Maybe Baby

2011 - The year I want to erase most of

2012-01-12T16:18:00.005+08:00

2011 was a crazy year with more bad stuff happening than good, and with lessons learned the hard way. Firstly, the GOOD would be that it was Oliver's first year and we enjoyed every single second spent with him, watching him grow and learn and respond more and more to us. A baby's first year is so fascinating to observe and be involved in and if I had a change to go through that again, I'd be the first to sign on. Now, for the bad... so much to talk about on that...

This was the year that Ezzat and I had the most arguments. In the past, when people say,"Arguments make a relationship stronger, that's the silver lining", I would roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders in indifference, envisioning a perfect relationship with my other half where it was 'argument-free'. But now, I wholeheartedly agree with the statement. Through all these arguments that we had, we actually learned more about each other - what makes him tick, what he's uncomfortable with discussing, how he does things etc. Once information has been received, I can then digest it and decide what the next step is to prevent any more of such argument topics arising again. Easier said than done, of course.

Our arguments were never ever about Oliver though. With both of us being first-time parents, it was more like 'let's learn from each other', as opposed to 'no, we must do it MY way'. I suppose with matters concerning someone as precious as Oliver, we have naturally adopted a 'we're in this together' stance. As a couple, however, we're still in the process of getting that same mindset ingrained in our heads.

Generally, we had arguments on the same old topics - family, methods of doing things, friends, and yes, money. Money is the devil. Sometimes, I feel so inadequate because I'm not working and contributing to the household, and I'd link this up with many other things that aren't going too well for me. In turn, I get rather depressed and moody and I just feel like nothing will remedy anything ever again. Until the next day when a brand new emotion overwhelms me, for instance, I NEED to clean the bathroom until it sparkles, the OCD part of me takes over and its the same cycle with different factors.

As for the methods of doing things part, I daresay I'm not one to command that things are done my way, I believe more in 'if you want something done at all, do it yourself, if possible'. The problem that I have with his methods of doing things is not so much in the actions being done (or not) but rather in the intention behind it. A little example to iron out the creases caused by the questions you probably have now in your head while reading this: when he tells a person something, but the reason behind why he does it is not because he feels it is the right thing to do, but rather just for the sake of doing it. The intention is not right. Something like that... you get the picture. Right now, I'm just thinking that I will try to let most things slide and not bother me as long as it does not directly affect me or Oliver, and only bring it up as an issue if it drags out for too long.

2011 was a year where things that were fuzzy were made clear again. After having Oliver and cohabiting for a good year-plus, I kinda felt that I had no direction in the relationship. Sure, we were engaged with a ring on my finger to remind me of it, sure, we were definitely talking of a future together as man and wife, but that hadn't happened yet. Nothing was concrete or set in stone yet and that made me nervous sometimes because I need for things to be clear and stable and secure. So in early October when we officially signed the papers, I could finally set that boulder that had been sitting on my shoulders aside and breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, a little wedding celebration would be nice but we'll talk about that later.

Another thing that was cleared up was the issue of having the right people in his life. I had no hand at all in his final decision to toss some people out of his life, but admittedly I did my best to help him re-analyze the relationships that he shared with them. Certain people are only good for you at a specific period of time in life and once it is time to grow up, it is beneficial to rearrange people and things around you. It is alright to keep childhood toys in your closet when you're an adult to reminisce but it is not the same with people. The chinese have a saying "近朱者赤，近墨者黑", meaning if one stays near vermilion he'll get stained red, and if he stays near ink he'll be stained black. This saying refers to people around you who will influence you either positively or negatively. I am glad that he realized that he can no longer afford to waste time with people who haven't matured or found a direction in their life, it shows he has himself grown as a person and together we believe life will be a lot better for us in the next 30-40 years :)

A charade that happened late in 2011 - emotions ran high and people acted childishly and inappropriately. However I am not describing myself because, whatever I had done, I do not regret at all because I meant every single word that I typed or said, and I stand by my thoughts and beliefs because they are justified in every sense of the word. The chapters in this charade that played out by other people directly or indirectly involved or even not involved at all only proved to further substantiate all I have been saying. Allow me to throw in another chinese phrase to sum up what I meant - 公道自在人心. A silver lining in this was that I saw that my husband stood up for and trusted me and I believe he will continue to do so in the future. I think this point is enough to erase all the negativity from the arguments that we had regarding this issue and I thank him. We have moved one step closer to the definition of a "strong marriage", perhaps if we're lucky we could get there before we lie six feet under. Moving on...

The entire 2011 was punctuated by tensions and stress caused by the fact that we were anxious to move out to a place of our own. This thought never left my mind for a single day in all 365 days and in the early days of this new year, we finally managed to get our asses out and on our own. I will continue this move as a separate post ;)

On the plus side of 2011, we watched so many movies I think we covered the careers of a lot of the Hollywood bigwigs - Bruce Willis, Christopher Walken, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp, Al Pacino, just to name a few. There were good movies and awful movies and movies that made us go "huh? what the hell was that about?". We also discovered a couple of great great great TV series together - Modern Family, Dexter, Fringe, 30 Rock. Not exactly spanking new series, but hey, when something is that good, better late than never, better late than never.

I found myself reconnecting with many old friends and connecting with new ones as well. It's always a warm and fuzzy to feel the sincerity emanating from a friend's words of consolation or greeting or even a jibe or two and I've had the pleasure of realizing in 2011 that I have really awesome friends who are the coolest cats in the world - mature, responsible, respectful, thoughtful and caring. In the words of Freddie Mercury, "I thank you all".

Ciao 2011, I mostly hated you to the core, I never wanna see you ever again, and I spit on you from the bottom of my throat. Aloha 2012, let's see if you can show me brighter days and sweeter smelling posies, and let's hope I won't have to do to you what I did to your predecessor come Auld Lang Syne day in about 12 months.

Review: The Rum Diary (2011)

2011-11-15T21:41:00.003+08:00

Sunday was date night for Ezzat and me as we handed baby Oliver over to the safe hands (but impatient) hands of my mother and went to town to watch a movie IN THE CINEMA! *gasp*

Being HUGE Johnny Depp fans (yes, both of us are huge fans, with Ezzat even mentioning once that he'd leave me for Johnny if he would have him, I said likewise), we would get excited every time a JD movie was out. Unfortunately, we missed the latest Pirates instalment back in May due to our hesitation at leaving baby at home while we were out. The trailer for Rum Diary was pretty cool and it looked interesting enough. Well, guess what -- all the minutely interesting and cool bits were in the trailer.

The movie started with an awesome song - "Volare" by Dean Martin, one of my favourites. Next scene, cut to Johnny waking up in his thrashed up hotel room in Puerto Rico after a boozy night. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair tousled. The movie was set in 1960, a time when the fashion was to die for, men wore cool hats, and it seemed like the awesomest thing in the world to have a cigarette hanging from your mouth. I was totally looking forward to the rest of the movie based on what I was already seeing on the screen. Cut to half an hour later, I decided that this was NOT a good movie. And further still, about an hour and a half later (an hour and a half TOO long), I felt that I had gotten nothing out of the movie. There was not much of a storyline, no climax, none of those moments that make you go "wow!", and Johnny Depp actually looked his age in it! (He's 49, by the way). Disappointment to the max. However, would I say it was a waste of money? Honestly, I have a pre-disposed bias already and if it had been any other actor other than JD, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Robert Downey Jr, Sean Penn, and John Cusack in it, I would shout out loud "Hell yeah! A sad waste of money!). But no, because it was Johnny Depp, I see it as a kind of "fan fee". Terrible or not, it is the price to pay for being a fan.

A Fresh Start

2011-10-20T17:23:00.003+08:00

A NEW BEGINNING & FRESH START!

My blog is now much lighter after a few posts have been deleted. This reflects Ezzat and my new states of mind as we embark with a clean slate on the journey that is life from now on, after successfully unloading baggage and garbage from the past. If you do not clear out the unwanted items, you will find it harder to include new ones. We have washed out the grime, filth and dirt that were present in our lives and it really is exhilarating to see how clean everything is now.

