aira

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.

the walking makes me cry

Dear Ilhan,

Today, I realized something. You no longer crawl. At 1 year and 3 months, you have found your feet and you seem to be very fond of them too. Finally, after your first cold winter, your legs woke up from their sleep and started to pitter patter from point a to point b and sometimes straight to point z. Your whole body moves with your feet, your hands swing and your head bobbles and your eyes laugh and your smile makes my whole world spin round and round.

Sometimes, during your incredibly long journey from the bedroom to the playroom, you stop and stoop to check out a piece of paper on the floor, and you say 'OOOH!' and suddenly it's a piece of the moon or a piece of the sky. And then you continue to toddle toddle toddle with the man in the moon clutched safely in your hands and your smiling mouth singing a song only the both of you understand.

Sometimes, with your new habit of carrying a bag 'datin-style' hooked in the crook of your elbow, you go swish swish swish in your fancy imaginary ballgown to a fancy imaginary ball. I worry when you seem to be so taken with baubles and fancies, striking poses and making appreciative noises when we let you play pretend with a necklace, but it cracks me up to see you so happy to be wearing a too-long strand of plastic stones around your little neck. That smile and that giggle and that glee... I can't make myself say no when I should. I know I will regret it sooner or later, but to see you that happy, I tell myself it will be worth it.

Sometimes, you walk so fast your body leans in front like it wants to go faster than your legs, like you're skiing and the G-force has claimed you. Sometimes you don't walk as much as you dance, your arms stretched out to your sides or up in the air, your body going left right left right, your feet going left left right, your shoulder rolling in a bhangra rhythm and your head bobbing to hip hop. Sometimes, when you're upset because I suddenly selfishly needed to pee, you'll be walking so fast you'll land thud bump! on your tush and then with a wail you'll get up again and so it goes till you've either reached me or I've finished my business and have returned to you whereby you promptly forget me again to play with your singing block.

But my favourite favourite one of all is when you are standing somewhere, thinking a thought, taking everything in, singing a song, in a world all your own and then you see me or your baba and you just stop and walk-toddle-run into our open arms with the biggest most beautiful gap-toothed smile and you say 'HI!!!' like we really truly deserve it.The heart, brain, liver, gall bladder, eyes, bones, cartilage, arteries all melt into a gloopy mass of mommy/daddy and baby. Oh baby... That feeling is nothing I have ever had.

Baby, you are growing so fast. It's been more than a year and I'm still trying to believe that I was ever pregnant in the first place! Your first smile, your first yawn, your first fart, your first crawl... I remember them but I don't remember them because now you are really and truly walking. I can no longer hold you captive in my arms, citing your lack of independent mobility as an excuse to bury my face in your sweet smelling hair every 5 seconds.  Congratulations on finally deciding it was time to break out the legs but no thanks for putting me in this paradox of happiness for you growing up and sadness that you are growing up.

You are my sunshine but you are also my hail and thunder and my Alaskan winter. You are my frenemy forever. I love you so very very much sayang, but more than anything I am so very very very thankful.

Mama

aidilfitri 2013

Selamat hari raya maaf zahir batin.

We didn't feel so lonely this raya because ariff's half of the family were here. And it was wonderful.

I owe myself so many stories about life here in delhi. It's been more than 2 months but i have yet to post even 1 story for posterity. Not sure if i should blame the amount of time and energy that ilhan demands from me or just my own pure laziness :)

Till later.

remembering

I remember:

-          Squatting on a blue linoleum floor, watching an ant parade with Zubair

-          Watching yachts blown about in a lake with Ayah

-          Pushing my toy pram in a field of daffodils

-          Hearing Abbas get a tongue-lashing for making Maryam cry

-          Carrying a sleeping Maryam from my parents room and putting her in a cot in my room

-          Sleeping in my kelambu in my room with Mak after watching Stephen King’s IT

-          Dressing Umar up and taking him to the playground in the afternoons

-          Playing masak-masak under the big durian tree in front of Nenek’s house using REAL fire and ‘cooking’ plastic bag soup with rambutan leaves

-          Mandi kolam, mandi parit kong, climbing the mangosteen tree, kait rambutan, catching tiny fish with my siblings and cousins and uncles and aunties

-          Throwing stones into the canal in front of Embah’s house

-          Getting a tongue-lashing from Embah for throwing stones in the canal

-          Paman Aee ‘s ‘telur geseng’ and firework shows

-          Going to the Saturday morning market and buying 30 sen candy

-          Eating keropok lekor and jambu batu and laksa during recess

-          Playing getah, batu seremban and congkak with friends at school

-          Not having problems beyond unfinished homework

dreaming of home

since ilhan and i have been staying in PB and Penang these past few months, shuttling between them every few weeks, i've been keeping myself busy with little 'projects', including reorganizing my parents' house. i've been cleaning rooms, organizing the accumulated stuff generally associated with little birdies having flown  the coop, and throwing away a looooooooooooooot of throw-away-ables that neither of my parents have had the heart or energy to throw away. its been satisfying to be able to help declutter my parents' lives, and it has also made me feel extremely nostalgic about our little home in putrajaya.

