Untitled Journal

I swear, it hurts. It has been over a month since I gave birth to a person. Somehow I still fail to forget about every single details that happened that day. Every tears and pain suffered is still fresh in my mind, I cringe whenever I recall it. I shut my eyes to remove that memory and hold Daisy tight to remind me that it was all worth it.

On Sunday after coming back from The Mines, I had the show. I had brownish discharges and I knew it was going to be soon. On Wednesday I decided not to go to the office. I felt cramps but it was mild so I could still move around like normal, only at that time this one had a rhythm. It started every 5,6 hours or so, and that night it became more frequent. It was like period pain and I could still bear it. I thought to myself, this can’t be labor.. I’ve heard all sort of horrific descriptions about the pain and labor can’t just be like period pains. I was up most of the time that night, sat my ass on a Swiss ball and move my hips around with it, doing the breathing. The midwife in UK told me it would ease the pain. At this point, Fakhrul and I could still have a conversation and a laugh in the middle of the contraction. We decided to go to the hospital at 5am, only to find out that after being poked down there by the nurses and my God did that hurt, that I’d only dilated 1.5cm. Sheesh, what a loser! Not even 2cm!

I had to wait until 9.30am in the labor room until my gynae came. I decided not to wait and went home since KPJ Specialist is just 5 minutes drive from home, I literally can see my house from one of its ward’s window. The contraction was getting stronger and I started to freak out. I threw my face in Fakhrul’s chest one time the contraction hit hard and as it went away, I looked at him and said, “Fakhrul..” And I paused. He smiled to me and said, “I forgive you.”

That second night I didn’t sleep at all. I was in labor and I knew it. I went to the toilet like God knows how many times to pee or discharge whatever I thought was coming out (not the baby), only that nothing came out. The Swiss ball didn’t do its magic this time and every time it happened felt like out of this world, and when one contraction was over, I was scared shitless about the next one coming up in few minutes. Yes, it felt like you were going to die. Yes, it felt like your waist down is going to part with your waist up. Yes, it felt like someone vacuumed sucked your stomach empty. Yes, it felt like all of those horrific things you heard people who went through it described. But I had to pull myself together, or I won’t be able to do this normally as I wanted to. Everytime I sobbed to cry, Fakhrul stopped me. Couldn’t get into that, or I’ll fall apart for it. I was so tired, so sleepless, hungry and thirsty and in the worst physical pain of my life. Couldn’t get any more uncomfortable than that.

When they poked me that time when I reached hospital, it didn’t hurt as much. The nurse said with a smile, “7 cm..”. Oh, that’s why. I can’t believe how long I bore the pain, but at least it was in a comfort of home. I didn’t care, I wanted epidural. If that what it felt every 5 minutes, I didn’t dare find out what it would feel like for contractions every 2 or 1 minute. They said it was too late. I insisted. I would rant like a child if that what it takes for them stick that damn needle on my back. And so I did, and so they did. I didn’t care what people are going to say or judge me all you want. I have felt the pain of labor.

Coincidentally, our office was appointed as architects for refurbishment project of that hospital and there was a site meeting that day. So Abah was around and Fakhrul went off with him to walk around the building and see the clients as I got high on my epi waiting to be fully dilated. They told me they will have to tune down the epi when the baby was ready to be pushed out. I thought they were kidding, but they were not! They said otherwise I wouldn’t know how or when to push and the whole thing will be bad. After barely 2 hours happily being numb, I felt something. That contraction again and they’ve reduced my epi! It felt like you haven’t been to the toilet in ages and you were about to give a poo of the year. I told the nurse that and my doctor came and she put on this plastic apron that made her look like a butcher, damn that was a scary moment.. it was time.

All I remember was that I wanted it over, couldn’t push any harder since I didn’t sleep that night. The pain was unbearable that at one point I thought I was already dead, but wasn’t. I screamed my lungs out and I felt sorry for the people waiting next to my room because they probably peed in their gowns hearing my horrific wails.

