So here I am.
First, the excuses.
Why haven't I been writing?
1. The children keep me busy.
2. I'm still playing Candy Crush.
3. My laptop has aged considerably and is now moving as fast as, errrr, me?
4. I was busy discovering apartments and mansions on airbnb.
5. My sister introduced me to reddit. (Where have I been all this while?)
6. I think I've run out of excuses.
Who shall I write about first? #1? #2? #3? Or shall I write about me? Yes, me it shall be. (Come on, stop groaning now.)
Haha!
Aiyah. Just a short one. (I hope.)
I have some extra kilograms on me now. Yesterday, I started my first exercise programme since I became pregnant. That's about 16 months of no exercise. I rode The Husband's steel stallion, ie, his exercise bike. According to the display, I burnt 150 calories. But I don't think that's enough to burn the tubs of Nutella Tarts that I have been consuming. Of course home bakers don't have that nutrition (or lack thereof) table on their bottles. But I bet the big tub of nutella tarts that I almost single-handedly ploughed in less than a week contained at least 10,000 calories. There's a 100 of those little devils inside each tub. Each of them has a whole lot of butter and sugar in the tarts and that nutella filling? Oh. My. God. Divine stuff. And I only burnt 150 calories. How can I ever see a thigh gap. I'm never going to see a thigh gap. Ever.
But after that, I watched 'My 600-lb Life' on Channel 425. That's almost 300kg. After the show, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. So relieved I was by the reflection that I did a little jig. I think this is how people grow obese. By watching shows about people who are morbidly obese and then comforting yourself, that you are not *that* bad. But the absence of a thigh gap tells me that I could be making my way there. The steel stallion shall not be ignored. Tomorrow, we will be acquainted again.
I've been on unpaid leave since January and I have not read any books! Unless you count children's books. And more children's books. I have to randomly read the books the kids bring home to make sure that the contents are not objectionable. This random reading brought me to an End Blyton book. I've always had a thing for The Naughtiest Girl series. But somehow, I never read the Malory Towers series. So, I read it. And I found it objectionable. Two sisters were getting ready for school and their mother appeared in the doorway. A magnificent description of the mother followed. The sisters were so pleased by the mother's appearance because it simply would not do for a mother to look anything less than a diva. Especially when all their friends would know that that woman was their mother. And worse, those girls pooh-poohed a schoolmate whose mother cried as she took the train to go to the boarding school. I stopped reading right there. I could not go on. I don't know if the girls changed their opinions at the end of the book but no, oh no.
As a card-carrying-member of the Frumpy Mothers Club who wears Fitflops with everything and abhors contact lenses and prefers her nerdish glasses and whose tudung is always penyek like a keropok lemau, my daughter cannot read about daughters who prefer their mothers to look like goddesses. *clears phlegm and spits* There, you snooty Malory Towers girls. Take my phlegm, spat out with as much disdain as I imagine you show me.
Sooooo. Anyway. I have not read any story books for my own personal enjoyment. Fiction. Newspapers, tafsir Quran, blogs, facebook walls, twitter feeds etc don't count.
Speaking of twitter feeds. My twitter was hijacked by some Russian bots and then it made me follow a whole lot of funny characters, including Erdogan, Turkey's PM. And a lot of sleazy characters too. Since I hardly use it, I finally decided to kill the twitter account. So now I'm left with FB (in which I'm still pretty active) and IG (only one photo uploaded and every few weeks, I will remember it and trawl a length of IG feeds and that's it).
Quite a long story about me. Hehe. Will stop here and my next post will be about #3.
Sunday, April 05, 2015
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
23 January 2015 (II)
Oh boy. Am I on a roll or what.
Mistakes
While I can't stand how so many entries are riddled with grammatical and typographical errors, I simply am not doing much about them.
As with diary writing, everything that I write is unplanned. Well, there is some kind of vague planning that goes on in my head but from one idea, the writing goes everywhere.
I cringe when I eventually re-read my entries and see the mistakes but after 2 seconds, I decide against doing anything about it.
One day. One day, I will do something about it. But when will that day ever come? Ha. Ha. Ha.