ariff and i started our life together in a teeny-tiny apartment/flat home, government quarters in putrajaya. we didn't have much money then (not as if we have any more now haha), so we couldn't really do up the house in a way we wanted. but as time went by, we built our little home with bits and pieces we loved. soon enough, we established a sort of style or look which i like to call 'kindergarten chic', but which our parents call 'oh please grow up will you' :) since both ariff and i like brightly coloured and adorable things, we ended up buying a red sofa and lots of accent pieces in bright bright colours. we got posters and pictures of our favourite movies and sports and things that we hung together with a select few of our personal photos. we loved that our first home spoke so much of who we were, but on a budget :)

since money was such an issue, we had some rules about the procurement of household items. besides the essentials like electrical appliances, the rules were

• if we don't LOVE it, we don't buy it.
• if we LOVE LOVE LOVE it, but there's no space for it or there's no practical use for it, don't buy it.
• if we can't afford it, we don't buy it. BUT, if we can afford it in the future and its not a necessity, save then buy it in the future.
• if we don't love it, but we need it urgently, shop around, make sure there really is no other affordable choice, and only then we buy it.
• if its necessary and quality's not an issue, just get the cheapest we can find.

these rules were very useful because they helped stop us (okay, me) from buying things that we'd just regret having sometime in the future. this is especially so for knick-knacks or souvenir items; we always made sure the pictures or vases or cushions we bought would fit in the scheme of our house. as much as we didn't really 'decorate' the house, our restraint helped everything coalesce into our kindy haven. in hindsight, i think its important to think, early on, about how you want your house to look like. choose a style that fits your family's needs because it helps you edit your purchases. remember that the furniture you buy, if it doesn't break, will be with you forever. if you pay good money, make sure you get a piece that will not just stand the test of time, but also the test of your changing styles and needs.

but of course, no matter how beautiful and glamorous a house, it's always what you make of it that makes it a home. i miss our little home and the big memories...

The guy that made it home for me :)

Friends always make it better

 Nothing like food and flowers to cheer us up!

And of course, the magical balcony that this blog was named in honour of. No matter how tiny your balcony, it can take you to places you never knew you could be.

but the era is over and we move on. now ariff, ilhan, and i will be building a new home in delhi. it will probably be just a short stay of 3 or 4 years, but that is never an excuse to live in a house you don't love. i'll miss precinct 18, but ooooh, all that dreaming and planning and buying/renting and nesting! i can't wait! 

counting down and tearing up

it's 3 months and 10 days till we'll be reunited in new delhi, india. sounds like a lifetime, but i guess its a teensy bit shorter than the 5 months we were staring at when ariff left in early january. for me, time inches by when i think of ariff.

but with ilhan, my my time flies! she'll be 3 months old on sunday! she's a wonderfully content baby, happy enough as long as she has her milk, sleep, and play. she can now hold 'conversations' with people, responds to sounds, smiles and coos, and is able to raise her head when she's on her tummy. my darling precious baby girl has outgrown some of her baby clothes and that has made me tearful. oh baby... no matter what people say about how i've ended up being a housewife etc, i am glad Allah has bestowed upon me the rezeki of being able to raise my baby myself. i believe my rezeki is best for me for now. 

aren't you a lucky baby?

bliss

i know i've been talking and writing and taking pictures of ilhan too much. pre-pregnancy, i would have wanted to shoot me.

but i can't help it really.

maybe one day i'll write something that is not even remotely linked to ilhan. probably.

but now, i'm content with just staring at her all day and nibbling her tiny fingers and soaking in her smiles and just loving her.

oh baby. you have me wrapped around your little pink mittens.

That 'Special' Feeling

Being a first time father is an experience that is hard to explain to people. The past few weeks before our baby Ilhan was born have been extremely challenging. Juggling between office 

commitments, relocating to a new country, moving house, not to mention having a baby on the 

way, is not a walk in the park. It takes a toll on you both physically and mentally.

However, when you stack all this up to being in a delivery room, 'the problems of the world' that i faced earlier seem to melt away. I will forever remember ever so clearly the longest 14 hours of my life. I will always remember the conversation i had with my wife at the early hours as we entered the hospital; we talked about how the future would be like and we went through the names we had in mind in order to distract ourselves from the inevitable and in-avertable. I will always remember the moment when both my wife and i sought each other’s forgiveness just before we entered the labour room. It was a hard reality pill to swallow as what we were about to face was a real life and death situation. As the tears streamed down our faces, i could recall that it was one of the scariest moments of my life. At that moment of time, i was hit by the reality that i could lose my wife. I thank my parents and my teachers for instilling in me to trust God and his plans even at testing times like this.