And then, there she was. Being surrounded by the nurses and then handed over to Fakhrul. I didn’t see her yet cos I still needed to get the placenta out and wait the doctor to fix down there. After everything was done, they handed her to me and breastfed her. They said the pain would go away when you see your baby’s face.. unfortunately for me, that was not the case. I’ve never felt so much pain in my life, all over my body. But I was glad she was healthy and I didn’t suffer any complications or such. It was all good.

Now all I have to do is forget everything that was painful and remember everything that was beautiful.

So there she is, a little person lying sleeping soundly on my bed that usually seem so small, now seem so big. It’s just so overwhelming. She was in me for almost 40 weeks, all I knew of her was from these scan pictures suggesting how she looked like and how much she loved to stretch her legs that sometimes one of her knee would stick out underneath my skin. And now just like in Coldplay song, her skin and bones turned into something beautiful. And I love her so.

Every middle of the night now I look forward to be woken up by her baby noises, so that I can hold her again. After feeding her, she would lay on my chest, lift her head up and look at me in the eyes until she falls asleep. And at that moment I got scared. Scared of something that might happen to her, or if I would raise her right or do all the right things. It’s a scary thought that with all the flaws in you as a human, you might screw something as perfect as this.

We named her Daisy Sybilla. She was 2.98kg when she came out and about 49cm. I’m sure she has grown a bit since then, but still all tiny to me. I had a normal delivery and labor was quite a traumatizing experience, I must say. The pain I suffered was really beyond what I expected and I couldn’t sleep the first few nights after giving birth to Daisy just recalling all that. Not to scare the expectant mothers out there as people might experience it differently. I don’t know, maybe I’m not so tolerable when it comes to pain – I mean, I cringe like a 6 year old whenever they need to take my blood.

Daisy so far hasn’t given a hard time taking care of her. I kept hearing about babies that cry for hours and hours without knowing what their problems are. She would only whimper, hardly cry, whenever she needs to be fed or changed. Any other time, she’ll just sleep and grow up, waiting for this boring age to phase out. Occasionally I watch her smiling in her sleep, observing her face and caressing her hair. I know its such a lame thing coming from myself to say, but what a beautiful baby she is. She has Fakhrul’s hair and pretty lashes, her skin is so fair she turns all red when she moves, she has long legs and long fingers, and the chubbiest cheeks. Life is suddenly complete. She’s all worth it. Worth the pain, the sleepless nights and the worries.

I now cannot live without her.

Dear friends.

Alhamdulillah, I have safely delivered a perfect baby girl on Thursday afternoon, 15th October this year. She weighed 2.98kg and inherits most of me. Now life as I knew it, has ended. It is more blissful and fulfilled.

I shall write again soon. Thank you all well wishers.

Dear baby.

I’m waiting for you taking your own sweet time.

Anytime now. Had a false alarm once, it was quite confusing. My feet looks like Doraemon’s, all swollen but that doesn’t stop me from roaming around my area. People kept expressing their amazement that I’m still able to bring around this big tummy all over the place, but the truth is, I’d go crazy if I stay at home. I mean, really. What would you have me do to rest? Eat, sleep, watch tv? That will exhaust me even more.

I miss driving. I miss being in control on the road, honking crazy drivers and deciding which lane to be in. Fakhrul’s too polite. Always giving ways that a 10 minutes journey could take 30. Good for him. I just hope he won’t be that civilized on the way to the hospital.

At this stage of pregnancy, I think we’re playing a waiting game. Life goes on as usual, but still, quite unusually. I haven’t thought about UK much since our routine started after Raya. Our stuff also arrived, so we pretty much have our life back. We rearranged the studio at the office and work has been coming in like mad, and even with my big feet, I still go to work everyday. It feels better this time, working for your own practice. It feels like suddenly you have prospects, you’re not just there to pay the bills, you’re actually owning your own future. I’m so glad I had a bit of experience from UK, I know what to do now. The parents can give it a rest, Abah can play more golf and Mama can … er, well. She loves working, but I think she gets less headache since we’re here.