One Day
Talking about One Day. I read this book by David Nicholls with the same title. I think it was Starter for Ten that started me on my David Nicholls binge. (What binge. Only 2 books.) I loved the twist in Starter for Ten and I thought he was a brilliant author. But, oh... After investing the whole night and half the morning (the very wee hours of the morning) in One Day, I realised that the protagonist died. How I also died at that point after investing so much emotion in Emma. Anyway. He has a new book "Us" and since I don't have the luxury of spending uninterrupted hours reading away, I (who happened to see the book at Popular bookstore) read the first 2 chapters and the last 2 chapters. So now I know the gist of the story and more importantly, the twist in the story and I can go along my merry way without remembering even the name of the main characters. Hooray!
Okay. That's all. Trying to make myself feel less annoyed after the failed nursing wear online shopping trip (see previous post).
Reading
Eh wait. That is not all.
Talking about books made me wonder when was the last time I read a good book. In the name of work (which I won't be engaged in 'til 2017), I had to read quite a lot of novels pitched for bigger children in the 11-12 age group. I needed material for setting exam papers. And now that my own girls are reading quite a lot of books, I have to read what they are reading. For a variety of reasons. Primary reason - as a censorship board. Secondary reason - so I know what they are reading and to know their wavelength. So I've been reading Rainbow Magic (Help me. There are 100+ Rainbow Magic books and the kids are quite adamant that they would read everything and then reread them), Charlie and Lola (Lola was cute the first 2 times I read about her but is now absolutely supremely annoying), Horrid Henry (if I could only reach through the pages of the books and throttle that #%&*!$#% boy), Ivy and Bean and God-knows-what-else. Thankfully, Huda is going through a recipe book phase now and so, out of the maximum of 20 library books that we allow them to borrow each visit, at least 3 will be some kind of cookbook.
Wait. What I wanted to say was - when was the last time I read a real good book not meant for children? Must check out Amazon's Kindle Books. (Averse to physical storybooks for now because I'm going through a minimalist phase brought on by the horrifying piles and piles of stuff I threw/gave away recently.)
Okay. That is all. Really.
Mistakes
While I can't stand how so many entries are riddled with grammatical and typographical errors, I simply am not doing much about them.
As with diary writing, everything that I write is unplanned. Well, there is some kind of vague planning that goes on in my head but from one idea, the writing goes everywhere.
I cringe when I eventually re-read my entries and see the mistakes but after 2 seconds, I decide against doing anything about it.
One day. One day, I will do something about it. But when will that day ever come? Ha. Ha. Ha.
One Day
Talking about One Day. I read this book by David Nicholls with the same title. I think it was Starter for Ten that started me on my David Nicholls binge. (What binge. Only 2 books.) I loved the twist in Starter for Ten and I thought he was a brilliant author. But, oh... After investing the whole night and half the morning (the very wee hours of the morning) in One Day, I realised that the protagonist died. How I also died at that point after investing so much emotion in Emma. Anyway. He has a new book "Us" and since I don't have the luxury of spending uninterrupted hours reading away, I (who happened to see the book at Popular bookstore) read the first 2 chapters and the last 2 chapters. So now I know the gist of the story and more importantly, the twist in the story and I can go along my merry way without remembering even the name of the main characters. Hooray!
Okay. That's all. Trying to make myself feel less annoyed after the failed nursing wear online shopping trip (see previous post).
Reading
Eh wait. That is not all.
Talking about books made me wonder when was the last time I read a good book. In the name of work (which I won't be engaged in 'til 2017), I had to read quite a lot of novels pitched for bigger children in the 11-12 age group. I needed material for setting exam papers. And now that my own girls are reading quite a lot of books, I have to read what they are reading. For a variety of reasons. Primary reason - as a censorship board. Secondary reason - so I know what they are reading and to know their wavelength. So I've been reading Rainbow Magic (Help me. There are 100+ Rainbow Magic books and the kids are quite adamant that they would read everything and then reread them), Charlie and Lola (Lola was cute the first 2 times I read about her but is now absolutely supremely annoying), Horrid Henry (if I could only reach through the pages of the books and throttle that #%&*!$#% boy), Ivy and Bean and God-knows-what-else. Thankfully, Huda is going through a recipe book phase now and so, out of the maximum of 20 library books that we allow them to borrow each visit, at least 3 will be some kind of cookbook.
Wait. What I wanted to say was - when was the last time I read a real good book not meant for children? Must check out Amazon's Kindle Books. (Averse to physical storybooks for now because I'm going through a minimalist phase brought on by the horrifying piles and piles of stuff I threw/gave away recently.)
Okay. That is all. Really.
