The Day I Dared to Say “I Want to Live”
- Pauline Caunan-Limen
- 1 day ago
- 8 min read
This Women’s Month, we honor real courage—the kind you don’t always see onstage, but feel in the quiet moments of choosing to go on. Pauline Caunan-Limen, a Cloud Engineer from Information Services Group and 2025 Give A Light Winner, opens her heart and shares her courage of rebuilding her life and daring to reshape her idea of strength, womanhood, and work.
My journey here at Globe is a story of daring to be persistent; I first joined the family as a vendor employee for 8 years before I was officially absorbed as a regular employee, where I have now served for 4 years. This 12-year path from being an external partner to becoming a core member of the team is the foundation of my professional courage and my deep commitment to our "wonderful" culture.
But beyond my role and my years in Globe, I am also a woman and a mother whose story took a turn I never expected.
The day my world shifted
In May 2024, I was blessed with the news of my pregnancy. I carried my son for eight months, cherishing every movement, until an unexpected tragedy occurred. Due to a complication where the umbilical cord became coiled around his neck, I lost my son. The devastation was so profound it felt as though the heavens had dropped on me. I blamed myself for not being able to protect him and chose to spend my maternity leave in solitude, wanting to grieve privately without being a burden to anyone.
Those months felt like I was moving through a different universe—one where time was slower, heavier, and every day was a reminder of what I lost. I thought that was the hardest thing my heart could ever carry.
However, the trial did not end there. Just three months later, I was rushed to the Emergency Room with severe shortness of breath. I was diagnosed with Postpartum Cardiomyopathy with an initial ejection fraction of only 17%—a critically low level. This condition turned my life into a different kind of battle; my medications are incredibly expensive, and I struggle every month to balance the high costs of my treatment with my salary and bills.
My 2D Echo results and my x-ray, four months post partum. I found that my heart was enlarged.
But I am a fighter. After four months of treatment, my heart showed incredible resilience—my ejection fraction improved to 58%. While my heart is physically stronger, the journey continues as my medications remain the same, requiring a constant balance of faith, finances, and focus.
Losing my son and facing a life-threatening condition reshaped me completely. It changed the way I see my body, my heart—literally and figuratively—and what it means to be a mother, even to a child who isn’t physically here.
What courage looks like in my everyday life
Today, courage is the quiet decision to show up for a life that looks different than I imagined.
For me, it looks like:
The Bravery of Maintenance: The discipline of balancing my finances to cover expensive, life-saving medications while fulfilling my daily responsibilities. Hindi glamorous ang courage most days—it’s spreadsheets, budgets, and saying no to things I used to say yes to.
Listening to a "New" Heart: Learning to set boundaries and honoring my body’s limits without guilt—choosing to be gentle with myself as I heal. My body is not the same as before, and I’m learning to love it as it is now.
The Choice of Kindness: Choosing not to let my pain make me "hard." Leading with a smile and a kind heart is my most courageous daily act. Madaling maging bitter; mas mahirap piliin na maging mabait pa rin.
Trusting the Process: My heart’s improvement from 17% to 58% taught me that recovery is possible if you just keep going, one breath at a time.
Courage, for me, is no longer about grand gestures. It’s about waking up, taking my medicine, logging in to work, talking to my family, and letting light in, kahit konti-konti lang.
Courage to choosing life in the dark
Courage means moving forward even when your heart is heavy. In the middle of the darkness, I made a conscious decision: I wanted to live. I chose to live for my family. Part of that courage has been accepting that while I still carry the desire to be a mother, I recognize that it is not yet the time. Right now, my journey is about healing the woman I am today.
That decision—to live, to stay, to fight—didn’t happen in one dramatic moment. It happened in small choices: taking my medicine even when I felt tired of it, going to follow-up appointments, allowing myself to cry, and then wiping my tears and saying:
“Sige, laban ulit.”
Now, I look forward to the simple but profound gift of time. I look forward to seeing my heart continue to strengthen, to the moments of laughter with my family that once felt impossible, and to the opportunity to use my story to help other women find their way out of the dark. I look forward to growing in my career here at Globe, not just as an engineer, but as a woman who knows her worth and her strength.
I used to plan my life in milestones—promotions, timelines, big goals. Now, I measure my life in heartbeats, in shared meals, in quiet mornings when I can breathe a little easier than the day before.