It was definitely a test of character as well as teamwork when i had to see my wife go through child labour. I have never seen my wife turn so blue when the delivery team asked her to push through the immense pain. I have never seen such calm and collectiveness in the form of the nurses, midwives, and doctors whom were present. Despite never having gone through such an experience before, i was proud to be there every step of the way.

I remember when Ilhan came out, her eyes were wide open and her hands were moving frantically ,yet she was quiet. In the seconds before she screamed and introduced herself to the world, the situation around us was so quiet that you could actually hear a pin drop and cut the tension with a knife. But when we heard her for the first time, the feeling of relief swept over us like a gush of much needed fresh air.

Cutting the umbilical cord of your child is an amazing experience. It is a rite of passage and stamp of responsibility for the fathers who get the opportunity. It felt like a sense of responsibility naturally taking place on my shoulder and the problems that i had faced in office a few days earlier seemed insignificant all together at that moment of time. Now, when i hold my daughter in my arms, i feel a sense of completeness; a sense that despite all the wrongs that i have done, i actually did something right. However, i do realise that having a child is a huge responsibility. To tell you the truth, i am nervous right now but i am excited for the future, so bring on the responsibility.

Happy Family 

The birth story

This is my personal account of what happened, all told through bits of memories and residual pain. My parents, my in-laws, my siblings, and of course, my husband are the most wonderful people in the world. Thank you Ayah and Mak for the never-ending doa and Yassin as I fought for my life during the delivery, thank you Abah for canceling your trip to KL to be there at the birth, thank you Mak for making everything so comfortable for us and for being the person to welcome Ilhan to the world, thank you to our siblings for their concern, doa, and words of comfort, thank you to everyone who sent encouraging thoughts our way. And most of all, thank you to Ariff for keeping his promise to be by my side through it all. To Ilhan, I love you, baby, forever and ever.

Moving on to the story...

Ilhan was due on the 6^th of Dec, but we were hoping she’d come a little earlier i.e. on the weekend before that so Ariff would be here to help me through the early stages of labour. Alas! She was not ready to leave the warm wet place of her inhabitance just yet. So, during the subsequent week, in an effort to hurry her along, I walked around the house as much as I could and did all the squatting exercises I was told to do. I had never been so diligent with exercise in my life!

View from above (my pregnant tummy)

But Dec 6^th came and went and no baby came crying hello to the world. So I thought, oh well, we’re just going to have to wait till she’s ready and Ariff will just have to race back home when she does. On Saturday Dec 8^th, which was my birthday, we went to see Dr. Voon for another check up. She said that my cervix had dilated about 2cm and it was favourable for birth, and to our surprise, she added ‘Would you like to have her today?’ I had thought that induction was reserved for only emergency cases but we learnt that, apparently, as long as the cervix is favourable, you can induce birth, providing of course everything else is okay. We did think it would be pretty fantastic if the baby and I shared a birth date, but we didn’t know we could arrange for it. LOL. But Ariff said no, we shouldn’t have the baby on my birthday, simply because it was my birthday J. So, instead, we arranged to be admitted on Sunday so that I could have a proper birthday and so that he didn’t have to go back to Putrajaya only to have to rush back to Penang when the labour starts.

Leaving home for the hospital

On Sunday, after a Saturday-ful of birthday happiness, Ariff and I walked into the hospital as pregnant people for the last time (at least I did LOL). As soon as we checked into our room, I noticed that I had some bloody show. It was quite a relief to know that, even if we weren’t inducing that day, labour was going to happen soon anyway. Dr. Voon administered the prostaglandin at about 10am but I did not experience any pains. After that, the nurses had to prep me. I do wish someone would have told me about all the procedures one must go through once admitted though. For example:

• 1.       You are given an enema. And, sometimes, they make you do your business in a bedpan because they don’t want to interfere with the prostaglandin which was inserted just before. Thankfully, I was able to cajole them into letting me use the toilet. But still, a nurse had to be present IN THE TOILET WITH ME just in case something happens. How petrifying.
• 2.       A nurse will shave your crotch.

I just wished I was spared the embarrassment of being embarrassed by their ‘requests’. Oh well. Lesson learnt. As we waited for the magic to happen, Ariff helped give me back rubs and took me to the garden for some fresh air. It was actually all quite nice despite public-viewing of toilette.