Here's to happiness for all my readers! <3

Fiery = Scary?

2011-10-15T20:21:00.002+08:00

When I was in Primary school, my classmates were really afraid of calling my home because they were afraid that my mum would answer and they'd have to exchange a couple of words with her. They were scared of her. Sure, she looks cold when she doesn't smile, her words can be rather sharp(even in short phrases) and her stare is deadly, like a viper's, BUT she's not all that bad. My friends didn't know that of course, they just naturally assumed the worst from what they saw on a day to day basis.

Back home, my family members (uncles, aunts, grandmother) all feel that my mother is the dragon empress of the house - she doesn't back down easily, forcefully defends her family whether they're right or wrong, isn't afraid to speak her mind and she never shies away from a confrontation. Now that I'm a mum and wife myself, and am old enough to differentiate right from wrong, my family members are starting to whisper behind my back that I am becoming like her. What's wrong with that though? One should always have the courage to stand up to those who bully them and/or their loved ones, regardless of who the bullies are. When you are right and have justice on your side, nothing can beat you down as long as you stand firm.

I've been told I'm fiery. I admit I can be fiery and biting with my words. I'm not a physically strong and active person and thus, words are the only weapons I have. The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Fortunately for me, I have been blessed with the gift of words. I always know just the right word(s) to use to cut someone down succinctly and to the point, and to use them for good as well, for instance, to comfort or assure someone. Some might think that this fiery nature is a bane, but I like to think of it as a positive trait. When used right, I can definitely be sure that I will never ever be trodden on or bullied by ANYONE, and I can also be certain that my family won't be either.

But does fiery necessarily equate to being scary? I feel that only the ones who don't have the courage to face up to their nemesis or any truths in their lives would find that a fiery person is scary. These people fearful of being exposed of their hidden negative traits and all that they probably have been so desperate to keep under wraps.

This fire that burns? I'm sure as hell keeping it, because the way I see it, the world is full of bullshitters and hypocrites who would go out of their way to bring gloom and discord into others' lives and I'm gonna breathe fire on them until they burn to a crisp.

Cheaters: Let's analyze

2011-10-12T14:44:00.004+08:00

Here's my point of view on the cheaters. By cheaters, I mean the relationship types, and not the examination cheater types. When it comes to cheating, there are two fundamentals involved : in view of the relationship and in view of the person's wellbeing and happiness. Both seem to be one and the same but actually they are different, let me proceed to expatiate.

Relationship - Cheating is a betray of trust between two people in a relationship. "TWO PEOPLE", it has nothing to do with anyone else and people who feel they are involved too should retract their noses out of it. Looking at it exclusively only upon the TWO people involved in an EXCLUSIVE relationship, if one person has strayed and placed his/her heart on someone else, that is a betrayal of trust to the other party in the relationship. There is no wrong or right in relationship matters, but of course and naturally, the person who has been betrayed would feel that he/she has been wronged and might choose to act out in preposterous and irrational ways. This is human nature and most of the times cannot be controlled.

Personally - In terms of one's happiness, if he/she has crossed paths with another whom he/she feels is THE ONE, and the person who would bring him/her happiness, that is fantastic news. Sometimes, unfortunately, he/she is already in a relationship and because of this, that person might choose to give up this new person whom he/she is sure is his/her one true love, and in the process by giving up true love and settling for what he/she already has, finds a mundane and unexciting life ahead. Between the couple, cheating amounts to a betrayal of one's trust to the other, but by choosing to not be swayed by another and staying with what one already has is also a form of cheating and betrayal and that is to themselves. The person is forfeiting the opportunity for true happiness in life and THAT is a disfavor to themselves.

I personally feel that everyone should not be blamed for cheating ONCE in their lives. Yes, sorry to the one they cheated on but would you rather be cheated on and given the opportunity to find one who truly loves you, or stay with the one who doesnt really love you? Take note that I am referring to people who cheat only ONCE in their lives.

Whenever this topic is brought up, there is bound to be self-righteous assholes out there who feel that cheating is outright wrong and immoral without giving it any further analyzing. Most of the time, these are the people who have yet to falter themselves, who have yet to find themselves in the predicament where they have to choose.

When is cheating wrong? It is when "serial cheaters" do it. Serial cheaters are much like serial killers, except they don't murder (duh!) but cheat more than twice. I have heard much of such people and have come to an analysis about them. They seem egoistic and overly-confident of themselves outwardly, thus attracting members of the opposite sex to them - their "prey" - but in actual fact, these people have self-esteem problems that are a crux to their choices of girl/boyfriends - they tend to pick just anyone who comes and flatters/fawn on them. Such flattering is the exact medicine to cure their deflated esteem and ego, as it makes them feel, quite simply, good. Extreme cases of serial cheating might also indicate a personality disorder, where promiscuity is a symptom. Whatever it is, serial cheaters should not be forgiven or condoned as many broken hearts are left in their wake, and they do not cheat for their lifetime happiness or for true love, but to temporarily satisfy their ego and lust.

Another situation where cheating is wrong is when the cheater goes back to the one he/she has cheated on after breaking their heart to try to weasel their way back. These people usually think very highly of themselves, and feel that they have the charm needed to get the one they have cheated on to forgive them easily. By doing this, it could also prove to themselves that they are very much loved and needed by the one whose heart they have just broken. THIS makes them feel good about themselves. In reality, it shows how selfish they are. My husband was cheated on by his first girlfriend and apparently she tried to get back with him afterwards. He declined -- good choice :)

That concludes my analysis of cheaters. Some would agree with me, others might beg to differ. But to each his own.

F.A.S.H.I.O.N.:: Glasses

2011-09-23T20:42:00.003+08:00

Well, glasses are in. Most fashionable people who wear it these days don't even need them, that is sometimes what fashion means -- redundancy. Simply because it looks good. Don't rejoice so soon though, if you own a rim-less pair, you're still pathetic and sad. The dark-framed ones are the ones that are in fashion right now. However, if it frames your eyes and nothing else, you are still sad and pathetic. Get the huge ones with a funky frame.

Speaking of spectacles being fashionable, I came across some photos of party-goers in a club having a helluva fantastic time. The taint in this beautiful scene is the fact that there was this one geek who had slapped on make-up (red blush, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow and pink gloss), but forgot to take her spectacles OFF!!! Yeuck! Be considerate and consider the environment and how you're making it ugly, puh-leeze. It just doesn't make sense -- you already took ALL that time and effort to put on the make-up, how's about another 5 minutes to stick the contact lenses in them ugly eyes?

And that concludes fashion advice from moi <3

18-Month Anniversary

2011-07-13T16:35:00.011+08:00

July 8 2011, Friday was the 18th-month anniversary of our relationship and we chose to spend the entire day with little Oliver in town -- eating, shopping, people watch. Firstly we headed down to Great World City for lunch at Kuishin-bo, then it was off to Kinokuniya to grab the copy of "Oliver Who Would Not Sleep" for Oliver (we had reserved it a month ago and it had just arrived), then to Mothercare at Paragon to buy the Barcelona Zoo Family highchair that was on a discounted price (a steal!), after which we went to Coffee Club for tea and lastly to Gastronomica for my favourite cupcakes, a little 'gift' from Ezzat to celebrate our day. A day well spent, and thankfully for me, it was a day that we spent indoors cos it was scorching out there!