How my journey changed the way I work
My journey has added a "human layer" to my technical expertise. In the fast-paced world of GCP, I’ve become the calmest person in the room during a crisis because I now understand the true scale of life’s emergencies. I lead with empathy, understanding that behind every screen is a person who might be carrying a hidden burden.
When you’ve been in an ER, gasping for air, a system outage—even a big one—suddenly feels different. Serious, yes, but not life-or-death. That perspective allows me to think clearly, act calmly, and support my teammates with more compassion.
I’ve learned to ask, “Kumusta ka talaga?” and mean it.
I’ve learned that performance isn’t just about outputs; it’s also about how we treat people while achieving them.
Daring to do it differently
Now, I dare to do things differently by being open about the reality of my situation. I stood up for myself by taking the time I needed to grieve and by being honest about my health limitations.
At work, I’ve moved away from the idea that I have to be a "high-performing" machine. Instead, I focus on the courage it takes to simply be a woman who shows up.
I prove every day that you can carry the weight of a chronic health condition and deep emotional loss while still contributing your skills. I take care of my work by being steady and disciplined, but I take care of myself by honoring my emotions and knowing when my body needs rest.
For a long time, I thought I had to “bounce back” quickly para hindi makaabala, para hindi ako kaawaan. But healing made me redefine success. Some days, success is finishing a complex task. Other days, success is admitting, “I need to rest,” and actually resting.
Doing it differently also means allowing others to see me—not just as a strong woman, but as a whole woman: strong, soft, grieving, hopeful, afraid, and still choosing to try.
The people who held my heart
I have learned that while courage starts within, it is sustained by the people who walk beside us. We are never meant to carry the heavy chapters of our lives alone.
My husband and my family provided a strength I never knew existed. They didn't just offer care; they held my grief and my physical frailty with a tenderness that allowed me to breathe when I felt I couldn't. They taught me that being loved in your weakest moment is the greatest form of healing.
Returning to work was one of the scariest steps I had to take, but I was met with an overwhelming wave of love. My bosses and friends at Globe offered a kindness that went beyond professional duty. Even without knowing the full depth of my battle, their belief in me helped me trust my own mind and heart again.
This journey taught me that asking for help is not a failure of strength—it is an investment in it. Globe’s support in helping cover my medical expenses was a literal lifeline, proving that I am part of a community that values my life as much as my work. I’ve learned that when we allow ourselves to be supported, we aren't being a burden; we are allowing others to show us the best of humanity.
Hindi ko ito na-survive mag-isa. And that, for me, is a beautiful truth—not a shameful one.
Redefining women’s strength
I used to think being a "strong woman" meant being unbreakable. Now, I know that true strength is being shattered—physically, emotionally, and financially—and choosing to put the pieces back together every single day.
To every woman and mother reading this: Postpartum health is no joke. Whether it is the emotional weight on your spirit or the physical toll on your body—like the hair loss and exhaustion I have faced—please do not suffer in silence.
Seek help. Reaching out for support isn't a sign of weakness; it is an act of love for yourself and your family. As women and mothers, we prove that we can do anything and endure everything for the sake of our families. We are the architects of hope, proving that even when the heart is tired, the love we carry makes us limitless.
I used to measure my worth by how much I could endure quietly. Now, I measure my strength by how honestly I can care for myself while caring for others.
To my fellow Ka-Globe, especially the women navigating silent battles: I see you. I know the weight of putting on a brave face when your heart is heavy. My message to you is this:
You don’t have to be "perfect" to be powerful. There is immense courage in simply showing up as you are.
Some days, your best will be a high-impact project; other days, it will be simply taking the next breath. Both are enough.
Please, do not suffer in silence—reaching out for support is an investment in your strength, not a sign of weakness. Be gentle with your heart, honor your own pace, and remember that your well-being is the foundation of everything you do.
You have survived 100% of your hardest days; trust that same resilience to meet the morning. You are not alone.
This is my courage: choosing to live, to heal, to love, and to keep moving—one heartbeat, one step, one quiet, brave day at a time.
As you reflect on Pauline’s story this Women’s Month, how will you dare to do it differently in your own life—at home, at work, and for yourself?
Follow us on LinkedIn to discover more stories of courage from our Ka-Globe women.
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