nun at her school once remarked that her eyes reflected intelligence and leadership—a comment we truly believe, as she consistently excelled academically and even earned a gold medal as her class representative in a science contest. Like her kuya, she loves the piano and has a gift for drawing. In fact, she won first place in two categories in an art competition sponsored by our barangay. Her winning sketches were featured in a souvenir calendar published in 1998. She also shares her mother’s love for cooking and baking.

While their interests differ, what matters most to us is that they use and nurture the talents God has given them. We feel grateful when friends and relatives praise them—whether for piano recitals, sports victories, artistic achievements, or academic honors. I often find myself smiling and saying, “Anak ko yata ’yan. Mana sa amin.”
(That’s my child—he or she takes after us.)

Like all children, they have their shortcomings. But they are obedient, respectful, and attentive to our guidance. Above all, they have grown to be loving and God-fearing.

In late 1995, together with our prayer group, Flor and I began praying for another child. That December, during our usual Christmas visit to the orphanage, Carlo and Gianina played joyfully with the babies in the nursery. Gianina, only four at the time, even asked the nun to show her the crib she once slept in. Both children were excited by the idea of welcoming another baby into our family and asked if we could bring one home.

I hesitated. Flor and I were turning 44—we were no longer young. By the time another child reached adolescence, we might already look like grandparents. We also worried about whether we could still afford a good education for another child.

Yet deep in her heart, Flor was quietly praying for a biological child. She longed to experience pregnancy and childbirth. This desire did not lessen her love for Carlo and Gianina—children who did not grow in her womb but surely grew in her heart. Still, she hoped that a third child would make our family feel complete.

We celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary in January 1996. Two months later, in March, Flor’s obstetrician announced—with joyful disbelief—that Flor was pregnant. At 44!

Neither of us had undergone fertility treatment. In fact, our doctor had once said there was “nothing wrong,” yet conception had always eluded us. Having experienced a false alarm two years earlier, we asked for a second test.

It was positive.

Hearing the baby’s heartbeat during the ultrasound felt like listening to music from heaven. We thanked the Lord for His boundless generosity. Family and friends rejoiced with us, and Carlo and Gianina were thrilled at the thought of a new sibling. They showed no jealousy—only care and attentiveness toward their mother.

We kept the baby’s gender a secret until the joyful morning of October 18, 1996, at UST Hospital. Before my very eyes, Flor delivered a healthy baby boy by caesarean section. My mother, waiting outside the delivery room, jumped with joy when the doctor placed a grandson in her arms.

A miracle—truly a wondrous blessing. We named him “Thirdie,” a nickname chosen by Kuya Carlo to mark his place in the family.

Some friends worried that our adopted children might feel threatened by the arrival of a biological child. But they were mistaken. Carlo and Gianina were secure in our love. They helped prepare bottles, clothes, and attended lovingly to their baby brother’s needs. Their affection erased any lingering fear that they might feel displaced or unloved.

Our family has been featured on several television programs, and this visibility, I believe, helped the children embrace their story with confidence. They speak openly about being adopted and yet proudly say, truthfully, that they are our children. The word “adopted” has never diminished their sense of belonging.

Though “ampon” has sadly taken on a negative connotation, I see it as a beautiful Filipino word rooted in Scripture. Adoption is, after all, a sacred way of forming a family. Scripture tells us that while Jesus was born of Mary, He was legally descended from the House of David through Joseph—who accepted Him as his own. In this way, Joseph became Jesus’ adoptive father, and together with Mary formed the Holy Family.

Today, we are an ordinary family, allowing each child to grow into his or her own person. Carlo, now in his early teens, is learning independence. Gianina loves reading, sketching, and listening to Britney Spears. Thirdie, now in nursery school, loves dancing to Mambo No. 5 and idolizes his kuya.

By God’s grace, we can truly say that the love we give each of our children is equal, deep, and enduring—and will remain so through the years.