我寶貝的名字

2011-07-09T00:25:00.000+08:00

我在幾年前迷上了中國歷史上的一位英雄，三國時代中的吳國大都督~周瑜。當時我簡直是著了迷，每個禮拜都到書局去尋找關於三國與周瑜這傳奇人物的書籍。

在當時，我已決定我會為我的兒子取名為「瑾瑜」-- 「瑾」是周瑜的另外一個名字「周公瑾」，而「瑜」，不用多解釋了吧。
我希望這名字不僅僅讓我向我最敬佩的英雄敬禮，也希望我兒子能吸取周瑜這偉大精英的一點點精髓，作個了不起的人 :)

Tiffany Ring

2011-07-04T21:35:00.003+08:00

Once upon a time, there was a girl who told her mum that she'd only marry the guy who proposed with a TIffany and Co ring. This girl grew up and she got engaged to a guy who proposed with a elegant and simple diamond ring. This girl was satisfied. And happy

It really doesn't matter what you proclaim when you're young, because very few people get what they imagine. In the end, the ring doesn't really matter, as long as you GET ring and you get the "on bended knee" treatment. I was the girl who proclaimed materialism with the Tiffany and Co ring. Yes, I do LOVE Tiffany and Co but I know that it would probably take a couple of years before Ezzat can get me a diamond ring from there. After all, you are paying for the branding and not so much the materials. Nevertheless, when he is able to afford Tiffany and Co (and hopefully Cartier and Van Cleef and Harry Winston), I'll make sure I get something from there and fulfill my dream of owning a Tiffany and Co diamond ring. In the meantime, I just gotta be patient and content with what I have because at the end of the day for us young people, it's not the inanimate item that shows the l.o.v.e., it's the person.

Discreet much?

2011-07-01T20:43:00.004+08:00

There are some couples out there who you absolutely CANNOT imagine having sex. And then there are others, like Brad and Angelina, who you are most certain are doing it every single day from the day they met, because they're so goddamned right for each other and because they're just smokin'!
I just learned recently that there's this couple I know who WERE doing it, but everyone around them thought (or rather, assumed) that they were't having sex. I have to applaud them for keeping it so discreet and under wraps. I'm not saying to shout it to the world that you're humping (obviously), but they should think about why their close friends would assume that they're not doing it. One friend said it's because they're too young, another said it's because the girl is not "sexy" and then there's another reason and that is because they don't look like a couple to begin with (people felt that the guy was too good for the girl who looks absolutely plain and like a 12-year-old kid) and did not seem very loving. Looking at this girl, if I were a dude, I wouldn't even wanna touch her, much less do her. So perhaps it's not that they did a good job at keeping it discreet, but that they just didn't seem very sexual to begin with. Come to think of it, is that a good thing? To not be seen as being sexual? Personally, I wouldn't like that at all because I always feel that as a woman, one should possess some sort of sexual and womanly charm with which to attract the opposite sex. Not in the pornstar sort of way, but just right and with a tiny bit of sophistication attached. If I were this girl, I would be really upset because if so many others don't think you're hot enough to be sexual and touchy-feely with, then what are the odds that you'll ever find another person (because they're now broken up) who'd want to procreate with you?

Ahhhh... Sacrifices for Love

2011-06-28T19:19:00.005+08:00

"And I would do anything for love, but I won't do that"

There's a part of my life last year (2010) that I have chosen to keep from most of my friends. To some, perhaps it can be seen as a misstep taken for the sake of love, but to me, it was a HUGE misstep that completely desecrated my personal sense of righteousness and principles. I have never been a religious person, and the religion that has been closest to my heart by far is Buddhism because my parents are buddhists and I used to visit temples with them, but honestly I was faaaar from devout. To put it quite simply, I'm a person who doesn't believe in a higher power telling me what to do and I do not like to be ordained by a rigid set of rules that are supposed to be "passed down by God" - Whoever God is. Blasphemous words these are to the religious out there, but because I am NOT religious, I am merely speaking what I feel.

So last year, my beau and I were about to be married and unbeknownst to me, I could choose NOT to convert to his religion (Islam). Silly me actually went for a few classes and ultimately was converted after 3 short lessons. *Lightning & Thunder* I FEEL SO ASHAMED SHARING THIS!! But it did happen and I cannot deny it. Without any malice to believers of Islam, I did not connect with any of the philosophies that I had learned in the classes and I was just all giddy with love and the thought of doing this for the ONE I love. My parents opposed my shortgun conversion and I too did not agree with my decision but I thought that this was the only way that we could be married.

A couple of weeks later, I realized that a Muslim and non-muslim can actually be married under the civil law. No problem at all, no complications - You have a choice. I did not know that and I blamed my beau for not helping me to find out if this was an option. Blahblahblah A huge row ensued Blahblahblah Tears were shed Blahblahblah. I was determined to 'annul' my conversion. I went back to the place where I took the first step to the biggest mistake of my life and I undid what was done. There, the dude who was witness to my religious "undoing" actually told me when everything was done -- "Well, just to inform you, because you renounced Islam, you'll go to hell", with an embarrassed smile he "informed" me, and I replied "Oh, okay" and in my heart I thought "Who fucking cares? I'm probably gonna end up there anyway", along with everyone else in the world (because heaven does not exist). I felt good because I had reclaimed my dignity and principles, and finally righted the wrong that I did. It's a personal choice and I don't believe that by NOT being of the same religion as the person you love means you love this person any less. Religion is personal and subjective and takes a lot of faith. Faith is something I've always been lacking in and religion is a commitment I am unwilling to take.

If I continued discussing religion right now I could go on and on and on. And thus, to avoid that and unwanted conflicts with the religious peeps of the world, I end this post. I have shared with you the one thing I was ashamed of doing in the year 2010. I apologize to myself for being so weak and collapsing to stress from certain parties involved in that misstep. I promise myself not to make such a mistake again and may I always have the courage to say no.

:: Photo ::

2011-06-19T16:52:00.005+08:00

This is the photo we took at Butter Factory last Wednesday. Before the drinking started and before the intense sweat fest started.

I came across this other photo of Ezzat and myself taken at my brother's 21st bday celebration last year at Timbre

I had on a pair of grey contacts and was about 4kg heavier. He - same weird expression

Other People's Blogs...

2011-06-19T15:23:00.002+08:00

Other People's Blogs...

Hilarious!

Alright, I'm punishing myself. I choose to peruse other blogs and in the end I fight tooth and nail to keep my vomit in. I'm sure not every blog is gag-worthy, it depends on who the blog belongs to. Testament to that point, the blogs I've been reading recently belong to the group of people in my life whom I'd like to classify as the "Befriend them? Over my dead body" group. But because of my other half, I've gotten to know that they exist.

I can never understand why people can document every single detail of their lives on the World Wide Web for all to see --- "I took a dump today at the toilet of Takashimaya after lunch"/"So we walked together to Cathay and queued for the movie tickets"/"My dog bit me 5cm above my knee". Seriously, who cares? There is such thing as a journal, you know. The kind you keep behind key and lock next to your bed in a drawer. Then again, am I being outright mean here? I mean, I DID choose to read the blogs of these pathetic peeps. I'm such a masochist I laugh at myself.

There are the other kinds of blogs as well that are littered with -- "My baby and I had a huge argument today"/"Dear gave me a necklace from SooKee for our anniversary"/"My sweet bf sent me home after the movie"/"Dear and I went for a movie where we sat 4 rows from the back, 3 seats from the left"/"Dear and I had sex today... twice!" Alright, I jest. I made the last two up. I personally would never explicitly display my feelings for my loved one on my blog. It's much too mushy and over-revealing. Friends who know me would probably express concern if they saw that I had written such bone-chilling content... wherever! Be it in my blog or on facebook or even in my private journal. Sometimes, things are best expressed through actions, and not words.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have the archived posts from 2007 to 2011 to complete reading...:P

My short night at Butter Factory

2011-06-16T16:02:00.002+08:00

My dear cousin Patrina invited me to the Flo Rida event at Sentosa and the afterparty at Butter Factory last night. Because I couldn't make it early for the event itself, Ezzat and me met her at Butter Factory for the afterparty instead at 11.30. I absolutely love going to night spots with people with VIP access AND with people who know how to party and hence, I love going with Patrina. She's been my drinking buddy since we were adolescents, drinking at family events -- we've had every alcohol available to mankind (okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating) and we've shared many a good drunk moments together. Talk about closeness, how much closer can two people get without having sex than getting drunk together - True Bliss! It was her good pal Kenneth's birthday as well and so when we managed to squeeze our way in into the VIP room, it was a HUUUGE bottle of Moet with this firework embellishment thing attached to it (pardon my lack of "clubber terms", cos I'm not one). I had three glasses and I was tipsy. Remember, people, I AM a seasoned drinker. But champagne is a killer beverage, not to be taken lightly or underestimated. Trina pointed out Flo Rida to us and I just thought he was goddamned lame to be wearing sunglasses in a dark club and emo-ing in a corner by himself. Not a celebrity, in my books. And it was so freaking packed, people could hardly move and dance. I felt uncomfortable and hot (in a bad way), by 1.30, Ezzat and I were outta there. So much for a night out on the town! The next time I decide to visit a club, I'd love to go again with Patrina and Kenneth, and Ezzat of course, but perhaps on a night where there ISN'T a so-called celebrity in the same room and where we could chill and enjoy watching people make a fool of themselves ;) and drink (OF COURSE!). By the way, Oliver was a fantastic little boy at home with my mum, he drank his milk, practiced standing up in his cot and then was rocked to sleep. Ahhhhh....