Since the process had already been started, it had to be continued even if I had not felt any contractions that should have been induced by the prostaglandin. So at about 5 or 6pm, I was taken to the delivery suite to get my water bag broken. Up to that point, I was still very cheerful and quite excited about the birth, despite the fact that my mother-in-law and mother kept telling me how awfully painful it was. At the time, I just couldn’t fathom what they meant by ‘bloody awful horrible terrible pain’ (rephrased). All I wanted was to have the baby out so I can finally sleep on my tummy again. And of course, to welcome her into this wonderful world.

Once we arrived at the delivery suite, things started to move very quickly. Dr. Voon broke my water bag and put in a drip of something I no longer remember.  And the pain started. Oh the PAIN. All those things people say about birth and how horrible the pain is? They’re all true. It felt like a combination of very sharp knife slicing through my abdomen and someone hitting me like I was a punching bag... and it went on and on and on and on. It was achey and throbbing and slicey all at the same time. I had already decided on a natural birth so I wasn’t given an epidural. I must have been crazy (haha). Before I went in, I told Ariff (quite jovially) that we could watch the 8pm Thailand-Malaysia game on telly while we ‘wait for the baby’. Well, we did watch it, but I had my eyes and mind closed most of the time as I concentrated on not feeling the pain (stupid idea). For the next 7 hours, I was in and out of consciousness as I got lost in a fog of contractions. Thank God for Ariff as he helped to rub my back, coached my breathing and made me sniff the relaxing essential oil mix we brought along. Most of all, he held my hand all through it and didn’t say anything whenever I clenched his arm too hard. 

Apparently, my labour was quite protracted because my cervix was dilating pretty slowly. Around 11pm they asked me if I wanted some laughing gas. Like a thirsty man offered water, I seized the chance! So I guess the birth wasn’t completely natural, but I like to think it helped me through because I was already really really tired. When the labour started, I endured the pain as silently as possible by just humming and zikir, but as they became more intense, I became snappier and irritable. I told poor Ariff to shut up whenever he gave me words of encouragement like ‘it’s okay sayang’ or ‘you can do it’ (oh how I hate you can do it) because I found it so annoying. I think I may have snapped at the nurse/midwife/doctor too… oh well.

Eventually, Dr. Voon asked me if I would like to push. I had been refraining from pushing for a while, so once I was given the green light, I heaved myself and pushed! I don’t think I’ve ever used that much energy in my life! I could hear the clinking of surgical tools and people talking and somehow my legs were in stirrups, but all I could think of was pushing. But after I had pushed a few times, I could hear the doctor saying there may be some complications because the baby was facing down(OP position) and I might have to get a Caesarean. I could hear Ariff and my MIL (who is a pediatrician and was present during the birth) talking about it, but it really didn’t register to me. Dr. Voon gave me 20 more minutes – or else. Miraculously, the next time I pushed, the baby’s head moved in her hand! Yeay, no C-section! However, because I had been pushing for so long, both baby and I were tired so she asked for permission to use vacuum to help the baby out. I remember hearing her ask me this, but I was too tired to say anything… I was reserving whatever energy I had left to push again. Actually, I had been ignoring everyone for a while already and just focused on getting her out J. I heard my MIL telling Dr. Voon to go ahead since she (Dr. Voon) knew what the best course of action would be. And so, at 1.02am, with another mighty push and with the help of a little suction, Ilhan Mohamed Ariff came out slick wet and with eyes wide open into the world. And the pain just stopped. Alhamdulillah. Through my pain-hazed eyes, I saw my MIL hold her by the legs and thump her on the bottom, and then I heard my baby scream for her life. Are there words to describe the feeling of hearing your baby’s voice for the first time? The only thing I could say was ‘Oh my God, she’s real’. I wonder what Ariff felt when the nurses gave Ilhan to him so that he could recite the azan and iqamah to her… To think that the wriggly feeling that lived in my tummy for 9 months was an actual baby… Subhanallah.

Once they cleaned Ilhan, my MIL, a fervent breastfeeding advocate, quickly placed her on my breast. In my comatose consciousness, I felt her skin on mine and her tiny mouth look for milk. ‘Downstairs’, I felt Dr. Voon reach for the last clots of blood and I felt the needle sewing my skin together.Then I fell into the deepest, sweetest sleep. Even with my eyes closed in sleep, I could hear my parents and in-laws asking me how I was and saying how beautiful Ilhan looked, I could feel the nurses putting my clothes on for me, and I felt myself being moved back to my room in a bumpy elevator ride. It all felt like a very vivid dream. So when a nurse brought Ilhan to me at 3am for a feeding, I put her to my breast while in a trance. She was so real and warm and snuggly. When Ariff woke up, he held Ilhan’s hand in one hand, and my hand in the other. In a moment of pure epiphany, I realized we were suddenly a family of three. And I remembered how I used to feel the happiest when I woke up in the morning to see him smile in his sleep and the baby move in my tummy, because I was feeling the same exact feeling. But better.

