when i got pregnant the second time (planned but it was still shocking), i was not prepared. i found out that pregnancy ain't nothing like riding a bicycle; you don't just start pushing the pedals and get through another pregnancy. with ilhan, it was almost breezy compared to aira. the headaches, back pain, projectile vomiting... not to mention a clingy clingy clingy 1.5 year old. urgh. i just want it on record that I DO NOT WANT TO BE PREGNANT AGAIN. but i guess time will tell. it is rezeki after all, and if i do get pregnant again... well... we'll learn to ride that bike again.
we entertained the prospects of delivering the child here in delhi, a souvenir of sorts, but decided in the end that it would be a better and healthier experience to deliver in the comforts of penang. besides, i had yet to satisfy my cravings for mee kari (for which many tears were shed when we found secret recipe, the only restaurant in india, in Bangalore, that i felt would serve the very specific type of mee kari i wanted, was out of business. ah, the pain i felt stabbing through my heart to have gotten on a 3 hour flight, bumpy drives and nausea just to finally stand in front of its glorious entrance to read the sign that says it is no longer operating. ariff's arm and shoulders would know the pain too). once more, ariff and i (with ilhan) had to go through a long distance relationship while we waited for the birth of our second child; at 7 months pregnant, wary of airline pregnant lady policies and also pre-term labour, ilhan and i were whisked of to the land of char kuetiau and cendol to fatten up and lean on the loving shoulders of friends and family while ariff was left to languish in the deadening cold of delhi's winter. of course, it was a difficult time because ariff and i are so dependent on each other, but it was indeed a blessing too because ilhan now speaks malay like a pro (well, a makcik, really) and family members who would have otherwise been deprived of the pleasure of really knowing ilhan if we were in delhi were able to enjoy her cheeky ways and temper tantrums. she was able to go to a parent-toddler class at a playschool and i was able to connect with some wonderful like-situationed women. she learnt to eat durian, watch monkeys, manipulate her grandfathers and she was able to fall in love with our families. aira too blossomed in my womb as i fed her on a steady diet of good malaysian food. as did i. blossomed. into a whale. oh well.
this time around, we had a little difficulty in deciding on a name for the baby. with ilhan, it was so easy! we found 3 names we liked (all for boys, weirdly), hashed out their meanings, and just changed the finalized choice when we discovered she was in fact a she. with aira, there was so much hemming and hawing that we only decided a day before the delivery. luckily, my heart was set when i found an interpretation of her name to be so similar to ihan's. aira, meaning a respectful and honorable person. because after all, that really is all we want them to grow into.
aira's delivery, as with ilhan's, was induced for logistical reasons. she was overdue and my obstetrician was going away for a deepavali holiday. i did not want another doctor handling the delivery, so we decided to induce labour. ah. will i ever learn. people tell me that naturally induced labour is less painful because it is less protracted. maybe i should have taken the risk of not having my doctor around because the ensuing 9 hours of strong contractions were probably not worth it lol. an interesting point i would like to add for posterity is the fact that i peed A LOT after i had my water bag broken. A LOT. on the bed. it was so embarrassing to have a midwife change your bed pads every half an hour for 9 hours. at least this time ariff remembered not to be a good cheerleader and did not say 'it's ok fea, it's normal. everybody embarrasses themselves by peeing by the literful in view of their husbands and have someone change their urine soaked bedclothes every 30 minutes'. he just provided quiet comfort and this really helped. i also had a heated gel pad on me at all times which was very helpful in lessening the pain. highly recommended, a heating pad. just make sure not to burn yourself. anyway, at the end of the 9 hours, i was only dilated 5cm and i was exhausted, having not taking any pain management besides sitting on an exercise ball. Dr. Voon decided it was time for an emergency c-section. after much hemming on ariff's side (i still want to kill him when i think about it. he said he was wary of complications but i just wanted, nay NEEDED, the pain to stop and would have given away a kidney if i had to), the team prepped me for surgery. it was a whirlwind! there were suddenly so many people in the delivery room and so many sounds. the metallic clinking of instruments, people saying "wei, hang buat la cepat sikit! akak ni sakit sangat ni" (how dare she say akak. she was older than me i'm sure), someone changing my gown. ariff leaving the room. it was terrifying not having him with me and i plotted my revenge even though the pain had become more excruciating once it had dawned on me that the 9 hours of contractions were pretty much fruitless. they were gonna cut me up anyway. next thing i knew, my hair plastered on my face and sweat drenching my body, i was clutching a nurse's arm crying 'MAKE IT STOOPPPPPPP!" while i tried to counter-contract the contractions by doing kegels. lol. she probably doesn't work there anymore after i left nail scratches on her arm... then all of a sudden, i was in the cold operating theater that was full of other people. boy people as well as girl people. with my hoohaa and whatever else in plain view. all i could think of between contractions was oh man i didn't have time to shave my legs, oh man my stretch marks are really bad, and oh man where the hell is ariff when i need his arm to bite on. once the attendants had transferred (heaved) me onto the operating table, my MIL came in to tell me that ariff was not allowed in the operating theater but she would be present. i was glad that she was there. she held my hand as the anaesthesiologist gave me the spinal and i gradually lost feeling in my lower body. as i felt the horrible clenching of the contractions start to subside and my exhaustion taking over, dr. voon took her place over me, joking with an attendant about he had lost some weight since she had last seen him 2 weeks ago. and in what felt like a single heartbeat later, over some chatter about a new mamak shop opening down the street, without me feeling anything in my nether regions, dr. voon pulled her out, pronouncing delightedly what a hefty baby i had borne. dr. voon, holding her by the legs, leant over to show me my new baby daughter, covered in vernix and crying lustily, plump and pink, so amazingly alive. it was dejavu. i couldn't believe that the kicking inside my belly was real. i had another daughter. like ilhan, but so not like ilhan. and then i closed my eyes and i heard my MIL whisper how well i had done and how wonderful baby aira was.