The TWO photos we took while in Butter will be posted up later.

Cheers. (*burp)

A girl? A boy?

2011-06-13T15:23:00.005+08:00

This is me when I was 8 months pregnant with Oliver.

Before we found out the gender of the baby, I was so sure that I would be having a little girl. Not that I was preferential to girls or anything but I had this gut feeling that I was carrying a girl. I remember lying on the clinic table doing my scan when the doctor suddenly asked if I wanted to know the sex of the baby. I was just so sure he would say "It's a girl", but instead he blurted out "99% it's a boy". Boy, was I shocked. Honestly, personally, my idea of a perfect family was having a boy first then a girl, because I myself had always wished I had a older brother to watch over me, be my guardian, in a way. So was I happy that I had a boy? Hell yeah! I just don't know if I'll be lucky enough to have a girl after Oliver. If I pop out another boy, and then ANOTHER boy, I'll faint.

Pregnancy + Post-pregnancy Diaries I

2011-06-05T15:29:00.005+08:00

Well, Oliver is 6 months old already! I'd love to say that time really flies, but I honestly felt the full brunt of the 6 months, day after day, hour after hour. However, now that he is half a year old, I'm afraid that the time from now on will go *swoosh-ing* away and soon he won't be adorable anymore.

I recall the many worries during my time of pregnancy, as well as the many worries that plagued me constantly after he was born, and then I ask myself "Was it all worth it? Would I do it again?" Hell yeah!

Worry Wart --
The two lines appeared on the pregnancy test kit almost instantly. I was expecting a 4-5 minute wait before any results would turn up but it was like Pee-Flush-*Bam!*-You're pregnant. So Ezzat was waiting for me to return to the room with the results but when I took to long he came to the loo and I just told him to go see for himself. Ohhhh, this little recollection of that particular moment gives me goosebumps. Even as I lay in bed that night, the reality of it all had yet to really sink in, there was a 50-50 feeling that it could be a false positive. Nevertheless, I cried. I cried because I was frightened and did not know what to do next, and I knew that my life would forever be altered.

The first worry that surfaced in my long road to motherhood came the following week when we were vacationing in Malaysia. From the day I knew I was pregnant I stopped drinking my favorites - alcohol and coffee (and tea), during the first four months. So during this whole time I was in a sleepy daze through most of it and lost quite a bit of weight. When we were in Malaysia, I started spotting *ahem* down there. My worry was that something was wrong, perhaps a miscarriage? This worry followed me all thru to mid-second-trimester. I would feel like the baby wasn't moving that much and think "Oh no, something's wrong", or if I bled just a teeny-weeny bit I'd think "Oh no, what's that? Something's wrong" or if I felt unusually tired and lethargic I'd think, yep, you guessed it "Something's wrong!" For 6 months I was afraid that I was going to lose the baby. I memorized all the signs of a possible miscarriage and monitored myself. It was worry worry worry anxiety anxiety anxiety all through the 6 months.

Then when I entered the final trimester, from 7 months onwards, I had pushed the "miscarriage" worry away and along came a new one - Would I go into premature labor?

I read about all the signs of a possible premature labor: Why it happens, what to do when it does, how to prevent it. I'd tell Ezzat almost everyday of this concern of mine and he would always patiently calm me down and tell me it won't happen. I suspect even my mother thought I was going crazy. Eventually, when I carried the baby into the official "Full Term", I totally breathed a sigh of relief. BUT, now I had another two questions on my mind: When will I FINALLY give birth? And, at the same time, (contradicting myself) What if I miss being pregnant after the baby is out?

It was on to researching how to prevent a delay in the ETA of baby. Foods to eat to induce labor, things to do to induce labor etc. Oliver was due to be born on the 13th of December and my biggest nightmare was that I would go into labor during the Christmas week 10 days from then! *faints* I tried half of the methods mothers typically use to induce labor and lo-and-behold! Oliver came 10 days earlier.

These were the concerns I had to endure while pregnant that affected the baby directly, but of course there were also other worries that I had.

Weight Issues:
I lost a lot of weight in the first 4-5 months of my pregnancy. It wasn't that I had morning sickness and couldn't keep the food in, but more like I just did not have much of an appetite. But even so, I knew that I could NOT let my guard down. There was still many months to go and many things can happen. True enough, of the total 15kg that I gained in my entire pregnancy, much of it came in the final 3 months. That was the time that I ate the most. I had to have at least 2 sticks of ice-cream every day and cake. I ate so much cake it was frightening. I remember that during the early days of my pregnancy I had warned Ezzat that I might get all fat and ugly, and he might find me revolting blahblah. As usual, he would assure me that firstly I WILL NOT get fat and disgusting and that even if I did it was because I was pregnant. All throughout the pregnancy I would moan to him saying that "I'm fat!" and he'd reply "No, you're pregnant". Then when I did gain that 15 kilos, I worried that I would have a tough time losing it all after the baby came.

In the first week after Oliver was born, I'd lost 10kg. Didn't need to do anything, no exercise, no purposeful restraint of food intake, nothing. Zilch. I just automatically lost it all. On Valentine's Day, 2 and a half months after Oliver's birth, I'd lost all the 15kg and was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Right now, 6 months after Oliver's birth, I am 2 kg lighter than before I was pregnant. I like to attribute this to breastfeeding, but to tell the truth, I eat like a bird. Perhaps the breastfeeding theory is one that I can only confirm when I stop breastfeeding entirely. We'll see.

I also worried about stretch marks. My mum has horrible stretch marks on her tummy due to giving birth to my brother and me and my gynaecologist told me that it is hereditary. Thus, from month 2 of my pregnancy, I started splattering Cocoa Butter Body Butter from The Body Shop on my tummy religiously every night. Did it work? I don't seem to have any stretch mark-looking scar on my tummy so maybe it did.

I had an uneventful pregnancy, in general - No morning sickness, no large increase in weight, no waddling around like a penguin, no ugly "pregnant nose", no acne, no swollen ankles. I didn't even have to buy maternity wear! The months seemed to whizz past and looking back on that now, I feel like I didn't quite enjoy being pregnant enough. Oliver came so suddenly that I hardly had time to mourn the demise of my pregnancy period. One thing I did NOT see coming was the terrible terrible first night home after being discharged from the hospital. I did not read about this, and therefore it did not cross my mind enough for me to much less worry about it. I had to walk extremely gingerly and carefully when I came home because it was hurting down there where an incision was made for baby's big head to come through. That pain was all the pain I was thinking about. That night, after I had my dinner in bed, I was suddenly struck by waves and waves of excruciating pain in my abdomen. It was as if there were people in there sticking knives in my abdomen walls and twisting it. At the same time, the same abdomen walls felt like they were squeezing themselves real tight and releasing them again, it was a repeated motion. I felt I was going to die, this pain was much worse than labor pains! I kept telling Ezzat "I'm dying, I'm dying", and he was stricken with the painful decision to laugh at me or to be concerned and sympathetic. Laugh, because I kept covering my face with my hands (it's my usual practice when I'm in pain, don't ask me why) and he thought that action was hilarious. It lasted 5 to 6 hours and I was so sleepy and tired from the excitement of the previous two days that I fell asleep through the pain.