23 January 2015
Why are nursing tops so expensive? They are so ridiculously priced!
I want to get a few more nursing tops as the ones I have now are all from Huda and Farah's time and therefore, they are just a few washes away from being rags.
I went to some Malaysian websites to look for tops which are of the sopan variety and the tops made me shudder in agony. I am far from being a fashionista so if I think the clothes are just too garish, they really are too garish.
There are some nice ones which unfortunately cost at least an arm and an additional thumb. I can't bring myself to pay $60 for a long sleeve T-shirt with nursing openings.
I should just get button-down shirts, right? The problem is, I feed the little boy everywhere, including the train. Regular button-down shirts do show a bit of skin should the little boy fiddle around with my tudung or push it away while drinking milk.
So now, I need new nursing tops and have been searching for them online since this morning but cannot find nice ones that don't require me to either sell off TheHusband's gadgets or start a gofundme drive. *somewhat annoyed*
I want to get a few more nursing tops as the ones I have now are all from Huda and Farah's time and therefore, they are just a few washes away from being rags.
I went to some Malaysian websites to look for tops which are of the sopan variety and the tops made me shudder in agony. I am far from being a fashionista so if I think the clothes are just too garish, they really are too garish.
There are some nice ones which unfortunately cost at least an arm and an additional thumb. I can't bring myself to pay $60 for a long sleeve T-shirt with nursing openings.
I should just get button-down shirts, right? The problem is, I feed the little boy everywhere, including the train. Regular button-down shirts do show a bit of skin should the little boy fiddle around with my tudung or push it away while drinking milk.
So now, I need new nursing tops and have been searching for them online since this morning but cannot find nice ones that don't require me to either sell off TheHusband's gadgets or start a gofundme drive. *somewhat annoyed*
Thursday, January 15, 2015
4 January 2015
Huda
Huda (all 23kg of her) is sitting on my lap now and wants me to write about her. She says she doesn't mind me writing mildly embarrassing things about her and she won't hold me accountable for leaking all these little trivia.
1. She likes to eat.
She loves to eat so much that her ambition is to become fat. I kid you not. Seriously. She wants to be fat. She has a cousin who's a bit on the heavy side and she wants to be just like her. This cousin is also eloquent and is an almost-GEP student, going for a few rounds of the tests before not making the final cut. The cousin is an 'influencer' (to copy the terms used by certain blogging companies now. haha) among all the cousins and I guess that's partly the reason she wants to be just like that cousin.
2. She likes to go to school early.
This girl is somewhat obsessed about going to school as early as possible. The situation was almost insane last year when she was in the afternoon session. Now that she's in the morning session, it's not too bad. She can't go that early unless she wakes up at 4am. She sets off for school at 6.30am with her father. School is a leisurely 15-minute stroll away. So she still reaches school extremely early, when the sky is still dark. These things make her happy.
3. CCA
We had to choose a CCA for her this year. She was in ICT Club in P1 and P2. Now, at P3, she has been given a chance to choose another CCA and she has chosen Brownies. I have never been in a uniformed group all my life, always choosing a 'light' CCA because I'm just, well, not too keen on these things. Eh wait. JC was a bit different. But I initially thought AVA Club in JC was similar to AVA Club in secondary school. Relak one corner kinda CCA. Little did I know...
Anyway. She chose Brownies. I am praying for her to get her second choice CCA, Library Club. :D
4. Maths is a killjoy
She's not incapable in Maths but I think all the scolding I gave while teaching her Maths has really sucked any bit of joy she might have found in the subject. I am now counselling myself into being a paragon of patience when it comes to coaching her in Maths. When it comes to my pupils in school, I can repeat my explanation slowly, differently til almost everyone understands. But when it comes to your own child, your expectation of your child is so much higher that you get inordinately upset when she cannot do a sum. It is not healthy. I do feel that the primary school syllabus requires pupils to have a mathematical maturity ahead of their time. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps it's just schools that set tests which distinguish the A* pupils from the rest of the folks. Sigh. Surely there is a very good explanation why pupils who do badly in PSLE Mathematics end up surviving and some even doing well in secondary school Mathematics. Double sigh. I will be more patient. I will be more patient. I will be more patient.
Huda (all 23kg of her) is sitting on my lap now and wants me to write about her. She says she doesn't mind me writing mildly embarrassing things about her and she won't hold me accountable for leaking all these little trivia.