Hello Baba Hello World

39 weeks

Bun in the oven!

At 39 weeks of pregnancy, with the delivery so extremely fantastically imminent, I still sometimes find it difficult to believe that I'm pregnant. In about 1 week's time (or less!), I will be a mother. Phew. And my squishy squashy adorable perpetual-5-year-old husband is going to be a father. Double PHEW.

I have been fortunate enough to have a 'restful' pregnancy aka stay-at-home-sometimes-working-pregnant-mom. I have also been blessed with a wonderfully morning-sickness-etc free pregnancy, Alhamdulillah, which just rather compounds the unreal feeling of having a baby in my womb. It was only on the day that I felt the baby move did I allow myself to fully recognize the fact that, in some weird Species-ly way, I was growing a human being in my body. As the movements became stronger and more 'visual' (yes, you can see the baby move her limbs) and when I could no longer see my own feet, I gradually believed what everyone was telling me i.e. I'm going to be a mommy.

Before we decided to get pregnant, I had always felt a little apprehensive about having children. To me, children are great when they're someone else's, but when they're your own and you can't pass them off to someone else when they cry, well it just becomes a little tedious on the nerves. It's not just the diaper-changing or the constant sleepless nights - uni days were probably worse off - it's the mere fact that you are irrevocably, unquestionably, completely RESPONSIBLE for another life form. I really don't think there's a parallel example for the burden of parenthood. Getting married, for example, simply kind of sort of means you get a roommate and extra legal rights; however, if you feel one day you no longer want to commit to the relationship, you have an exit clause. You can free yourself from marriage, work, credit cards, habits and ideas, but you cannot divorce, change or terminate a relationship with your child when you feel you don't want/cannot stand the commitment anymore. When you have a child, you MUST be responsible for him/her, come rain or shine.

Ariff of course has always been enthusiastic about the idea of becoming a father :) If you know him personally, you would understand why, even though he acts like a child most of the time anyway. I think it was very gracious of him to have considered my feelings about having children and not 'forced' me into breeding immediately after the marriage. I am very glad we were able to rationally discuss the topic of children before we made the decision to have any. In the 1.5 years +- of the marriage, not only were we able to sort out our expectations about the family we were to have, we were also able to approach family-building in a more emotionally and financially mature manner. Though I realize that many people want to have children immediately after they marry, I still stand by the advantages of waiting a while, giving time for the marital relationship to settle, getting to know each other on all levels, and discussing expectations about the family first. I just feel it makes the marital bond stronger which will, hopefully, nurture healthy family ties in the future. I know for a fact that it's difficult to raise contented children when the mother and father are constantly at each other's throats about house chores or money woes just because they (mom and dad) do not have a system/SOP that assists in solving problems BECAUSE they never made time to talk about such a system. I can say more on advantages of planning, but I digress. I just wanted to say, out of all this brainfartfuzz, that I am glad Ariff and I waited to start the family because my apprehension about having children is gone. In it's place is just a rather unsteady chain of emotions like excitement, hope, nervousness, and deep satisfaction. But I guess that's okay.

I guess now, at 39 weeks, there's really no denying that I am to be a mother with the presentation of physical evidence and hormones and the overwhelming feelings. And you know what? I've discovered that I quite love it. I talk to my tummy all the time, stroke my tummy all the time (my FIL comments that I don't need to be constantly holding the tummy because the baby cannot logically fall out if i don't... or can it?), sit in bed and dream about tiny baby feet all the time... Sometimes, when I wake up in the mornings and see Ariff's smiling sleeping face and feel the baby moving in my tummy, there are no dark clouds in my heart or in my head. There's just light.

Acara 10,000 Langkah Merdeka

On 9 September 2012 I began my first official walk/run for the year 2012. It was a good warm fuzzy feeling because I felt empowered and determined as it was a step into a positive direction: towards a stronger healthier person I aim to become.

The day began early as I made my way to the Palace of Justice, Putrajaya for the rendezvous point. Picked up my participants kit and got myself psyched up mentally & physically for the race.  As I was getting ready, I met up with Fateha & Cordellia (office mates from WP). We had a warm up session before we were flagged of. 10,000 steps was approximately 6.5KM and to be honest it did not seem to far away/long/tiring as most of the time we were chatting all the way. 

To be honest it was a fun endeavor. Got to walked in the middle of the road in Putrajaya and get fresh air in the morning but the feeling of empowerment was the one that I really loved and look forward to in the walk/runs to come.

Hopefully this event is a beginning to many more walk/run events in the future & I hope this is a great start to a life changing transformation programme for me in caring for myself & my family Insyallah.  