Those were my worries during the pregnancy. Now that baby is out, whoa! more worries! I'll continue on that another day. I'm worried that Oliver is going to have his leg stuck in between the 'grills' of his baby cot.

Reason for this name

2011-05-21T18:46:00.004+08:00

Why have I named my blog babyreillaz? Well, Reillaz is the name I gave my very first character on World of Warcraft when I started playing it about 5 years ago. It was a Human Warrior (f) and I thought of the name myself, no rolling a random name, no searching online for medieval names. It's easy to remember and sounds good too. My brother's character's name is Lexandor. Not bad, I suppose. So I'm guessing the penchant to give good sounding names runs in the family? I had long wanted to name my firstborn son Lucius. To me, this was an ancient, magnificent-sounding name with an essence of grandeur and importance. Unfortunately, the father of my firstborn son didn't quite fancy it. Thus, after much consideration and other names (we thought of naming our boy 'Silas'), we agreed on "Oliver", after top celebrity chef Jamie Oliver. It sounds boyish, is easy to remember and classy. Good enough for me. If I had a daughter, I'd name her Leila. Regardless of what ANYBODY says, agree or otherwise, I'd still name her Leila. SO there.

Will write something up on our Penang trip as soon as I have the spare time.

Oliver's Passport!

2011-04-17T13:29:00.005+08:00

Last week, I submitted an online application to have Oliver's passport made. We brought him to get his passport photo taken and here it is!

So how we got it taken was his father held him up in midair in front of the white background and we just hoped for a good expression. But we got this. Oh well...

The reason we want to get his passport done is because this being the first year I'll be celebrating Mother's Day on the other side of the fence, as well as the year I'll turn 25 (yikes!!!) (My birthday is in the same week as Mother's Day), I'm planning a little trip overseas with the two boys in my life. To make things even sweeter is of course the bribe money from the government (double yay!). At the same time, I'm going to surprise my grandmother in Penang, as she hasn't met Oliver yet. I can't wait to hear her exclaim how skinny I am now ;P

We'll be collecting the completed product tomorrow and then I was planning to head down to Kinokuniya to get my hands on "Wild Swans".

My Daily, Busy, Life

2011-04-17T13:08:00.002+08:00

Stay-at-home mums don't have it easy. Sure, the fathers go out there into the world and work hard in the workplace to earn money but think about it -- they meet new people, they interact with the ones they already know, they get to dress in cool togs, they finish their work and come home with an excuse to not do anything in the house (because they've been working, y'see) etc. You get my drift. A stay-at-home mum, however, has a neverending load of chores to do at home. There is never such a thing as "well, I'm done! Time to put my feet up" Especially when there's a young baby involved. My daily schedule these days since Oliver was born has been, minus the first month of confinement where despite being forbidden by both my mum and grandma NOT to shower, I didn't have to prepare my own meals, do laundry, do dishes, lift heavy loads or walk the dogs. NOW, this is how is goes at home -- I get up at 5 in he morning to change Oliver's diaper and feed him while the rest of the household is snoring away, all through the night I don't get proper sleep because Oliver's daddy is an active sleeper and hence I gotta be on hand to fend his arm off, Oliver awakes again at 8 in the morning for a short playtime, Ezzat entertains him for a while before heading off to work so I take over, I get him back to sleep at 1030 meaning I get to zzz again too. Then, we both get up at noon, I play with him a bit more on the bed, trying at the same time to get my eyes to open (having huge eyes makes it even more difficult to get them to open, trust me), I place him in the cot while I brush my teeth, I prepare his bath water, I give him his bath, I powder and dress him up all the time fending off his kicks, after which I clear the bathroom of his tub and knick-knacks. If I'm lucky and there's someone else in the house like my dad, I'll hand Oliver over to him and take a shower myself, otherwise, if I'm alone in the house, I'll have to wait until someone gets home to shower because I can't hear Oliver's cries from inside the toilet and even if I could, and then what? Rush out filled with soap suds? I carry him or place him in his pram in the kitchen so that I can fix my lunch, or merely something to munch on, then when the preparation is done, I gotta find a way to eat it while holding Oliver. Sometimes he stays in his cot alone, entertaining himself, and during these times, I will do the laundry (for 3 and a half people), vacuum, boil water, do dishes, dust the bed. If he's having a fussy day then I'll have to hold him the entire time either breastfeeding him or trying to get him to sleep. If I'm lucky and he does sleep AND I'm successful in placing him in his cot while he is sleeping, I can go surf the net for a bit or blog (right now my dad's got him). Busy busy busy. And the worst thing is that there is ALWAYS something to be done. There is ALWAYS laundry, floor seems to ALWAYS be dirty, bed is ALWAYS messy, table is ALWAYS messy, there ALWAYS will be dishes in the sink, and ALWAYS not enough drinking water. Such is my life now.

SO imagine my fury when I was confronted some weeks ago being asked if I had created a fake facebook account to stalk Ezzat's retard of an ex-gf. The same weakly, cowardly and desperate one who buys people to be her friend with gifts and favors and uses her cronies to deal with things that go wrong in her life. I had previously sent her a message asking if she had sent me old email correspondence between her and Ezzat and she did not even have the guts to reply me. Instead, she got her friend to ask if I was the one behind the false facebook account. Morons and morons, I do not even have time to blow-dry my hair these days, what makes you think I have the time to actually do something so idiotic? My guess is all of you planned and executed this by yourselves, having no life and no love. Awww, how sad and pathetic. Have I mentioned yet -- when I DO complete the chores at home and gotten Oliver all happy and contented, I am in the midst of trying to master kokuro, reading The Count of Monte Cristo again, planning my birthday trip and doing research on my baby's upcoming milestones. Sometimes, I have to walk my dogs as well. Come on, are you dumb or are you dumb?

I guess there is no cure for weak and cowardly, just as there is no cure for stupid either. =D

Bonding with Baby...

2011-04-16T15:57:00.003+08:00

... and now it seems like he's stuck on me.

We couldn't bring Oliver home for the first two weeks of his life because he had G6PD and had to remain in the hospital to be monitored. I can't even count how many times we asked the nurses again and again "Is there really no way we can take him back?" We said we'd take him to the hospital every single day to have his jaundice level checked and still we couldn't take him home. Seeing our desperation, the head nurse suggested we go check out the MacDonald Room they had at KKH - a place they had where, at $45 a night, we could check in to one of their rooms and stay overnight, a convenience for parents whose children were warded in the hospital for medical treatments. For new mums like myself, this would mean that I could go to the nursery every 2-3 hours to breastfeed Oliver. In the end, we felt it was better if we just went to the hospital to see Oliver every day for the next two weeks. This was at my mum's behest that I stay home because I needed to recover during the dreaded confinement period.

Saying goodbye to Oliver *sob*

So for the next two weeks, Ezzat and myself went to the hospital every day. I had to make sure I pumped my breastmilk out prior to the visits to hand over to the nurses so that they could feed him as much breast milk as possible and I also had to be dressed in nursing friendly attire to facilitate my breastfeeding. When the nurse pushed Oliver out in his little cot to hand him to me, my heart would fill with happiness because I so desperately missed him every day. I was afraid that this void in his life would be detrimental to him later on - the first two weeks NOT being with his parents 24/7. But his godfather Timothy's response to this worry of mine made me feel slightly better :"How much do YOU remember in your first two weeks of life?" True, I suppose.

Oliver's first week at the hospital

It's now approximately 19 weeks since he was born and I am soooo attached to him, the same way he has become attached to me. In the past 2 weeks or so, he has developed this pattern where he would cry every time I leave the room. Just two days ago, I handed him over to his father so that I could go take a shower and after the door was shut behind me, I heard him yelling his lungs off. This has made Ezzat a little sad, but at the same time, he also cannot help but comment that life is going to be difficult for me from now on because Oliver needs me around all the time. How am I supposed to do stuff? Honestly, when he was just born, because I had Ezzat around to share the load of taking care of him most of the time then, I didn't feel very attached or bonded to Oliver. That made me feel a little guilty because hey, isn't the mummy supposed to bond with the baby instantly? Well I didn't really. I remember when Oliver was inconsolable at 3 in the morning, I would gasp aloud in exasperation and wonder "What have I gotten myself into?", followed by the thought 'Am I a bad mother for thinking that?' It seemed like every time Oliver cried I couldn't help him at all because I didn't quite know how. Then his father would hold him and slowly he'd calm down and sleep. He just kept getting more and more agitated when I held him. This was me and Oliver in the first 6 weeks of his life.