1. She likes to eat.
She loves to eat so much that her ambition is to become fat. I kid you not. Seriously. She wants to be fat. She has a cousin who's a bit on the heavy side and she wants to be just like her. This cousin is also eloquent and is an almost-GEP student, going for a few rounds of the tests before not making the final cut. The cousin is an 'influencer' (to copy the terms used by certain blogging companies now. haha) among all the cousins and I guess that's partly the reason she wants to be just like that cousin.
2. She likes to go to school early.
This girl is somewhat obsessed about going to school as early as possible. The situation was almost insane last year when she was in the afternoon session. Now that she's in the morning session, it's not too bad. She can't go that early unless she wakes up at 4am. She sets off for school at 6.30am with her father. School is a leisurely 15-minute stroll away. So she still reaches school extremely early, when the sky is still dark. These things make her happy.
3. CCA
We had to choose a CCA for her this year. She was in ICT Club in P1 and P2. Now, at P3, she has been given a chance to choose another CCA and she has chosen Brownies. I have never been in a uniformed group all my life, always choosing a 'light' CCA because I'm just, well, not too keen on these things. Eh wait. JC was a bit different. But I initially thought AVA Club in JC was similar to AVA Club in secondary school. Relak one corner kinda CCA. Little did I know...
Anyway. She chose Brownies. I am praying for her to get her second choice CCA, Library Club. :D
4. Maths is a killjoy
She's not incapable in Maths but I think all the scolding I gave while teaching her Maths has really sucked any bit of joy she might have found in the subject. I am now counselling myself into being a paragon of patience when it comes to coaching her in Maths. When it comes to my pupils in school, I can repeat my explanation slowly, differently til almost everyone understands. But when it comes to your own child, your expectation of your child is so much higher that you get inordinately upset when she cannot do a sum. It is not healthy. I do feel that the primary school syllabus requires pupils to have a mathematical maturity ahead of their time. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps it's just schools that set tests which distinguish the A* pupils from the rest of the folks. Sigh. Surely there is a very good explanation why pupils who do badly in PSLE Mathematics end up surviving and some even doing well in secondary school Mathematics. Double sigh. I will be more patient. I will be more patient. I will be more patient.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
30 November 2014
(I resolve to stop writing titles. I will just write the date I start writing each post.)
Ihsan
Ihsan is now almost 4 months old. I am so very grateful that he has been an easy child to take care of. I only realise just how easy he is when he was cranky this morning, possibly because he had very little sleep yesterday.
He,like Middle Sister (as she would like to be known as now) Farah, is extremely curious about everything. Yesterday, when we were at his paternal grandfather's place, he stayed up during the entire 6 hours or so that we spent there taking in the sights and sounds which are less than familiar to him. I let everyone carry him, only taking him back to feed him, as I'm afraid that in the coming months when he can recognise faces, these faces that he does not see as often would only be howled at should they carry him. So, now, when I can enjoy some freedom and can have my arms to myself, I better enjoy it. The moment we left, at about 9 pm, he fell asleep in the baby carrier only to be rudely jolted awake at about 10.30 pm as I insisted on bathing him before changing him into his pyjamas.
This morning, he was not his happy cheerful self when he woke up. He normally just whimpers softly for his milk. When he's ready to wake up for the day, he coos and smiles; such a happy camper! But this morning, he cried each time he was put down. It was the first time in his entire life that I had to carry him, pacing back and forth, to calm him down. Not typical at all. But after a long afternoon nap, he was back to his calm, cheerful self.
Ihsan's Schedule
He normally wakes up 2-3 times a night for his feeds. He normally sleeps by 8-9 pm. He sometimes wakes up at 11pm for a round of milk, but not always. His next feed will be around 1 am followed by another one around 4.30 am. Around 8 am, he wakes up for a brand new day.
He takes naps throughout the day. A few hours in the morning and a few more hours in the afternoon.
When he's awake, and if I'm not busy doing housework (of which there is no end), I will spend the time talking to him. Well, errrr, I hope that's enough stimulation for the boy. He doesn't need colorful objects et al hung above him, right? He does see the rotating fan when he lies down on the sofa. Hur hur.
