Long before I was born, My mother, Perla Cristobal, was initially married to her first husband, with whom she shared a lively household of five young sons - the Dalupang family. During those early years, an extraordinary and deeply unsettling experience visited my mother. She clearly recounted that Almighty revealed to her in a vision the face of a man who would eventually become her second spouse. Troubled and confused by this spiritual manifestation, she questioned it heavily in her private prayers, asking why she was being shown the face of another partner while her current husband was still very much alive and providing for their family.
Not long after that initial revelation, another profound and haunting vision followed. This time, it was a prophetic dream depicting the sudden and tragic passing of her first husband, drawing his very last breaths right in the comfort of her arms. To her absolute sorrow, the premonition materialized with terrifying accuracy. Her first husband fell gravely ill shortly after, and he passed away in the exact manner she had foreseen. At the time of his heartbreaking departure, this youngest child was an infant of a mere nine months old. Left to navigate the sudden, heavy emptiness of widowhood with five young boys to feed, my mother relied entirely on her unshakable faith. She was completely unaware that the next monumental chapter of her life had already been quietly set in motion just across the street.
My mother place is in Dalupang street while my father is in Cortes street. My father, Rogelio Vallejo, was a quiet, introverted, and incredibly hard working bachelor who lived just across the street. He earned his modest living working skillfully as a carpenter, known by everyone for his honest hand and reliability. On the other side of the fence, my mother deeply devoted to her Catholic faith, was a familiar face in the neighborhood due to her active participation in community prayer circles and she is know for her special native cakes she sell in streets and houses. Whenever a family in the city requested novenas, rosaries, or traditional prayers for their deceased loved ones, my grand mother would routinely call upon my mother to lead the spiritual gatherings.
It was through these shared somber moments of communal grief and neighborhood prayer that the universe began to bridge their separate paths. One warm afternoon, following a prayer session, my grandmother playfully hinted at a match, asking my mother, "when she would finally get to see grandchildren from her brother Rogelio?" My mother, laughing it off as a harmless joke, gently replied that "they should simply wait for the specific woman destined for him by God." Later that same evening, as they walked home past my father's workshop, my grandmother asked her directly, "Perla why don't you like your kuya Rogelio?" My mother smiled warmly but dismissively answered, "If he truly likes me, that is very kind of him, but I am a woman with many children to raise, and he is a respectable bachelor. I find it hard to believe he would ever choose someone with a heavy responsibility like me." At that time, my father was 37 years old, and my mother was 31. The ultimate turning point arrived unexpectedly on a quiet, crisp evening. After attending an intenth prayer meeting where they carried a sacred image of the Santo Niño through the streets, a fellow devotee surged her to open her heart to companionship once more, emphasizing that she desperately needed a partner to protect and raise her five growing sons. My mother resolutely declined, stubborn in her belief that she was strong enough to sustain her family entirely on her own. Yet that night, as she drifted into a deep sleep, she was visited by a vivid and heavy dream of her late husband.
In the dream, his spirit surged forward and urged her with absolute urgency to marry Rogelio, delivering a chilling warning that he would take her with him to the afterlife if she refused to move forward. Struggling to breathe under the immense spiritual weight of the vision she finally relented in her sleep, gasping out loud, "Yes, Yes, I will marry him! Just leave now, I cannot breathe!" Upon her sudden awakening, the heavy presence in the room lifted instantly, and her late husband never appeared in her dreams again. Following that undeniable divine sign, a natural courtship began to form through practical necessity. Whenever parts of the old, weathered house needed structural repair, my mother would call upon my father. Through these simple, everyday acts of service and quiet conversations over coffee, a profound and genuine bond blossomed between them.
Against all conventional societal expectations of the time, my father embraced her and her five sons with open arms and unconditional love. God generously blessed their new union with five more children. three daughters and two sons under the - Vallejo name, bringing the grand total to ten siblings. I am the absolute youngest of those ten children, born out of what my family considers a medical miracle. My mother was already 42 years old and believed she had fully undergone menopause when she unexpectedly became pregnant with me. My father passed away at the age of 55. To this very day despite of her age 66, she remains an incredibly industrious woman, waking up dawn to cook traditional native cakes and sell this traditional native delicacies like her special Bibingka, Sapin-sapin, Palitao and many more through out the bustling streets of Cauayan city Isabela.
Growing up in a massive household, my life was heavily shaped by early economic hardships that began to crystallize in my memory around the tender age of six. I spent my early childhood studying in the quiet barrio of Mangandinggay from kindergarten to first grade. I was a remarkably diligent and competitive student, consistently climbing to the top of my class to earn academic honors, medals, and pride for my parents. However, our family dynamics shifted dramatically when my father’s health began to rapidly fail due to severe, chronic hypertension.
