Since 1907, when the modern celebration of Mother’s Day began in the United States, most of the world has celebrated this day for mothers annually. In the Philippines, following the example of the United States, our Mother’s Day celebration falls every second Sunday of May, though other countries have their own dates and histories of celebrating the occasion. We first began to celebrate Mother’s Day in 1921, when Ilokana women’s groups petitioned the government to legislate the celebration. According to a 1922 government report: “A group of clubs in one of the provinces made a petition, endorsed by the Federation, requesting the Governor-General to set aside a day to be known as Mother's Day in the Philippines. This petition was favorably acted upon, and the Governor-General has proclaimed the first Monday of December of every year as Mother's Day in the Philippines.”
When I think of Mother’s Day, I often think back to the women in my family tree. After more than 25 years of tracing my family tree, I have started to see some interesting information when analyzing details in records. My great-grandfather’s mother, for instance, Severina Ceballos, was married in March of 1881. When I was comparing dates later, I realized my great-grandfather was born in May of 1881, just two months after his parent’s wedding. The math tells us that Severina was seven months pregnant upon her marriage and while this was certainly not unheard of at that time, I still imagine the whispers and judgment of the Spanish period “Maritesses” as my Lola Severina was probably hastily married in church. But she held her head high, gave birth to my great-grandfather and four more children, and raised them to be fine young men and women.
But there are also stories about mothers in our history that need further study. Take the mother of President Sergio Osmeña, for one. Juana Suico Osmeña’s story is unknown to many Filipinos, mainly because not many historians have written about her, but also because her only son never discussed much of his personal life. When she became mysteriously pregnant out of wedlock, it is said her mother feared a scandal because the father was not just an older man, but a married one. Family lore states that Juana’s mother tried to abort the child by slapping and punching Juana repeatedly, hoping that by doing so the shame --and the baby-- would disappear.
But Juana’s love for her child, and perhaps the child’s will to live, allowed the baby to survive and even to be born normally. Despite being the mother of one of the most powerful men in the country, Juana’s life went by silently after the birth of Sergio until her death in 1941. So, while her son became more popular, she was only able to celebrate her son’s successes in silence, never able to proudly tell everyone about her celebrated son. She was rarely if ever, mentioned in news articles concerning her son and the family. In the words of American historian Michael Cullinane: “Juana Osmeña was nearly invisible until her death, when – finally – the public acknowledged her and honored her as the mother of their hero.”
We are all products of our time. While the treatment of society of Juana Osmeña was extremely unfair, that was how things were then. Unfortunately, even after her own son became famous, politesse and comme il faut in Philippine society dictated that issues like illegitimate births and dalliances with married men, no matter how many years ago this happened, were not polite topics of conversation and should just be relegated to the shadows. And so, Juana Osmeña, too, was relegated to the shadows.
Mothers come in all types and forms, with some being able to celebrate their children’s successes and accomplishments and being able to bask in the glory of their offspring’s achievements. Unfortunately others, like Juana Osmeña, due to the times she lived in, were never allowed to revel in their children’s greatness.