Now, it's a whole different ballgame. I read him like a book - I know his hunger cues, his sleepy look, his 'I-wanna-play' positions and his 'I'm-bored-and-agitated' states. It's not any easier taking care of him but it's definitely more fun because him and I are now truly Mother-and-Son. In fact, lately, I feel a little bored whenever he's sound asleep. Last night, I even told Ezzat that I feel empty when Oliver's asleep because I miss looking into his eyes and playing with him. Is that weird?

There'd be times when I'd leave Oliver with my parents to have dinner with Ezzat outside. And those times when I'm walking out the door and down the road to our destination, I can't help but feel like turning around and bringing Oliver with us. Or I'd call my dad or mum a couple of times in the first half an hour that we'd left the house, worried that Oliver wasn't feeling okay. Separation Anxiety isn't just for the little one, sometimes it hits harder for the older one, especially when the older one is a little kooky. So Oliver just turned 19 weeks old and all this time he's been sleeping with us on our bed, either sandwiched between Ezzat and me, or next to me on the other side. It's probably time to get him accustomed to sleeping in his own cot, but I will miss waking up in the morning and seeing him smile at me with those shiny Ezzat-esque eyes. It'll definitely be a tough job getting him to sleep through the night in his own cot if we don't start now, seeing how it's already a very very late start, but I already miss having him next to me. Dilemma dilemma. Ezzat's already telling me that I'm not tough enough on him and that he's already spoiled. But look at that face, how CAN you be tough on THAT face?

Joey's Birthday: more photos

2011-04-15T16:16:00.005+08:00

Additional photos taken from my mother's iPhone

My brother's birthday

2011-04-07T16:00:00.005+08:00

My brother Joey's birthday is on the 19th of March, and he turned 22 this year. His favorite place of ALL time to celebrate his birthday is The Line at the Shangri-La Hotel. 4 years ago he celebrated his birthday there with family, this year he invited his group of close pals and his family (me, Ezzat, Oliver and my mother).

Joey and our mum

We arrived on location first before everyone else because we came from home. My mum joined us 20 minutes later from work. Fortunately, we managed to get Oliver to sleep in his pram rather early on so that we could go start feasting. As usual, Ezzat got his platter of cheese first (we went there last year for my birthday and he totally whacked the "secret" cheese counter), I tried the blue cheese by accident and it was DISGUSTING!!! I had my full fill of the sashimi, shrimp and salad.

Joey and his friends came soon after and everyone started dispersing for the food! I have to say though, the standard seems to have dropped a little there. And when I approached the staff saying that it was my brother's birthday, all we got was a teeny slice of chocolate cake.

At the end of the night, we went home super full and with Ezzat complaining of being sleepy due to being stuffed while Joey went for after-dinner drinks with his friends. Good night's sleep following that!

My teeny-weeny collection of shoes

2011-04-07T14:52:00.006+08:00

My mother's collection of shoes required an entire shoe cabinet to hold. Yes, 'cabinet', a solid teak wood piece with 4 layers of shelves and two doors, not 'shoe rack'. She used to go to this obscure boutique in Shaw Towers every week to scout the latest addition(s) and she could buy 3-4 pairs of $2-300 shoes at a time. And I used to envy her. Unfortunately, our shoe sizes were different and so I had not the pleasure of borrowing her beautiful shoes every now and then. But, my mum bought me my own little, 'mini-her' collection of designer shoes. The two best things about my collection was that I never paid a single cent for them and I got to pick them out myself. A word of advice from someone who knows (me) :: Designer shoes may seem extravagant to some but it is money well spent as these can last you years at a time. After all, quality will cost you. My collection consisted of less than 10 pairs (compared to her 100 pairs) but I made sure they were worth it. I now pay tribute to my collection of shoes - past (may they rest in peace) and present.

P.A.S.T.
I got my first pair of designer shoes back when I was in secondary 2 (14 years old) from my mother as a birthday gift. I remember the moment I got them I called my good friend Evangeline and shared my joy with her. They were a pair of PRADA black bowler shoes with red and white trimmings (no picture) that cost $500. I fell in love. From then on, they were the only pair of shoes other than my white Converse school shoes I would wear. They were comfy as hell and its streamlined cutting made my feet look small and nimble. I had to retire them 6 years later when the soles decided to separate from the rest of the body of the shoe and the cobbler told me with sad eyes that they were not salvageable. RIP

My second pair of designer shoes showed me once again that expensive shoes are worth buying because they are not only comfortable and trendy but last a long time as well. MARC JACOBS leather Mary Janes in a nude color (heels). These were my 'feminine' shoes and I most certainly felt like a girly-girl when I wore them. Slightly cheaper than the PRADAs but it lasted longer than the bowler shoes. I only recently retired them 2 years ago when both the straps came off. RIP

P.R.E.S.E.N.T.
Because these are in my present, I have pictures.

YSL leather platform sandals

This is the first pair of high heels that I chose for my mother to buy me. We walked into the yVES SAINT LAURENT boutique in Paragon and she had her eye on a pair of purple heels and I had my eye on this pair. I wanted a pair of heels that weren't all that feminine, but rather funky with an edge that would go perfectly with jeans. This was it. $600 and I had them. Because of the platform height in front under the toes, this was a pair that was easy to walk in. I once walked all the way from Marina Square to Fullerton Hotel in these.

Michael Kors leather heels

My mum and I were out doing some CNY shopping one year and we stopped my OnPedder in Ngee Ann City - The haven for top designer shoes and accessories. Costly, they were, yes but oh-so-orgasmic. Then of course, they have the SUPER AWESOME Christian Loboutin boutique across from them now. These are my most expensive pair of shoes, cashing in at $700. Once again, they are so goddamned comfortable and the leather is so soft.

Steve Madden heels

SO glad that this popular American decided to park on our shores. Their collection of shoes, both flats and heels, are amazing and affordable. I got these at a discounted price of $40. Imagine that! I actually had a pair of heels that were less than $200. There's a slight price to pay for this price of course, as compared to my designer heels, this one bites a little. The synthetic leather is too tough and after walking a while in these blisters will start to form. So I usually keep them for short distances. Pretty though, eh?

Converse maroon sneakers

What more can I say about these? Super comfortable, super casual, super cool. I now have my eye on a mini pair for my son in the exact same color.

These were my go-to ballerina flats for when I was pregnant and had to store my heels. My mum handed them down to me when I said I required a pair of flats that were fashionable. My Westie Cleo had her chompers on one side of these once but fortunately I stopped her in time.

I had the good fortune of having my mum giving me permission to buy my gorgeous designer shoes and my dad his generosity to actually pay for them. Perhaps one day my husband could buy me my next pair. I have my eye on Christian Loboutin ;)

Next fashion post: My bags!

Valentine's Day

2011-03-30T00:21:00.006+08:00

I used to hate Valentine's Day. I would walk down Orchard Rd, look at all the lovey-dovey couples clinging onto each other as if their lives depended on it and curse under my breath "Let's see how long you two last". Then I found love myself... And I still am not a fan of Valentine's Day. Sure, it's a day for your special someone to express his/her admiration or love to you, but it's also a day for over-commercialization and over-priced chocolates and roses! Say no to commercialization! I told Ezzat this thought of mine and he breathed a sigh of relief, saying "So I don't have to get you anything for V-day next year?" I shot him a look and said "No, no, I shall try to get myself to appreciate it, so continue doing what you're doing" ...