i still have stories to tell about my post natal experience, but i will save that for another day. this post is about aira and how wonderfully she's thrived since she came through that window in my tummy. at birth, she was only 2.8kg, but over 3 months of championship level breastfeeding, she quickly gained enough weight to rival her sister. she had jaundice a few days after we left the hospital and it continued for 10 weeks (breastfeeding jaundice), but she is, alhamdulillah, fine. i called her 'peanut' because she just really looked like a peanut; round and rosy brown. she takes almost entirely on my family's side though i see a little of arwah opah (ariff's late grandma) in her features. she is the sweetest little girl with the sweetest temperament... unless she's hungry, when she turns into a little peanutty hulk. i am very guilty of treating her a little, well, roughly, because i cuddle her too close and kiss her too hard. because she is just so edible. like a hazelnut macaron. or a fluffy banana muffin. she even tastes like one. her cheeks are so thick! her nose is so button! her eyes are so liquid! her mouth smells like heaven itself. when she smiles, it's so wide and happy that it seems like there is not enough space for her mouth to stretch because her cheeks become thick barricades on both sides. it's like her mouth tries so hard to push them aside, but she can't, so all her mirth is channeled through the rest of her body and she folds her body backwards to release the abundant energy. and her eyes just radiate that wonderful delightful cloudful happiness that i think she is feeling. it is magic.
now at 4 months old, she 'talks' a lot and has started rolling around all over the place, like hammie from baby blues. it's hilarious. she will grunt and shout and babble whenever i put her down by herself. wow, another noisemaker. she grabs everything now that it is impossible for me to wear my tudung right or to hold on to glassware because they. will. fall. the way she looks into my eyes when i'm holding her or when i'm breastfeeding her, though, make me want her to stop stop stop growing too fast. i haven't gotten enough of you yet. and i can tell that she loves her sister just by the way she looks at ilhan. i hope they will become sisters and best friends.
i never thought it would be possible to love aira as much as i love ilhan, but it is. i have another heart that is full of love just for her.
we entertained the prospects of delivering the child here in delhi, a souvenir of sorts, but decided in the end that it would be a better and healthier experience to deliver in the comforts of penang. besides, i had yet to satisfy my cravings for mee kari (for which many tears were shed when we found secret recipe, the only restaurant in india, in Bangalore, that i felt would serve the very specific type of mee kari i wanted, was out of business. ah, the pain i felt stabbing through my heart to have gotten on a 3 hour flight, bumpy drives and nausea just to finally stand in front of its glorious entrance to read the sign that says it is no longer operating. ariff's arm and shoulders would know the pain too). once more, ariff and i (with ilhan) had to go through a long distance relationship while we waited for the birth of our second child; at 7 months pregnant, wary of airline pregnant lady policies and also pre-term labour, ilhan and i were whisked of to the land of char kuetiau and cendol to fatten up and lean on the loving shoulders of friends and family while ariff was left to languish in the deadening cold of delhi's winter. of course, it was a difficult time because ariff and i are so dependent on each other, but it was indeed a blessing too because ilhan now speaks malay like a pro (well, a makcik, really) and family members who would have otherwise been deprived of the pleasure of really knowing ilhan if we were in delhi were able to enjoy her cheeky ways and temper tantrums. she was able to go to a parent-toddler class at a playschool and i was able to connect with some wonderful like-situationed women. she learnt to eat durian, watch monkeys, manipulate her grandfathers and she was able to fall in love with our families. aira too blossomed in my womb as i fed her on a steady diet of good malaysian food. as did i. blossomed. into a whale. oh well.
this time around, we had a little difficulty in deciding on a name for the baby. with ilhan, it was so easy! we found 3 names we liked (all for boys, weirdly), hashed out their meanings, and just changed the finalized choice when we discovered she was in fact a she. with aira, there was so much hemming and hawing that we only decided a day before the delivery. luckily, my heart was set when i found an interpretation of her name to be so similar to ihan's. aira, meaning a respectful and honorable person. because after all, that really is all we want them to grow into.