Hari Raya 2012

We’ve been married for the past 2 years but 2012 is probably the first time we celebrated Hari Raya as a couple since last we celebrated our first in Australia. To tell you the truth, I was really concerned on whether I could adapt into a family that have very different lives from my own. To complicate the matter and to make things a little more interesting, Fea’s heritages are of both Jawa and Banjar….talk about learning to learn and adapt quickly. My learning curve for that week took significant strides forward.

This year’s strategy to celebrate Raya by taking the train & plane method…and by gosh it worked to our advantage. Will consider this method for visits to come. The day began by first saying goodbye to the neighbourhood twins before we made our way to Embah’s place in Bagan Datoh. Since it was my first time, I was really excited with the scenic routes that ayah took just to give us a sense of how it felt to ‘balik kampung’. We made it to BG during Zohor time and ayah brought us to a nearby mosque that ayah says was made by embah’s embah quite some time ago. The wooden old school architecture was like nothing I haven’t seen before and it was nice to be part of this place.

One of the reasons that we had come home early for Raya was because there was much to be done in preparations for the big day tomorrow. We got straight into it with making lemang and (attempted) ketupat. I had also a go at making chicken rendang. In the evening the children had a go at the bunga api, which I had not played for in years. It took me back to memories when things were just simple. To be honest with you, I miss those times. By the end of the day, I was physically drained with the activities that we had throughout the day and the non-stop eating session we had as a family. However I was fill with excitement to the prospect of celebrating my first raya in a kampung ever.

After sorting the duit raya for the children, the men proceeded to the mosque where we had Eidulfitri Prayers meanwhile the ladies proceeded to get the meals for the day ahead ready. Upon returning, we then had a bersalam session. (This is an interesting custom because everyone set in a circle of their own families and then they each will move to bersalaman with other families around the circle). It was definitely somewhat  unique to me. During the time here we went to few family houses within the area including Fea’s great grandmother’s place. In the short two days I got to have a crash course of jawa life and the atmosphere here (i.e baby crying, markas PAS, no-stop eating, no kitchen access etc) would be a good reminder that everybody lives different lives from my way of life in Penang.

To think that the culture shock was over, the very next day we headed to Nenek’s place in Chenderong Balai. Due to the Raya Holidays, a 30 minute drive became 3x the time and distance but we were really glad to finally arrive. The place however was a different shadow then I remembered it to be. Nenek hasn’t been feeling well and the place has not been cared for some time. However this Raya has taught me to accept everything as what it is. There is still love in this house and I was determined to enjoy this leg of the Raya. Nenek’s house is unique as there is an abandoned surau literally right infront of it. So for our prayers the boys will make way into the surau. Back at the house I noticed that most of the boys were still teenagers and young adults like myself. We got the bonding session off to a kick-start by playing FiFA 2012 on Omar’s laptop. It felt like playing with my brothers especially with all the trash talk and all but then as the matches progress into the night I was just lucky to survive the games. I must say that games (even video games) bonds people together.

After spending a fun few days in Perak, it was now time to head up north to Penang for Raya. This time around Raya was pretty quiet as most of the time we were in hospital caring to opah whom is now suffering a stroke. It was not as festive as before but there were a few highlights that I will forever remember:

i)                    Ashraff b’day at Queensbay where he had a pain in the neck…no smile

ii)                   Lunch at Tao….buffet to the max

iii)                 We found out that we will be having a baby Ilhan and all is well so far =)

iv)                 Heart-to-heart discussions with my siblings

v)                  Made a promise to make a different to change my life after this raya (especially the weight   

              dept)

vi)                Found out how people could be sooooo self absorbed with themselves that it was so 

              emotionally draining for me

vii)             Managed to beraya at the hospital…finally

viii)         Joined a Ketupat  Eating Contest @ Island Plaza….and became Champion (RM 300 CBTL  

              voucher)

       

I have to say that the Raya celebrations this year had its ups and downs but it was probably one of the most memorable ones I had in years. It was also a great break from the hustling and bustling office life and a good & much needed recharge indeed.       

Pre-Eid 2012

Last year, Ariff and I celebrated our first Raya as husband and wife in Canberra; it wasn't horrible but it wasn't awesome either. Being away from the families on such a sentimental holiday, though in the company of fellow countrymen and familiar food, simply did not feel very right. Ariff is my family now too, but I still miss the traditions that my family have kept many years before. 

This year, Alhamdulillah, we are home. At the start of the year, we had doubts about where we would be come August (due to Ariff's pending posting... gah!), so we're just really happy that we have been given the opportunity to experience the whole balik kampung thing together.