Last year, Valentine's Day was on the first day of CNY, with many overbearing mothers/fathers disrupting many couples' special day by insisting that they be present at so-and-so relative's house for the parents to show them off: "Oh, my Linda is going to graduate this year"/"My Bryan only got 6 As for his Os!" -- cue vomit into mouth. Fortunately for me and my brother, we never had such a problem because my parents were always cool about us taking off on our own on CNY. So far, we've only 'taken off' into World of Warcraft. So last year, as usual, my family went to wish our grandmother a Happy New Year at my cousin's house in the East and Ezzat came to join me. He surprised me with his new haircut and a bouquet of roses -- cue 'awwwww...'

When he presented me with the roses however, I said "awww so sweet.. what's with the haircut?" I got used to the haircut very quickly after. Later in the afternoon, he went off with his family and I got the time to go get him a customized cake :)

This year, Valentine's Day fell on the second week of February (duuuuh!) and about 11 days after the first day of CNY. Things were a lot different this year - we had a new son and going out as a couple meant there were arrangements to be made. I got my mum to babysit for us and.... yep, you know what? That was about it. So we went out, the both of us, on a Monday night, to Clarke Quay - first a simple dinner at Liang Court, then onward to Highlanders bar where Ezzat wanted to try this rare whisky (which I declined to have, because the smell was overwhelming!) and then after that, we hopped on down to Timbre at Substation. Ezzat's pal Jaeson and his beautiful Japanese girlfriend Mio joined us later in the night. My mum called to rush us to get home at 11pm though, and this was when I thought to myself "Yes, things truly had changed". We got home just after midnight.

The day before Valentine's Day, on the Sunday, I woke up to find that Ezzat had gone out. When he came back, he brought me 3 stalks of red roses to celebrate Valentine's Day. I was touched. I truly thought that having a baby would diminish any thought of celebrating V-Day this year. The next morning on the 14th of February, I woke up to find a bouquet of the prettiest posies lying next to me on the pillow. I asked Ezzat "who are these from?" and he said "I don't know, I think there's a card though, why don't you read it?" So I did read it and lo-and-behold! -- It was written in a familiar handwriting -- Ezzat's. The three stalks of roses I received the previous day were just decoys! How sneaky... I love love love flowers and couldn't help staring at them the entire day and the following week.

The night we two spent together outside on Valentine's Day itself was relatively simple and uneventful, it was what happened at home that was worthy of mention. We got home, reclaimed parenting duties of our Oliver and settled into our nightwear in preparation of bedtime (Oliver's bedtime being priority of course). It may be good to inform readers at this point of time that I am a huge fan of scented candles. The way it flickers so radiantly whilst at the same time emitting a delightful scent -- Ah, what bliss! So I lit these two berries-scented tealight candles on my nightstand, which was next to the cot, and got to work changing Oliver's diaper. I suddenly felt this warm sensation on my bum and figured I was standing too close to the candles, I turned around and pushed the candles further away from me and returned to what I was doing. Strange though, because the warm sensation was still apparent. I turned around and found myself on fire! Like literally on fire! Ezzat was standing next to me facing Oliver who was lying in the cot and I told him I was on fire. He panicked like I did and started to pat the flames. VERY unfortunately, a piece of soot flew high into the air, dipped and fell into the cot onto poor little Oliver's right knee. "Everything happened in slow motion" Ezzat later said. My poor baby screwed his face up and as his face turned bright red, his screams echoed the room. We immediately tried to placate him and soon enough his cries subsided. There was a slight burn on the spot where the soot landed and we both felt sooooo bad. Fortunately, throughout the entire time he had this minor injury, that was the only time Oliver cried. He's our brave little boy! The next day we brought him to the doctor's who prescribed some baby painkiller syrup and sent us on our way - "It will heal on its own".

Since then, I made sure that no candles are to be lit near Oliver's cot. Hmmm... I wonder what the surprise will be for next Valentine's ?

Sigh Regrets over my treasured writings

2011-03-27T13:50:00.000+08:00

Never let a man get in the way of your work, or in this case, your works. Last year, I wrote a series of short stories on my previous blog and personally, I found them to be good. Granted, I have always felt that my writing is good (cue *humble* laugh and awkward chuckle - ahahahaha, hmmmm...) but these ones came from the heart, they came from real life experiences and they came from an inner energy that was dying to be free from the shell of anger, from which a waft of despise was seeping through. Quite simply, I was writing about someone I despise but in a disguised manner. Yes, it was disguised under prose, the most beautiful and poetic disguise ever. My friends liked it, I liked it and I felt relieved after having written it. HOWEVER, a month or so after this series of short stories were published on my blog, my boyfriend said that they were not in good taste because they painted this particular person in a bad light. An argument ensued, and true to my personal way of displaying displeasure and anger, I deleted those stories and now I am left with naught. Of those stories, I have nothing left except memories. I could try to recreate those stories but they will be a far cry from the original, because just like movies, the original is always better. Lesson learnt:: Never ever allow a man to persuade/suggest/tell you what to do with your work. It's yours and you should never compromise anything for anyone. *thumps heart and loud sigh*

Baby's First Day

2011-03-13T15:58:00.000+08:00

4th Dec 2011 -- the beginning of a new way of life: with baby Oliver.

I awoke at the crack of dawn. For the first time in a long time, my slumber was not interrupted by dreams cos I was so tired from the exhausting 24 hours or so I just went through. The night before, upon my "checking in" at the maternity ward, the nurse had already taken my order for my meals. I chose the 'confinement' menu, eager to have my first taste of what exactly confinement food was like. Breakfast was just the usual stuff, eggs, ham, juice etc, and it was served at 8am. At around 745, they brought my little angel in, not surprisingly, he was sound asleep.

I immediately texted Ezzat to tell him that I was awake and that Oliver was with me, he said he was up too and that he'll make his way down. He arrived at around 930, and my parents came slightly later. We were so amazed by this little wrinkly creature we had with us, kept holding him, gazing at him, calling his name, taking photos, we were so reluctant when the nurse came to take him back to the nursery for a check-up with the baby doctor.

Lunchtime soon rolled around and the food was actually pretty good! I'd always had my reservations about hospital food. Ting Min came to visit after lunch and we chatted for a bit before my grandma came. Evangeline, who happened to be working at KKH, dropped by as well. Time seemed to pass quickly (couldn't decide if it was because time spent with Oliver passes more quickly than normal, or because of the visitors I had).

I had to lay down the entire day on the semi-hardasrocks hospital bed because I was not supposed to walk around so much. Not that I want to, of course, the episiotomy wound I had acquired during delivery made it difficult for me to sit, pee and even stand, much less walk too much. Well, blame it on my baby's ginormous head :P And I felt so disgusting and sticky having been unable to shower in more than a day, what with the blood and goo that I had on me from the delivery, not to mention the unwashed hair! Oh woe wee-wee, I can't even start describing how it was like not being able to wash my hair the next 7 days with my eagle-eye of a mum watching me during the confinement period. Fortunately, I had Ezzat to help ease my discomforts as much as they were 'ease-able' :D

The day I gave birth... part II

2011-03-10T14:37:00.000+08:00

Continuing on...

After spending about 10 minutes in my gynae's office, he decided that I should definitely head down and make myself comfortable in the delivery suite. One phone call later, I found myself being wheeled through a labyrinth of corridors before arriving at the delivery suite where all I had to do was report my name and I got myself a room! Inside, I changed into this coral colored robe and was told to go use the loo first cos I wouldn't be able to get up once I lay down.

My doctor came to check up on me and do preliminaries - stick a needle up the top of my left hand (ouch!!!), take some blood for tests and have the nurse hook me up to this machine that monitors the baby's heartbeat. Continuing on...

After spending about 10 minutes in my gynae's office, he decided that I should definitely head down and make myself comfortable in the delivery suite. One phone call later, I found myself being wheeled through a labyrinth of corridors before arriving at the delivery suite where all I had to do was report my name and I got myself a room! Inside, I changed into this coral colored robe and was told to go use the loo first cos I wouldn't be able to get up once I lay down.

