Any other Sunday.

It was normal to think that it would be, any other Sunday. But 16 March wasn’t.

Mummy woke up to pee. Since my usually on-time period was a day late, I decided to prepare my sanitary pad. And oddly, mummy also decided to take out the pregnancy test kit daddy had bought for the previous month but didn’t get a chance to use as the period arrived just mins before daddy came home with the kit.

Mummy sat down on the toilet bowl, looked and there were no stains or spots. I must have contemplated if I should open up the pregnancy kit just in case it goes to waste. I must have also said a prayer. All these must have taken place at lightening speed otherwise the bladder would beat me to it.

Mummy must have felt pretty bold that Sunday morning for l tore that kit open and quickly glanced through the instructions. I must have done this at least four times in my entire life. But neither had much courage nor confidence to do so in the last three years; perhaps once or twice if l remember correctly.

So mummy did as the kit instructed and laid it to rest on the toilet counter. I watched the window on the kit as if it was the gate to my future. I kept comparing what I saw to the pictures on the kit, to make sure I interpreted the results correctly. Mummy wasn’t particularly an ace in experiments and science in school as you can guess.

I called for daddy; actually yelled for him. He, who was asleep throughout my experiment, joined me at our toilet counter. And together, we saw our future; in a tiny window on a nondescript pregnancy kit.

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Predictably, dear daddy needed to check the instructions on the kit just to make sure mummy was accurate in the interpretation. Like hello!

We hugged and hugged and laughed and hugged more.

That Sunday afternoon, in church, my heart overflowing with joy, I praised Him. Though it was just the beginning of the journey, I could see Him with us all the way.

Many Sundays later, sitting at my favourite spot at home; where I can see the word ‘hope’ hanging carefully on the TV and the beautiful clouds through the living room windows; mummy is feeling so blessed.

So blessed that I took this journey with Jesus. So blessed that He gave me the strength to trust Him. So blessed that I believed in Him and that He was more than sufficient. So blessed that I stopped condemning myself for my past and for not trying hard enough for you; like other mummies. So blessed that Daddy never rushed me or us. So blessed that this took time; time that may seem too long for others and even to me, at times. So blessed that I didn’t give up on Jesus or me or my body. Just so blessed. And so blessed to have you.

Another 15 more Sundays before you join me at my favorite spot at home. Love you baby boy.

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a Sunday morning.

I have tasked daddy to make breakfast so that I can lie in bed and watch you move in my belly. I see my belly somewhat shiver and move up and down. I wonder what you are doing in there, baby boy.

You are one active boy and mummy hasn’t quite figured out your schedule.
There are days where you are active all day long and then days, I hardly feel you till night comes.

I call you sometimes just to make sure you are okay and at times, you respond by moving and that makes me feel, so loved, by you. If I can add, you are a real champion for making your presence felt much sooner; at sixteen weeks or so.

Two days ago, we went for our 21st week gyne visit and Dr Kee showed us a 3D pic of you but it was distorted due to your activeness. You are doing mighty well; weighing almost 500g. The report from the fetal abnormality test was out and bless The Lord that He has made you wonderful and perfect.

We have less than 20 weeks to go before we meet for the first time. This is a date I am so looking forward to and I hope, you are too. Mummy will try to be as lady-like as possible and baby boy, pls be a gentleman.

I never knew I could like someone I have never met before. But boy, am l in love.

a different type of Monday.

The breeze from the fan is seducing me to sleep.
Praise music is whispering to me.
Story of a wonderful natural birth is putting hope in me.
His fluttery movements in my belly feels strangely magical.

I call out to him every now and then; to make sure he knows mummy is awake and just lazing on the bed.

I have had many Mondays in my life but none quite like this.

sometimes,

I feel like I had enough. I feel like I had done more than I should have. I feel like I can’t give any more and that I should not. I feel I should protect myself and I should detach.

Sometimes, I just want to run and not care. I want to scream at you to grow up; not in size or age excuse me. But in character.

But then I’ll hear a whisper; assuring me I am not giving more than I have or can. And I can only whisper back “help me Jesus.”

Why are families the hardest to love and care?