My baby’s kicking less, I could see her knee or something sticking out sometime and that’s about it. Maybe she’s running out of space now that she’s making me gain almost 1kg every week. Thank God I only have few more weeks, cos if I have months to go I’m sure I’ll blow out of proportion. I’m so thankful I still have my waist, I don’t look pregnant from the back Fakhrul said. And also that I didn’t develop any stretch marks, and that my muscles are strong enough to hold up my bulging tummy neatly. Being pregnant is not so scary after all.. err, so far. Maybe I might have a different stories when the labor comes. Am just hoping its not so terrifying.

Gotta run to the bank now. Well, can’t really run. Gotta rush. Hope everyone had a good Raya as I did. Till next time!

Salam Aidilfitri !

Maaf Zahir Batin.

Love,

S & F

I’m happier now. Don’t want to trade this for anything else. And I hope likewise for you.

Thank you everyone.

So, I guess I’m home.

I’m not sure whether I should’ve said that because in my heart, home is still back in UK. Where I have my own place and my own kitchen to run, my own bed to sleep on and custody of the remote control. The day we drove ourselves to the airport, somehow the weather was beautiful. Every landscape along the M25 motorway seemed prettier. The trees seemed greener and the sky was bluer. The endless roadworks and traffic of M25 that usually drove me mad somehow calmed me down. I didn’t mind being delayed, if it meant I get to stay longer on that land. But we arrived so right on time anyway, and off we flew to Malaysia.

The first few days were the hardest. I was sulking the whole time in my old bedroom where I grew up as a teenager but this time with a husband by my side and a baby counting her days in me. My awesome two bedroom flat has been reduced to this one double bedroom. I usually get off jet lag easily in 2 or 3 days but this time it feels like forever. As if my body refuse to get on Malaysian time and my mind still wondering off UK time. Most of the nights I stayed up were spent staring at the ceiling wondering what I would do now back there or watched bad tv. Like seriously bad Malaysian dramas with almost the same plot to each other and actresses overdone their make ups. Or empty talk shows that is nothing but entertainment and bad jokes.

The road pisses me off the most. I’ll never get out of a junction in my life again, ever. I’ll never walk one of those crossings safely because apparently they’re invisible and will never see a one liner que again. And what’s so depressing is that I have to degrade myself and become uncivilized like them to survive all that.

There were times I almost thought of flying back to UK. At least while I’m still less than 35 weeks. My limit was tested the day we surveyed places for my childbirth. Some of the places I went nearby that offers affordable packages looked so horrible. Even as privates, people were overflowing those places with at least one hour waiting time. There was one place where I saw the labour room’s door looked like a door to the toilet, without self opened door and God knows what it looks like inside. ISO standard? Forget it. I couldn’t believe I didn’t foresee all these before and regretted allowing my emotions lead my decisions of having my baby here. So what if I was to be alone back in UK when I first have my baby? After a tiring day of all that, I let my guard down and sobbed in the car with Fakhrul looking helplessly on the driver’s seat. I felt more sorry for him. I made him quit his job and left his wonderful practice, ensuring him that he could give a better happiness here with my family and friends by my side. Only that I was wronged by my own assumption and selfishness for being pregnant.

Have I became so spoilt with having to lived in a developed country that failed to accept the ways of my very own people? Did I helped designed too many hospitals that I’ve become this fussy? I hope 6 years wasn’t that long enough to make me this shallow that I couldn’t see the beauty of my own place and people. I hope I can still function amongst them and most importantly, find the happiness that I dreamed to have here.

Fakhrul said that this is not a small transition, that’s why I’m like this and it takes time. He said I’ve been jet lagged too long I haven’t seen all my best friends and eat all the good food. He said again that I’ve been sleeping all day all week and too fearsome of the current swine flu situation I haven’t been out much to have bits of giggle with friends I missed. That it has been raining too much I can’t enjoy the sun, although seriously, would I enjoy Malaysian sun? That I miss the loves of my life, Adam and Maryam who are yet to come back for good too, soon in few days. That the internet has been too slow even he could lose his mind. That I’ve been too tired and weak being in 32 weeks.

I hope he’s right. For my sake, I hope he’s right. I pray that he’s right.

This will be my last post from Oxford, a place I’ve called home for the last six years.