My doctor came to check up on me and do preliminaries - stick a needle up the top of my left hand to attach to the drip(ouch!!!), take some blood for tests and have the nurse hook me up to this machine that monitors the baby's heartbeat. AND... Most importantly -- The Epidural Talk. Dr Wee asked if I wanted an epidural. I was slightly skeptical because just before he came in, I was on the phone with my grandma in Penang and she kept shooting down the idea of me getting an epidural cos apparently it gives you long-term backaches, and at that point of time the contractions weren't all that bad. But I said yeah, I'll need an epidural. Doc said that it'll be best to get it done as soon as possible so that I can avoid the painful contractions that would come later. So it was all arranged and the anesthesia technician would come in later to give me it. Woo-hoo!

Ezzat was given this "Husband's Pass" for full access in and out of the delivery suite because no one else was allowed in.

The delivery room was pleasant enough -- there was a television overlooking the bed, a large comfy sofa beside the bed for the expectant daddy and a washroom. The machines on my right in the picture are used to monitor the baby's heartbeat as well as my blood pressure to make sure that I wouldn't be losing too much blood at the end of the whole procedure.

As you can see, I was totally stuck on my bed. I couldn't even move, cos I wasn't allowed to. Now, thinking back on that day and looking at these photos, I wonder if perhaps I should have put on some make-up before I left the house. Hmmmmm?

Well, Ezzat was all dressed up in his pink shirt cos he was prepared to go to work if I wasn't really in labor that day after the doctor's appointment but of course, this meant that he'd have to stay put and wait this out together with me.

It wasn't long before my 'Epidural Man' came in and the two nurses assigned to my room assisted him in jabbing me in the spine. First, they invited Ezzat out to wait for them to be done. * Gasp * I was left alone!!! The guy told me to sit straight up in a 90-degree angle with my legs dangling off the bed and to hold my hair up. ONe of the nurses was there to assist me and the anesthesia guy kept talking to me to distract me. Before he stuck the needle in, I turned to the nurse who was helping me sit up straight and asked "Can you hold my hand please?" I hate needles. The jab stung (duh!) and it felt like a looooong-drawn injection -- towards the end of it it felt cold. A tube was attached to my spine now! How odd. The cool thing about this is that I was given this 'pushy' thing that went 'thuck!' when you pressed it and it was to have more of the painkiller into my system to numb the lower half of my body. The pain just melted away... Ahhhh... Bliss... But now I had three tubes stuck to me, making my movement even more impaired.

The hours passed really slowly and as the day progressed I could feel more and more of the contractions as they increased in frequency and intensity despite the epidural. So my right thumb went 'thuck! thuck!' a couple of times to relieve me of the pain. When I was admitted into the delivery suite, I had dilated 4cm but by 4.30pm I had only progressed to 6cm. This seemed to us to be rather long and for a while we were dismayed :(
Suddenly though, when the nurse came in to check on my dilation progress again at around 5.30pm, I had gone all the way to 8cm and she said it wouldn't be long before I could start pushing. Yikes!

At 7.15pm the nurse said I should start practicing my pushing. Yes, 'practicing'... how odd... So I tried and I'll tell you, it's an action that imitates pooping. So I was going to literally "poop" this baby out. Dr Wee came in about half an hour later and by then, we could see baby's head crowning already -- meaning, you could see the top of his head. "Would you like me to get you a mirror so that you can see this?" the nurse asked. I said no thanks. I know me, and if I knew what was going on down there, I wouldn't be able to carry on. From 7.15pm onwards I was pushing and pushing at 2-3 minute intervals. Exhausting! But the nurse said that for a first-timer, I was a "good pusher". Apparently, my pushing was placing us in good time and the baby should be out very very soon. After several tiring BIG pushes, baby's head was out, the tough part was over *phew*. Just a few more less tiring pushes and I felt baby's body empty itself out of me -- it was an incredibly weird feeling and it left me feeling hollow inside. Baby Oliver was out! Check-in time: 2044 hours.

The nurses used this suction thing to suck the sticky stuff out of Oliver's mouth and he let out a cry. That was truly an amazing sound, I looked at Ezzat and just went "Wow!". Incredible feeling ! Before they did anything else, the nurse placed him on my chest for "skin time" and to let him start his first breastfeeding session. He was still all bloody and sticky.

All this time, Dr Wee was still hard at work trying to get my placenta to come out. There was some trouble with that because apparently it came out in little bits and pieces rather than in one big piece. After half and hour, it seemed like only a partial part of my placenta had extracted itself and so that doctor said I would have to monitor that the next few weeks. So much for my perfect birth.

The nurse wrapped Oliver up and handed him over to his daddy to hold :)

Ezzat kept making all these super excited expressions and sounds. Even the doctor and the nurses thought he was funny hahaha. He kept telling me afterwards that Oliver was "perfect", well I thought he looked slightly puffy but yeah, he was and still is perfect. After that long day where I couldn't eat or drink anything besides water, all I could think of was a cool cup of Coke from Macdonald's and I called my brother and told him to help me get one from downstairs, he said "mummy says you can't drink that" so I said "don't tell her" and he replies "she's next to me!" Apparently they were in Chor Han's car on their way to visit me in the hospital. Dang! The entire month of confinement begins... booooo...:(

A middle-aged nurse came in to help me with the post-birth procedures after Dr Wee and the nurse (Catherine) who was there all the way through the labor process said their congratulations and punched out. She helped me off the bed that I was stuck to for close to 9 hours while Ezzat entertained our son. The minute I stepped onto the floor, I felt queasy and she immediately handed me a bag to puke into. Guess this is a common side effect huh? The bed was soaked in blood, and that made me queasy again but I didn't have anything else to puke. We made our way to the maternity ward on the 8th floor. It was very classy-looking with warm lights and good air-conditioning. However, I felt very warm because I was burning a fever post-epidural. A common side effect, I was told. When we arrived at the ward, the baby was pushed into the nursery and me into the room. My mum, brother, Edlyn and Chor Han were there already (my dad was there earlier but had left), Joey said I looked very bloated (Wow, thanks). Weihao was stuck downstairs because the god-damned security fella wouldn't allow him to come up.

Ezzat was eager to stay with me there in the hospital that night but it wasn't allowed for security reasons (only for Class A individual room patients -- Class A for my next one!) so he left at around midnight. He later told me that he couldn't sleep the whole night because he was so excited. I tried to sleep too but couldn't for a while despite my fatigue. This random thought hit me at around 1 in the morning -- Gosh, I wasn't pregnant anymore, how surreal is that?

And another thing, I'm a mum now... Wow...:D

The day I gave birth... part I

2011-03-09T16:09:00.000+08:00

The day before Oliver came into the world, I went for lunch with my good pal Ting Min. When I made a pitstop at Starbucks, the barista asked "Are you pregnant?" Yes, this question one day before I actually gave birth to a full-term baby, go figure... Of course, to be fair, I was two weeks away from my due date, but 38 weeks pregnant nonetheless.

The couple of weeks prior to the day I went into labor, I had been complaining to my other half Ezzat that I was "tired of being pregnant" and that I was looking forward to giving birth and "can the baby come earlier?!?!" To aid me in my endeavor to have baby early, I did research on natural birth induction methods and I have to more or less attribute the timely arrival of 'lil bub to one of these methods -- which one is it? Do research and use your imagination ;). Despite this, I was still rather flustered when I found that I had lost my mucus plug late in the afternoon on the 2nd of Dec. I called Ezzat and said that it might be a sign of impending labor and my mum told me it might be a few days after. Because there was no pain (yet) I rested easy and continued my booooring day.

Past midnight and into the 3rd of Dec. I could not sleep a wink. The contractions started slow at about 1am and gradually increased in frequency over the next 2 hours. By 3am I couldn'teven lie down. Ezzat was snoring next to me and I was on all fours on the bed doing one of those breathing technique things (albeit 'Pamela-style'). It was excruciating but I had my doubts about whether or not those were the actual contractions because I'd heard about them "false contractions".

We had a previously scheduled appointment with my gynaecologist at 1030 the next morning and when Ezzat awoke at 9am, we both decided that we should take my hospital bag along with us to the hospital. At noon, I was in room 20 of the delivery suite at KKH, having already dilated 4cm -- "Your baby's birthday is going to be today!" said Dr Wee...

[to be continued]