Especially when it comes in the form of a 19 year old. Sometimes, I am pushed to my limits and I want to snap and bite. Surprisingly, the very limited patience I have would choose to work overdrive and hardly any words escape me. But there have been times, I have let it all out and felt really bad afterwards.

I remember being 19 and yes there were exams, projects, stress, friends, issues, acne and etc etc. Sorry my life wasn’t perfect if you imagined it was. Neither did I have a village to cheer me on; just a handful of school mates/friends to get through a damn lousy day. And the funny thing is, challenges don’t run away when you turn twenty or thirty or ninety. I know because I have visited 2.

I didn’t have an elder sister to love or encourage me; to pray or look out for me. And here is a big truth in case you didn’t know – our parents were the same in 2000 and now in 2014.

If you will indeed face the truth, everything is the same. The difference is you and I.

I learnt to encourage myself, lift myself up when I fall, be independent and responsible. If I want something, I work for it. I try my best not to act like the whole world was against me though at times it definitely felt so. Yes I cried too. Yes I know frustration. But so what, this is life. Just live it.

Because if you don’t start now, you will never do. And you would have missed life.

For a start, you can start being responsible and I’m not talking about your studies because that is a given. You owe it to yourself to do your best in school or else you will live out the consequences. I’m talking about respecting my time. Be responsible to turn up at the time and place we both agreed to. You don’t own my time. I make time and take the effort to meet you and honestly, I don’t need to do all these if you would just pause and think. But I chose to. Likewise, it is time you choose to be responsible because now, it stinks.

I have walked away from family members to protect myself and because I have felt they didn’t deserve me. I don’t wish to walk away from you but if I have to, just to protect my heart, I will. I have been 19 so I know how to be self centered and selfish.

Just so you know, I have tried to be the best sister I can be. I mean best and not perfect. I have tried to be someone I wish I had when I was 19. If you think I have failed, so be it. Thank your lucky stars that you will never know how it feels to be an elder sister.

I know you have been nice and sweet and I have told you so, far too often. And I have also told you things that need to be improved for your good. If you have to work harder, then just do it.

I spent my last seventy dollars on you today; just so that you know what causes the boils etc. And I didn’t even get seven seconds of appreciation; just like many other times. Lack of appreciation is something I can live with but irresponsibility I don’t wish to tolerate anymore.

Sometimes, I wish I had the heart to be indifferent; just like you are. Perhaps I can’t because I carried you when you were a few days old and saw you grow from a charming feisty toddler to a dreamy angsty sweet hardworking teen.

I walk away knowing I have done what I can. See if you can do the same.

love hate.

I hate waiting for the bus. The waiting makes the entire affair longer than it really is. So trains are my to go and I’m glad I live very near to one.

From time to time, however, I have to wait for the bus to bring me to places that the train cannot.

And I love bus rides. I love looking out of the window and watch the world go by. I love sitting at the back of the bus; mostly lost in my own world and sometimes, in others. I love that bus rides give me a legitimate reason to be still and lazy. I love that on the bus, I can dream, with my eyes open.

I am with Timmy and our kids. We are walking to the school to drop off our eldest. We go to my favorite coffeeshop for our morning breakfast of kaya toast and soft boiled eggs. Tim drinks his coffee and me, tea. Our youngest, a few months old, watches us. We walk Timmy to the car. We kiss and hug. Sometimes, I push the pram to the market or the library or perhaps to the mall; all depends on the bus I am on. My hair is flying in the wind and so are her hands; waving at nobody and nothing in particular. We seem to be flowing to the same rhythm, in love with the present.

I don’t know what I’m telling Tim at breakfast. Neither can I hear what he told our son at the school gate. There are no words in this life, I live on the bus. From the scenes alone, I sense an immense joy and peace.

Many times, I feel warm as I go from one scene to another. They flow magically well and seems real. And I can’t help but smile at a life that is not yet.

Suddenly, reality will jolt me. I will squeeze Timmy’s arm if he is with me or I will look up to the sky and smile.

I love hate the bus.

a little dream.

I dreamt a little dream; a little rainbow rising in the horizon. That was all. I couldn’t remember where I was, who I was with or what I was doing prior to the sighting of the rainbow.

