In a quiet riverside village, people still often talk about Aling Cuca—an elderly woman well over seventy years old, her back bent, her hair white with age, yet her heart as strong as the soil she once farmed.
All her life, her only companions were the fields and the children she raised on her own. Her husband, Mang Turo, died early from lung disease, leaving her to shoulder the roles of both father and mother in a single body.
Aling Cuca was known as hardworking and strong despite her age. She rarely fell ill. Every morning, she woke early to light the stove, boil tea, and cut a few vegetable leaves from the yard. Her children and grandchildren repeatedly told her to rest, but she would always smile and say:
“When I have nothing to do, I miss your father even more… it’s better to be tired than to be lonely.”
But in recent years, something strange began to happen: Aling Cuca’s belly kept growing bigger and bigger, like that of a pregnant woman. At first, she thought it was just bloating or a normal part of aging. But as the months passed, she gradually felt pain and heaviness. Sometimes she would sink down onto the floor, drenched in sweat and barely able to breathe.
Gossip spread throughout the village. Some said it was “shameful,” others mocked her, and some suspected something supernatural. Whenever she went to the market, she could hear whispers and feel sharp, judging eyes behind her back.
Even her children eventually grew restless.
One day, her second daughter said:
“Mother, please get checked. We can’t take what people are saying anymore. It’s embarrassing.”
One cold morning, while sweeping the yard, Aling Cuca suddenly cried out in pain and collapsed to her knees, clutching her stomach. Her children panicked and rushed her to the town hospital.
In the cold examination room, the hum of the ultrasound machine filled the air. The young doctor frowned at the monitor before turning to them and speaking softly:
“There’s something unusual inside Mother’s abdomen. It looks like a baby… but it’s been there a very long time—it has turned to stone.”
The entire room fell silent. No one could speak.
The eldest child trembled as he asked:
“W-what do you mean, Doctor?”
“It is a fetus that has undergone calcification—a stone baby. Judging by its size, it has been there for more than forty years.”
Everyone stood frozen.
Tears fell uncontrollably.
Aling Cuca closed her eyes as memories of the past rushed back. When she was in her thirties, after giving birth several times, she became pregnant again. But that pregnancy was strange—she never felt the baby move. One day, she doubled over in pain, and afterward, all the symptoms disappeared. She thought she had miscarried. They had no money then, so she never went to see a doctor.
Her husband was ill, her children were hungry, so she chose silence and carried on with life. She never knew that the small life had remained inside her, fixed in place for forty years—until it eventually turned to stone.
“My child… forgive your mother…”
she whispered through tears, clutching the blanket tightly.
Her children sobbed as they embraced her, finally realizing how heavy a burden their mother had carried for so many years—a secret she bore alone, unknown to anyone.
Surgery was performed. When the object was removed from Aling Cuca’s body, everyone was stunned.
Small. Hard. Yet its shape was still clear—like a child turned to stone.
They prayed in silence. They placed it in a small wooden coffin, lit incense, and treated it as a final farewell to a soul forgotten by time.
When Aling Cuca returned home from the hospital, the news spread throughout the village.
There was no more mockery—
only pity and respect.
Many people came to visit. They said nothing, simply sitting quietly beside her, holding her hand.
At dusk, Aling Cuca sat on the balcony, gently stroking the small wooden box resting on her lap. She gazed at the distant fields—the land she had worked and struggled for all her life.
Her children sat around her in silence, watching her.
In the golden light of the setting sun, she smiled toward the sky as tears slowly rolled down her wrinkled cheeks.
“My child… you are finally free from your mother’s womb.”
And in that moment, everyone understood—Aling Cuca’s entire life was not just a story of sacrifice, but a sacred duty of motherhood, even when the price was forty years of silence and pain.