Me & Birth Control
When I was first admitted to the hospital last July, Dr KT Tan had a long conversation with me and strongly recommended ligation as another pregnancy could very well end my life. But, after that long conversation on Day 1 of my hospital stay, I had too much time to google the side effects of ligation and came across websites upon websites of women who supposedly suffered from Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome. So, in the end, I decided to go for Intra-Uterine Contraception Device (IUCD). As Dr KT Tan didn't visit me anymore after that, there was no one to tell me that IUCD wasn't suitable for me. All the other doctors I spoke to seemed to be okay with IUCD for me. Unfortunately, during the C-section, they found that my womb was paper thin. I suppose that was why after I delivered, Dr Tan came to visit me and chided me for changing my mind about ligation. Prior to this, I had been a model patient, always listening to her.
In the follow-up appointments, another doctor from the team of doctors who treated me, Dr Sim recommended Implanon. Research shows that among all the birth control methods, this has a very high success rate, higher than ligation and IUCD.
And so, Thursday came - the day for me to be fitted with the Implanon rod.
I have a tendency to over-research (that's how I came across Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome) so I did not want to do that again. I kept strictly to the medical websites, steered clear of forums. But I couldn't help googling 'Implanon and breastfeeding'. Official research shows that the volume of breastmilk was not affected and only an insignificant amount of the hormone seeped into the breastmilk. But, some women complained that their supply was affected.
I became wary.
So, I prayed and prayed for this Implanon to have no negative effects on me. Please please please.
Day 1-2 of Implanon insertion - my milk seemed to take a beating. I have always felt very engorged when I wake up in the morning but the first two mornings, I felt rather, well, just slightly full (of milk) when I wake up. I remembered what one of my friends told me, "The breasts can be trained" and fed the little boy non-stop. I knew my milk supply was affected when one side no longer sufficed. Prior to this, each feeding session required only one side. But on Friday and Saturday, I had to feed him from both sides. I didn't press the Panic Button. Yet. (Panic Button = "TheHusband, we need formula milk!"
Day 3 - I woke up to a wet top and damp bed sheet that smelt of milk. Hooray! The milk supply is back. Insya Allah, I will always have enough milk for my baby.
Other than the slight reduction in milk supply for the first 2 days, I have not had any negative side effects and I hope for it to remain that way. Amin!
Back to Implanon. It's a small rod, the size and length of a matchstick that is inserted just below the surface of the skin. The procedure does not take long. The doctor will first clean the site with alcohol, then inject a local anaesthetic to numb the skin. That will be the most painful part of the procedure. 1-2 minutes later, the doctor inserts the Implanon rod. If you wear long sleeves, make sure it is loose and can be pulled all the way up. After that, the nurse will clean the site. She will place a plaster where the rod was inserted. A piece of gauze on top of it. And a bandage that goes round and round your arm. You can remove the bandage after 24 hours. The plaster has to be changed and TheBraveHusband is tasked with this job. TheBraveHusband said that the insertion point looks like a tiny pimple now.
I do not know if the rod will show. I have not really inspected the site. If it does, there goes my swimwear modelling career. Not. It will be somewhat interesting to have this matchstick-like protrusion on your skin. Oh the tales I can weave with this to scare little people! (I came up with some fantastic tales to frighten innocent little people when I had braces once upon a time. Hee!)
Big Sister & Middle Sister
I am actually now quite wary about writing too much about them. Especially the Big Sister. She is a big girl, after all, now, and I don't want to embarrass her in future. I want to be honest here and write about everything, not just the good stuff.
(I can always delete the entries, right?)
Until I have discussed this with her extensively, I think she will only make occasional appearances in this blog.
Now, the Middle Sister is all of 5 years old. Feisty like what-lidat (to copy my nephew's favourite simile; I can feel all EL teachers rolling their eyes). You don't want to cross her path and make her mad. First, there is her scream. Very loud. Not a girlish shriek, mind you. She does not have a girlish voice. Then there is her piercing stare. Even a hardy cactus will wilt under that glare. And finally her stomping which attempts to wake the dead.
When does she employ this? When she perceives that injustice is done (more eye rolling). It's terribly annoying what they see as unfair: "You only want to play Kakak's game; you don't want to play my game!" (We've been playing Snap/Memory Game/Snake and Ladders almost every single day. One day, Kakak wants the family to play Monopoly. After a fun game of Monopoly - which went past their bedtime - she takes out her Snap cards and wants us to play Memory Game.)
"You always let Kakak carry Ihsan. I don't get to carry Ihsan!" (Never mind the fact that after 5 seconds of carrying Ihsan, she will ask somebody to relieve her. Or the fact that she tends to squeeze Ihsan too much. Or the fact that she just carried Ihsan in the morning.)