aira's delivery, as with ilhan's, was induced for logistical reasons. she was overdue and my obstetrician was going away for a deepavali holiday. i did not want another doctor handling the delivery, so we decided to induce labour. ah. will i ever learn. people tell me that naturally induced labour is less painful because it is less protracted. maybe i should have taken the risk of not having my doctor around because the ensuing 9 hours of strong contractions were probably not worth it lol. an interesting point i would like to add for posterity is the fact that i peed A LOT after i had my water bag broken. A LOT. on the bed. it was so embarrassing to have a midwife change your bed pads every half an hour for 9 hours. at least this time ariff remembered not to be a good cheerleader and did not say 'it's ok fea, it's normal. everybody embarrasses themselves by peeing by the literful in view of their husbands and have someone change their urine soaked bedclothes every 30 minutes'. he just provided quiet comfort and this really helped. i also had a heated gel pad on me at all times which was very helpful in lessening the pain. highly recommended, a heating pad. just make sure not to burn yourself. anyway, at the end of the 9 hours, i was only dilated 5cm and i was exhausted, having not taking any pain management besides sitting on an exercise ball. Dr. Voon decided it was time for an emergency c-section. after much hemming on ariff's side (i still want to kill him when i think about it. he said he was wary of complications but i just wanted, nay NEEDED, the pain to stop and would have given away a kidney if i had to), the team prepped me for surgery. it was a whirlwind! there were suddenly so many people in the delivery room and so many sounds. the metallic clinking of instruments, people saying "wei, hang buat la cepat sikit! akak ni sakit sangat ni" (how dare she say akak. she was older than me i'm sure), someone changing my gown. ariff leaving the room. it was terrifying not having him with me and i plotted my revenge even though the pain had become more excruciating once it had dawned on me that the 9 hours of contractions were pretty much fruitless. they were gonna cut me up anyway. next thing i knew, my hair plastered on my face and sweat drenching my body, i was clutching a nurse's arm crying 'MAKE IT STOOPPPPPPP!" while i tried to counter-contract the contractions by doing kegels. lol. she probably doesn't work there anymore after i left nail scratches on her arm... then all of a sudden, i was in the cold operating theater that was full of other people. boy people as well as girl people. with my hoohaa and whatever else in plain view. all i could think of between contractions was oh man i didn't have time to shave my legs, oh man my stretch marks are really bad, and oh man where the hell is ariff when i need his arm to bite on. once the attendants had transferred (heaved) me onto the operating table, my MIL came in to tell me that ariff was not allowed in the operating theater but she would be present. i was glad that she was there. she held my hand as the anaesthesiologist gave me the spinal and i gradually lost feeling in my lower body. as i felt the horrible clenching of the contractions start to subside and my exhaustion taking over, dr. voon took her place over me, joking with an attendant about he had lost some weight since she had last seen him 2 weeks ago. and in what felt like a single heartbeat later, over some chatter about a new mamak shop opening down the street, without me feeling anything in my nether regions, dr. voon pulled her out, pronouncing delightedly what a hefty baby i had borne. dr. voon, holding her by the legs, leant over to show me my new baby daughter, covered in vernix and crying lustily, plump and pink, so amazingly alive. it was dejavu. i couldn't believe that the kicking inside my belly was real. i had another daughter. like ilhan, but so not like ilhan. and then i closed my eyes and i heard my MIL whisper how well i had done and how wonderful baby aira was.
i still have stories to tell about my post natal experience, but i will save that for another day. this post is about aira and how wonderfully she's thrived since she came through that window in my tummy. at birth, she was only 2.8kg, but over 3 months of championship level breastfeeding, she quickly gained enough weight to rival her sister. she had jaundice a few days after we left the hospital and it continued for 10 weeks (breastfeeding jaundice), but she is, alhamdulillah, fine. i called her 'peanut' because she just really looked like a peanut; round and rosy brown. she takes almost entirely on my family's side though i see a little of arwah opah (ariff's late grandma) in her features. she is the sweetest little girl with the sweetest temperament... unless she's hungry, when she turns into a little peanutty hulk. i am very guilty of treating her a little, well, roughly, because i cuddle her too close and kiss her too hard. because she is just so edible. like a hazelnut macaron. or a fluffy banana muffin. she even tastes like one. her cheeks are so thick! her nose is so button! her eyes are so liquid! her mouth smells like heaven itself. when she smiles, it's so wide and happy that it seems like there is not enough space for her mouth to stretch because her cheeks become thick barricades on both sides. it's like her mouth tries so hard to push them aside, but she can't, so all her mirth is channeled through the rest of her body and she folds her body backwards to release the abundant energy. and her eyes just radiate that wonderful delightful cloudful happiness that i think she is feeling. it is magic.
now at 4 months old, she 'talks' a lot and has started rolling around all over the place, like hammie from baby blues. it's hilarious. she will grunt and shout and babble whenever i put her down by herself. wow, another noisemaker. she grabs everything now that it is impossible for me to wear my tudung right or to hold on to glassware because they. will. fall. the way she looks into my eyes when i'm holding her or when i'm breastfeeding her, though, make me want her to stop stop stop growing too fast. i haven't gotten enough of you yet. and i can tell that she loves her sister just by the way she looks at ilhan. i hope they will become sisters and best friends.
i never thought it would be possible to love aira as much as i love ilhan, but it is. i have another heart that is full of love just for her.