It gets harder emotionally as my days are numbered and my things packed in boxes. It became real when they loaded my life in a lorry and I opened the door to my room, with only suitcases for journey home tomorrow. It seemed like only yesterday I arrived, a young, naive 21 year old full of hopes and dreams, only to realized today that those dreams came true and more.

So, I will journey home. I will go back to Malaysia. A place where Mawi has a world and Siti Nurhaliza rules. Where Astro and AirAsia are the only choices and TMnet broadband is slower than a snail. Where people follow Akademi Fantasia and those award shows. A place where I can’t find shoes for my big ass feet and where I have to spend more on European brands to find my size. Where it feels like one of those hot summer days you can’t bear, only that it’ll be all year round. Oh my gosh, apologies if I sound like some arrogant prick but that never really thought about home that way before. Just being pessimistic to be optimistic.

Truthfully my heart is full of fears rather than excitement, anxiety rather than happiness. Don’t know why. I tried to think again of those times when we made this decision and be sure that this is what we wanted. But really, I can’t stay on. I just couldn’t bear seeing everyone moving on and I’m all stuck here with my foreign visa and God-knows-what future. It’’s hard to make it when you always feel like a second class citizen. Oh, you’re not eligible for this because you’re not from UK. Sorry, you’re not entitled to this benefit because you have no source to public funds. I swear if I hear this phrase one more time…

Is this doubt?

I don’t think so. I think this is just an emotional phase letting go. Letting go of a place that’s grown so much in you and all the things that you’ve got used to. Letting go being the one who knows it all about it and degrading it to someone who doesn’t know at all.

Life will be starting over hopefully for a better.

I really do have sympathies for my mother now. I mean, I love her with all my heart but I love her more now that my pregnancy has really starting to hit me hard. For the first time in my life, I feel so disabled. My walks are slower and I have to catch my breath everytime after coming up the stairs. I struggle picking up something that I dropped on the floor and my back hurts like crazy when I have to stand doing normal chores.

If you knew me, everything I am now is the opposite of me. I really am not the kind of girl who takes comfort lying on the sofa watching boring TV. My mind would constantly instruct my body to do something, jumping around in the house making noises with my steps from the wooden floors and every old ladies in the house would complain how ungraceful I was as a female. I mean, can’t do something quietly. Certainly walked faster than Fakhrul he always had to catch up. Now I feel like he’s pulling my hand. My sleeps are so uncomfortable as ever. Can’t cuddle the way I used to because the baby will start kicking like crazy if I sleep on my side. All I could do was stare at ceiling before dozing off and wake up again in the middle of the night wanting to pee three drops of urine. When I freaked out finding out I was knocked up, I thought to myself, well, how hard can it be? Juno does it. Hah, what a naive thought.

But thankfully I know some other women had it worse. I mean, I never really suffered until now. Even so, I’m all complaining over little things. Maybe I’m a late bloomer. I never craved or vomit anything in early months nor wanting to do crazy things. Now all I wanted to smell was a box of Aeriel washing detergent I need to put it by my bed so I can inhale the great smell anytime I feel like it. Geez, my baby must like things clean…

So, the sonographer told me it’s a girl. And man, I hope he’s right. In UK, you only get the luxury of scanning three times in a pregnancy. Its not like I can walk in some private clinics to see my baby over and over again to be definate about the sex. Cos soon after I found out, I was all filling up the space with girly stuffs that if a boy comes out, I just think he might have to wear a skirt. Don’t ask me about my instict, cos I have none. At first I wanted a boy, truthfully. Maybe because I’ve always thought that a male would survive the world easier. There’s also this fear of having a conflict between mother and daughter, having to experience one myself.

But then I realize, as my belly tightens and grow with the baby kicking inside, that I already love her. I am emotional just by looking down at my bump and even more when it starts to move by itself, almost dropping the TV remote that I put on it. It’s amazing how you could fall in love with someone you haven’t even met yet, getting her only the best things you can afford and put her needs first before yours.

Truly, now I just can’t wait to meet her, although I can faint thinking about labour.