For logistical practicality purposes, we have decided to celebrate the first 2 days of Raya with my side of the family first, and then spend the rest of the week in Penang.  Since we will most possibly be posted by early next year (though I say this with a modicum of skepticism), and since I will be delivering in December, we will not have much chance of doing our rounds with the relatives before we leave; Raya just seems to be the best time to just meet everyone for now. If we were to go to Penang first, we wouldn't be able to go back to Chenderong and Sg. Tiang as my parents would already be back in PB by the thirds day of Raya. Besides, we have not been back to either kampung for EONS! I also want Ariff to experience the balik kampung for raya atmosphere and bakar lemang, make ketupat etc. as he has never done anything like that before. However, it will still be a bit new and possibly shocking to him to not be with his own family for Raya for the FIRST TIME EVER (Canberra doesn't count), as I am sure it will be for his family too, especially as Opah is unwell. I am thankful that both he and his family, and my family too, understand that things have changed and are on-board with our plans.  

One of the worst things about the Raya holidays in Malaysia (or any other major holiday for that matter) is the flood of motorised vehicles on the highways. The last time I drove home for Raya, it took me 7 hours to reach a destination that would normally take just 3. So, this year, we are feeling decidedly smug with our own cleverness as we will be skipping the godawful jam on the Plus highway because we will be taking public transport! We'll be taking the train to PB (but we've decided to alight at Tapah just so my parents don't have to wait for us in PB and sacrifice precious traffic and preparation time as we will only be able to leave Putrajaya on Friday night thus arriving on Saturday. One whole day wasted as they have Friday off), and we'll be flying back to KL from Penang! SO SMART!!! But how will we move around for the festivities, you ask? No fear, as my parents are taking 2 cars to the kampung with them; one for them and one for us. Thank you Abbas for being home for Raya this year as this could not have been done without you :)  

Another issue that I find myself facing this coming Raya is that of the 'what should I bring to my in-laws house for Raya' issue. My parents have always set an example of giving sedekah to the family come Raya; my mom usually gives kain batik or pelikat or kuih or baju raya or money or daging etc to both my embah and nenek every year. I have come to appreciate this habit and want to adopt it myself as a sign of generosity and filial piety. But the thing is, my in-laws are very practical people, and they are very practical people who are fully self-sufficient. Though I'm sure they'd appreciate anything that we give them, I still feel that gifts like baju raya or money are superfluous. Therefore, I decided to gift them with effort or sweat, blood and tears. I toyed with making them a batch of Ariff's favourite chocolate chip cookies, but in the end I decided to make them sambal goreng instead because Abah likes it so much. Of course, I had to take up a project that I had never attempted before for an occasion as important as this. Oh well. It took me 2 whole days to whip up enough for the Penang side, the PB side and the Putrajaya side, and cost me exhaustion and back pain. It was a labour of love :) I just hope they like it because, as usual, I feel it's a little under the mark. Oh well. 

It's just 3 more days to Raya and I'm so very excited! We leave tomorrow! So I will now go and pack :) 

ruminations on parenting

yes, i feel you. from here 

as i near the 23rd week of my pregnancy, i have parenting on my brain. before we decided to get pregnant, one of my biggest concerns about having a child was whether or not i would be able to be a good parent; now that i'm pregnant, i feel, sometimes, like i need to get a time machine, travel back in time and make sure that my ovum remains untouched because there is just no way in heaven i'd be able to be the just, selfless, adaptive, committed, and loving mother my child deserves to have. 

people tell me that i should read on the issue to calm my nerves, believing that i will take comfort in abstract psychological terms and definitive methods of 'child-rearing'. though academic logic usually helps me make sense of strange things, it does nothing more but overwhelm me when it comes to this scary and mysterious world of motherhood. there are so many things that i do not know! alhamdulillah, i am thankful that i've had training in basic childcare like diaper-changing, feeding and general upkeep of a child's cleanliness by virtue of being a big sister to 4 siblings (ok, i only took care of the last 2), but i'm guessing pretty wildly that being a mom is different from being a big sister. it's like what my father says about why he's so excited about being a grandfather: he can play with the child or even change the diaper, but when the baby cries, he can just hand the child back to the mother and not feel guilty about it. when you're the mother/father, you'd better know how to make that baby shut up or you'd soon be crying with it. 

looking around me, i see that people approach child-rearing differently. there are parents who allow their children to do anything they want because they want the child to experience the world without boundaries and develop their imagination bla bla bla therefore finding it appropriate to keep quiet when their children wreck item displays in supermarkets or make another child cry (or just because they can't be bothered to restrain hyperactive children); parents who keep a constant stream of nagging in order to help children visualize the boundaries of the real world and warn them of impending 'hurt real bad' situations, sometimes speaking so loudly of how absolutely useless the children are that passersby take double-takes; parents who feel that they are the supreme-most-important-being-of-authority that their children must not only respect them, but cower in fear every time they hear footfalls and see their parents' shadow; parents who talk to their children like their children are babies no matter how old they are; parents who force their children to become like them because they feel they are the best, most amazingly fantastic type of human being imaginable; parents who just don't care.... and, really, the list goes on. come to think about it, there are parents whose style i cannot even begin to describe! so with observations like this and a new generation so easily bruised like peaches, i am left disillusioned about my own capability and, more importantly, fortitude in bringing up a sensible human being. is it really possible?