Because our rural barrio sat dangerously far away from the nearest medical facility, we made the difficult decision to relocate closer to the urban center of town, forcing me to transfer to Cauayan North Central School Cauayan City Isabela for my second up to fourth-grade years. By the time I reached the fourth grade, my father underlying medical condition grew critical. One painful day, he ultimately passed away. Witnessing his agonizing final moments right beside his hospital bed is an emotional ache that remains terrifyingly vivid in my mind to this very day. In his final, fragile breaths, he looked at us and left us with a solemn, non-negotiable command. "Study hard, no matter how difficult life gets, and make absolutely sure you finish your study!". Through entirely heartbroken and disoriented by the loss of our patriarch, we pressed forward as a family, holding tightly onto the comforting belief that God has a reason why that happened.
Following his tragic passing, my supportive aunt and uncle generously took me, under bringing me to the cold highlands of Baguio City , where I completed my Elementary education from grade four to six and graduated there. Seeking the familiar comfort of my immediate family, I eventually returned to Cauayan for my seventh-grade year at Isabela Colleges (I.C.). The after I finish my study in Grade 7, I decided to finish my study again in Baguio Grade 8, and then I finish my study there. The subsequent years of my High School journey became a complex test of resilience and academic transition. When I reached Grade 9, I enrolled and studied at Cabatuan National High school extension in Cauayan City Isabela. Unfortunately, due to overwhelming personal and financial struggles that heavily disrupted my focus during that specific period, I was unable to finish that school year.
It felt like a significant setback at the time, forcing me to stop and repeat the entire year level. After adjusting to this roadblock, I transferred schools to Alicia, where I repeated 9th grade and successfully completed Grade 9 through Grade 12. Throughout those challenging High School years, my supportive elder brother stepped up as a reliable father figure, and his wife. They diligently provided my daily school allowance and more importantly, taught me the crucial value of financial independence. To assist him and lessen his financial burden, he taught me to make and sell homemade Graham balls at school. I spent my recess periods marketing my product to earn extra money. Even with heavy tray of snacks in my hands and the occasional embarrassment of being a student vendor among my peers. I never allowed my academic grades to slip.
When the unprecedented COVID-19 pandemic struck the country, I found myself back in Cauayan for what should have been my final year of 12th grade.The massive systemic disruptions caused severe delays in submitting my academic modules and required papers, ultimately forcing me to face the devastating reality of repeating the twelfth grade for a second time in my life. Refusing to let discouragement, I enrolled at the Cauayan City Stand-Alone Senior High school (CCASH). I intentionally chose the Accountancy, Business, and Management (ABM) strand to enter the competitive world of entrepreneurship. By absolute grace of God and sleepless nights of studying, I graduated with Honors. College I successfully applied to the prestigious University in Cauayan, Isabela State University Cauayan City Isabela (ISU). My first option is my course strand in Grade 12 but was unfortunately if the slots has been full.
My second option is IT course that's why I choose to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Information Technology, specializing specifically in Web and Mobile Application Development (BSIT-WMAD). My Entrepreneurial vision was clear: I wanted to gain the advanced technical expertise required to build my very own digital applications and professional websites, which I could seamlessly utilize to expand and grow my home-based printing shop and digital services business. Despite a dangerously late application that I nearly missed the online registration is completely closed, the university door opened door for me through manual considerations and professors. I am very thankful for the staff that help me to register successful and passed me in the interview.Fulfilling a multi-generational legacy of pure perseverance.
I am grateful to Isabela State University, to all my professors for this life-changing opportunity.My freshman year started smoothly, but during the high-stakes second semester, my life threw a massive, unexpected curveball when I discovered I was pregnant. The whispers, harsh judgments, and disappointed stares from the conservative community around me were incredibly loud and emotionally heavy. People doubted my capacity to finish, but I chose to bury the toxic noise beneath the sacred memory of my deceased father's final words. He wanted me to graduate, and I was fiercely determined to honor that promise. Balancing the intense physical demands of an evolving pregnancy with the rigorous, logic-heavy demands of IT coding coursework, I completed the semester with zero failing grades. Deeply grateful to God and the empathetic professors who offered understanding, extensions and grace.
I intentionally took a necessary one-year leave of absence to safely deliver and physically care for my beautiful child, who will be turning two years old this coming August 12. Returning to the university campus as a determined Second Year student, I stepped back into academic hallways not just as an ambitious student chasing a degree, but as a resilient, unbreakable mother fighting for her child's future. Today at 24 years old, I carefully balance my heavy academic responsibilities while handle-ly managing a home-based printing business and actively selling snacks and drinks on campus to fund my daily school allowance. Every complex line of code I write in my IT classes is a calculated step closer to fulfilling a multi-generational legacy of pure perseverance. I am grateful to Isabela State University, to all my professors for this life-changing opportunity.
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