"You always sit beside Kakak. You don't sit beside me."
And a host of other "You always... You don't..."
I really dislike that adverb, always. Don't you?
---
But she is also the more expressive one between the two. Huda is not one to open up and share her emotions with others. Farah is very expressive. She declares her love for one and all. "Bye bye Nenek! I love you!" She hugs me when she is going to school and when she comes back. She openly declares that she misses me when she's in school. When I tell her I love her, she asks, how about Ayah/Kakak/Atok/Nenek/insert family member. So now I tell her, I love you and Kakak and Ayah and all our family members, near and far.
The Big Sister is quite different here. She is not as expressive as her sister. Outside her school, she doesn't want to hug me. Huaaaaarrrggghhh!!! The Big Sister is growing up too fast!
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Sometimes, I ask them, if you can exchange me for any mother, who will you choose? They are pretty undecided about this one. I have yet to hear a name being mentioned. What I am so grateful for is that they are very close to their cousins and all my siblings and in-laws are as neurotic as I am. Since we are all about the same, swopping mothers with their cousins does not seem to bring any benefit to them. (There will still be highly limited screen time. So, no fun.)
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All righty! Must stop now before I accidentally write so much about the Big Sister without consulting her!
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All righty! Must stop now before I accidentally write so much about the Big Sister without consulting her!
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
November 2014 Updates...
I have a few hours to myself now. Ihsan can nap for 2-3 hours in the daytime now. Huda has gone off for a Tarbiyah Programme conducted by sister-in-law's company, Little Muslim Readers. Farah is at the childcare centre. I'm supposed to straighten out the big store room but this blog requires some updates. Heh.
In no particular order and with no organisational skills/planning put into this entry, from the top of my head...
1. November 24
I turned 37 yesterday! Alhamdulillah, I'm still alive, in pretty good health, blessed with a good husband, lovely kids, a supportive extended family, very good friends, in decent financial state.. what more can I ask for? Alhamdulillah. Allah has been really kind to me and I am always grateful. (Forgive me, Allah, when I sometimes complain and whine. I try to cut it out but I am a weak human.)
I complain sometimes about insects which find my home extremely attractive. Like these creatures that decided to wave at me and (according to Haryati) wish me a happy birthday yesterday..
Talking about homes - I have stopped looking for a bigger flat. I like the view outside the window too much to give up this place. What we'll do instead is to renovate the entire house sometime next year or year after next. There will be lots and lots of hidden storage space, airconditioning and there should be no need for window dressings. I actually hate curtains and it's such a waste of greenery outside when it's all covered by curtains. We have to engage an ID consultant for this. TheHusband and I only have vague ideas of our dream design and we need a professional to make sure that it happens.
Of course, a key thing that we will have will be some kind of 'invisible netting' to prevent all the insects from coming in. Yes, all those greenery come hand in hand with creepy crawlies but surely there is a way to tell them to stay out of my house!
2. Ihsan
He is now almost 4 months old! 110 days; 3 months 18 days to be precise. (I didn't count. I used an online duration calculator.)
He smiles and laughs a lot. He is quite a guzzler, drinking milk noisily as if he is famished. He wakes up 2-3 times at night which is fine by me. He sleeps in a cot beside my bed but always ends up on the bed with me because I tend to fall asleep while feeding him.
He used to poo about 6 times a day. Small amounts of poop but boy, are they stinkbombs! Now he poos once or twice a week only. But it's a whole lot of poop which requires many many wet wipes and a complete hose down after all the wiping.
Knowing that this is most likely my last and final child (and perhaps the fact that I am an older mom therefore calmer, less kiasu etc), I am a lot less uptight about many things. I am not checking developing milestones every other day and ensuring he meets them. As long as he is developing well, I am fine. So what if he is not turning yet. Eventually, he will. I remember what a worrywart I was with Huda. I was concerned that she was taking a long time to start walking. But, it doesn't quite matter at which point you start, because you will get there someday. And so by the time Farah came around, I had made some realisations so I was relaxed about her toilet training. No point forcing it on her. When she's ready, she's ready. And so Farah practically toilet-trained herself.