I jumped out of bed, telling myself that I dreamt a rainbow. A rainbow I repeated to myself as I walked from my bed to the kitchen.

A long time ago, I stood by the window and watched the rain. I prayed to see a rainbow if l was pregnant. I didn’t want to be misled by the symptoms and be subjected to disappointment. The rainbow was kind enough, not to appear.

Since then, I have stood at the window plenty of times and seen the rain come and go but never affected.

I found a way to sabotage myself. To distract myself. To manage any disappointment. To protect my mind, heart and body. I have read enough to know that there are many women out there getting disappointed, every month. And I didn’t want to be them.

As unhealthy as it sounds for my marriage, it protected my heart and to a certain extent, my body, from a possible wreck.

And a willing partner, unconsciously, maybe, helped in my escape plan.

We didn’t have sex and there were a million valid reasons. And the fact that my marriage wasn’t falling apart due to a lack of bedroom activity kept me running.

But there were a couple of times in the last three years where I gathered enough courage to halt my plan and at least twice, I was convinced I would see that rainbow. But l wouldn’t and l will get miserable and throw myself a self-pity party. It was definitely easier than Xmas dinners.

As with all parties, it was boring and it wrecked me. Self condemning thoughts and ghosts of the past will haunt me. These alone were enough to distract me. I hate being miserable. I hate being a victim. And I hate more that the gun was in my hands.

So I have asked why didn’t I just get lucky at the first go? Why not when it has happened to so many others?

I am, now, glad it didn’t.

I’m blessed to have gone through this journey. A time of clearing. A time to learn and trust. The opportunity to let my desire grow and deepen.

Because now, I want kids for myself; for us. Perhaps, I have come to a place where l would do anything to have one. Not because it is the right thing to do or because someone else is doing so.

But just because, it is time.

I have been running away from something I imagined to be scary and perhaps futile for me. I kept running because I pictured stories of others to be mine. I kept running without giving it my best shot. I didn’t pause to give myself a fair chance. How unfair, I have been, to myself and to my body.

So I dreamt a little rainbow.

And I wish myself all the best. I have prayed enough but will continue to pray and HOPE will keep me running towards that little rainbow.

help!

A friend, either with good intentions or to tease, asked me if I wanted her eggs that were frozen somewhere in a lab. One of her eggs have proved to be fruitful. Do I have bad eggs? I don’t know. I never asked them. Not yet, at least.

An acquaintance, through another, wanted me to know of a TCM doctor, renowned for helping couples and her conceive. She suffered from irregular periods which she must have thought hindered her ability to conceive and received help to conceive. Do I suffer from irregular periods? No I don’t. In fact, they are too regular. Did I tell her I needed help? No. All I did was to say out loud in front of her and others during a cell group session that Timmy and I are praying for a baby; once in 2012 and another time in 2013. Just because there hasn’t been a manifestation of our prayer, do I need to see a Chinese doctor? I’m not sure but I believe she meant well.

When my period came two weeks ago, right on time, I thought perhaps I do need some help. Maybe a vitamin or two will do the trick. I started researching and decided on two brands that I could look at buying. But when I got to the mall, I couldn’t bring myself to buy ‘help’. I asked Timmy what he thought and he encouraged me to go with my heart. I walked away without ‘help’.

I have a bottle of folic acid. She was bought either in 2011 or 2012. From time to time, I remember her presence and have her before bed. I looked into her, the other day, to see how much more I have to go. I am almost done.

But I am not done with my desire.

It is easier for me to walk away; to protect me, Timmy and perhaps even our marriage. But, easy is not what I want, for now.

For the first time, Timmy and I seem serious about parenthood. We have gone from talking about having children to having sex. We have improved from once a year to once in a few months and now, twice in the ‘oh so important’ week. The last two months have been unfruitful. But guess what, we are having sex and this alone deserves a big applause. Whether, I will be a mummy or not, I am, first, a wife.

So, I am afraid I don’t need your eggs or a recommendation of a Chinese doctor.

When I hear of friends/acquaintances who want kids, all I do is pray for them and ask them to trust God. I do not point them to anywhere or anyone else.

And now, that is the only help I want.