according to the psychologist Braumundi who did a research in 1967 exploring the link between parenting styles and the effects these styles have on children, parenting is usually characterized by 4 important dimensions: 

• disciplinary strategies
• warmth and nurturance
• communication styles
• expectations of maturity and control

according to their approach to these 4 dimensions, parents usually display 1 of 3 different parenting styles: authoritative, authoritarian or permissive. the research was supplemented by Maccoby & Martin in 1983 to include a 4th parenting style called uninvolved parenting. 

• authoritarian parenting: this is the 'because i said so' style of parenting where parents set the rules and children are just expected to follow without explanation. failure to follow would usually result in punishment.
• authoritative parenting: as in authoritarian parenting, parents set rules for children but are more democratic. they are more responsive to children and are more supportive than punitive. 
• permissive parenting: this is the 'i'm a friend, not just a parent' style of parenting. as the name suggest, parents are more indulgent of children's behaviour as they have low expectations of the children's maturity level. they rarely discipline and punish children.
• uninvolved parenting: parents have low demands, responsiveness and communication towards children.they are generally detached or completely neglect their children.

these 4 parenting styles seem to have been adopted as the basic guide to parenting, even in today's literature. research has shown that authoritative parents affect their children's levels of productivity, happiness and general well-being most positively compared to the others. authoritarian parents yield highly productive but unhappy children, permissive parents produce problematic and unhappy children while uninvolved parenting ranks the lowest where children are generally problematic, unhappy and unproductive. source.

from the research conducted, it's easy to see that the best way to raise a child is to adopt the authoritative parenting style. but, as with many other sociological undertakings, it is easier said than done. how do you know what rules are best and when to break them or whether they should be broken at all? how far can you negotiate with your child before it becomes unproductive or even counter-productive? if you don't punish them, how do you support them and still tell them they were wrong? these are all questions that have no definite answers. as the people around me say, parenting is trial and error.

natural parenting. well, not really. from xkcd

besides parenting styles, another thing that nags my brain is the debate on natural-parenting. it seems to be all the rage now as it rides on the wave of the organic, earth-friendly movement. new parents now turn their faces away from chemically-unsafe products and 'unnatural' child-rearing methods. in our horror of a quickly disintegrating earth (and moral society), we are 'going back to nature' by buying more organic products, returning to breastfeeding and baby-wearing, and more mothers are choosing to quit their careers to stay home and take care of the children. obviously, these are all great things; i agree that too much tv is bad for a child's cognitive development and that children should not be fed corn syrup at too early an age. but what concerns and nags at me is the sense of anxiety that natural parenting brings. it seems to me that parents are becoming increasingly paranoid about the 'threats of the big bad world', waxing lyrical on how 'i only want what's best for my baby', therefore becoming increasingly over-protective of their children. 

natural parenting advocates parents to be as close to their child as possible so that the child feels safe and secure. some go as far as allowing children to be breastfed until they are 3 years old or more as compared to the traditional weaning point of 2 years. its the whole 'keep your child feeling safe and secure' thing that really bugs me. i understand that the physiological benefits of breastfeeding are tremendous both for baby's physical and brain development as well as mother-child relationship bonding, and i agree that it should always be the first choice in feeding; however, i also believe in the concept of moving on, where the child learns to be independent and find security in himself. extending the child's lease on mommy security will only lead to the child learning about independence later than he should. it's like learning that there is no santa claus; the truth hurts but you need to know it in order to be a functioning human being. the same goes to protecting the child from harmful chemicals, barney, swear-words, and a world with no mommy and daddy. you can protect the child now, but sooner or later, they will need to know how to survive without your shield; in kindergarten, your child will know that tv is awesome even if you swear that he will never know the idiot box, and he will only proceed to find it somewhere else. sometimes i feel that it is not just the child that needs that security, but it is more for the parents. parents get too attached to their children and do not know how to let go because they no longer know who they are without their children. that is why i tell ariff and myself everyday, that we need to remember who we were before the baby came. we had a life before the baby and i hope we continue having it after the baby comes. it would be extremely sad to leave our lives now just because a squalling baby found its way into our arms one day. 

well, obviously my writing skills have turned to dust as there does not seem to be a chain of logic in this post. oh dear. but it is cathartic. i will continue chewing on parenting and remind myself that it is all about balance. balance and common sense. (see, even the conclusion has no conclusiveness).