And then, there's this poem I read recently. It was one of those poems which made the rounds on Facebook. About how this particular thing you do for your child could very well be the last time you do it for your child. No, not in that morbid way that you or your child will die. But, the fact that your baby grows up so fast that today, you are bathing him in his plastic bathtub and tomorrow (okay, more like many months from now), he will be standing up without the need for a tub. So I don't grumble (much) and just enjoy the moments.
Anyway, this boy enjoys his bath time very much. He kicks the water, smiles and coos during bath time. Absolutely adorable. And here are random pictures of him.
Actually, I wanted to write about the girls too but I think that has to wait because I absolutely must must must do housework now. So, goodbye for now!
In no particular order and with no organisational skills/planning put into this entry, from the top of my head...
1. November 24
I turned 37 yesterday! Alhamdulillah, I'm still alive, in pretty good health, blessed with a good husband, lovely kids, a supportive extended family, very good friends, in decent financial state.. what more can I ask for? Alhamdulillah. Allah has been really kind to me and I am always grateful. (Forgive me, Allah, when I sometimes complain and whine. I try to cut it out but I am a weak human.)
I complain sometimes about insects which find my home extremely attractive. Like these creatures that decided to wave at me and (according to Haryati) wish me a happy birthday yesterday..
 |
| Stuck on the outside of the living room window. Yikes. |
Of course, a key thing that we will have will be some kind of 'invisible netting' to prevent all the insects from coming in. Yes, all those greenery come hand in hand with creepy crawlies but surely there is a way to tell them to stay out of my house!
2. Ihsan
He is now almost 4 months old! 110 days; 3 months 18 days to be precise. (I didn't count. I used an online duration calculator.)
He smiles and laughs a lot. He is quite a guzzler, drinking milk noisily as if he is famished. He wakes up 2-3 times at night which is fine by me. He sleeps in a cot beside my bed but always ends up on the bed with me because I tend to fall asleep while feeding him.
He used to poo about 6 times a day. Small amounts of poop but boy, are they stinkbombs! Now he poos once or twice a week only. But it's a whole lot of poop which requires many many wet wipes and a complete hose down after all the wiping.
Knowing that this is most likely my last and final child (and perhaps the fact that I am an older mom therefore calmer, less kiasu etc), I am a lot less uptight about many things. I am not checking developing milestones every other day and ensuring he meets them. As long as he is developing well, I am fine. So what if he is not turning yet. Eventually, he will. I remember what a worrywart I was with Huda. I was concerned that she was taking a long time to start walking. But, it doesn't quite matter at which point you start, because you will get there someday. And so by the time Farah came around, I had made some realisations so I was relaxed about her toilet training. No point forcing it on her. When she's ready, she's ready. And so Farah practically toilet-trained herself.
And then, there's this poem I read recently. It was one of those poems which made the rounds on Facebook. About how this particular thing you do for your child could very well be the last time you do it for your child. No, not in that morbid way that you or your child will die. But, the fact that your baby grows up so fast that today, you are bathing him in his plastic bathtub and tomorrow (okay, more like many months from now), he will be standing up without the need for a tub. So I don't grumble (much) and just enjoy the moments.
Anyway, this boy enjoys his bath time very much. He kicks the water, smiles and coos during bath time. Absolutely adorable. And here are random pictures of him.
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| Must take pictures of him crying. Heh. |
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| Kakak Farah squeezes and squashes him on a regular basis. |
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| Kakak Huda and Ihsan look alike, yes? |
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| Kakak Farah boring him to tears, no, sleepyland with a book about fairies. |
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| I took all three kids on a long MRT ride all by myself. Felt accomplished. Hehe.. |
Actually, I wanted to write about the girls too but I think that has to wait because I absolutely must must must do housework now. So, goodbye for now!
Saturday, November 01, 2014
New Throne Room!
HDB has kindly selected our area for the Home Improvement Programme.
Initially, TheHusband and I were not at all keen on getting new toilets as our almost-12yo toilets were still in pretty decent condition. So, we said Yes to a new door and a new gate but declined to change our toilets. A month before our block was due for the renovation works, they did a watertest for all the units which said No to the toilet upgrading. One of our bathrooms failed. So, since we were going to do one, we might as well upgrade the other.
And that's how we end up with this story for today.
This is a story for all those who are going to go through this. On the day before the works started, I googled for experiences of people who had gone through this but did not find much info. Hopefully, for anyone who's going through this, this info would be helpful.
We were assured that if you do the toilet upgrading, it will take 10 working days (Sundays & public holidays not included). You should be present on Days 1, 9 & 10. On other days, you can just get anybody to housesit. If you are working, it will be good to take Days 11 and 12 off too so that you can give your house a complete scrub down.
This is a step-by-step guide on what to do and how to survive the upgrading process.
PRIOR to the works:
1. Find alternative homes for your pets, children and any sick or elderly persons for about 3 weeks. (You wouldn't want them to come back immediately on Day 11 what with the dust still floating about.)
(Thank you, Mak & Abah, for taking us in for 2 weeks!)
2. Get your new bathroom fittings. You are getting a new bathroom. Don't be so kiam siap, try to save money and reuse your old, mouldy, rusty fittings in a new bathroom. If money is really tight, the grab bars (up to 8 per bathroom, if I'm not mistaken) can be used to hold your shampoo bottles, towels etc. But you can get pretty cheap and nice stuff from Ikea. We got ourselves stuff from the Grundtal range - nice, stainless steel stuff.
3. This is the most important. Get many many big black trash bags (unused, of course) and wrap up all your belongings in them. Every single thing. Your kitchen? Don't even think of cooking in the 10 days. The toilet in your kitchen will be spewing dust on every horizontal and vertical space in your kitchen and beyond. (Beyond = Living room, corridor etc)
Pack your cutlery, your plates, your kettle, your rice cooker, your recipe books etc. Pack pack pack them all in those black trash bags. Pile them up neatly in one corner. Cover your fridge (unless you want a cloud of dust to descend into your fridge each time you open it). Cover your oven, toaster, washing machine, stove, microwave oven. Cover your bed, your TV, your computer table, your dining table. Cover everything.
On Day 9 of the renovation works, I realised that the paint shop near my house sells huge 9 feet x 13 feet plastic sheet for only $1.50. I wish I knew about this. It would make the post-renovation clean-up work so much more manageable.
Choose a room which will be your sanctuary during those 10 harrowing days. Pack up everything and only have the necessities out.
Your home will look like a cross between a war-torn area and an Ebola zone. That sanctuary for you to retreat to is absolutely essential. Otherwise, you will get so depressed by 3pm of Day 1 that you might need to check into the Institute of Mental Health.
4. If there's any 'special order' that you want, go to the office prior to the renovation and tell them what you want. I wish I had asked them to rearrange the placement of the wall tiles. I will regret this decision for the rest of my bathroom's life.
They also said that the bathroom doors are fixed to open on the left side. We wanted the hinges to be on the right side and TheHusband had to speak to the contractors and be very firm about it before they relented. And that's another thing. If you want any 'special orders', make sure the one who does the talking is the one who is more firm. Me? I can't do it. I can only talk to students and parents. Talking to contractors require a special skillset which I do not possess.
OUR STORY: We were both reluctant (read: lazy) to do much before the renovation. We covered some stuff in the kitchen and that was it. We were also under some false illusion that the dust level will be tolerable.
Day 1 is the most horrifying day. At 8am, the supervisor and his team came, explained to me what would happen and then, very quickly, they put up their own plastic sheets. I was naive enough to think those sheets were enough. They stuck the sheets (which had been used many times in previous homes and therefore already had a thick layer of dust) to the ceiling using rolled up masking tape. The sheets would provide some kind of barrier between the rest of the house and the path that the workers would take to the bathrooms.
By 10am, full blown hacking of the old toilets had started. Oh boy. I stepped out of my sanctuary into a cloud of dusty gloom and doom.
By 12 noon, I was miserable. I thought those plastic sheets which gave the whole house an enhanced gloom factor was going to stay up for the entire 10 days of renovations.
By 3pm, I thought I was losing my sanity.
By 6pm - the scheduled end time - the work was still not done!
7.30pm. Finally, they were done. They said the bathrooms in my house were made of batu - stone - and were particularly difficult to hack. One of the workers said that was the first time they had to stay that lack for the hacking process. Errrrrr... Then what? Make my bathroom out of paper and plastic? But I do sympathise with the workers. I hope they are given overtime pay.
And I was depressed. The house was in a dusty mess. The kitchen had unforgivable dust everywhere. All I wanted to do was stay at my mother's house for the entire duration. But TheHusband was working so I had to be there on weekdays.
Day 2 was a Saturday. TheHusband had the Housesitter duties for that day. There was more drilling and dust but nowhere near as bad as Day 1.
The works for each block were done in stages. For my 4-storey block, my flat, the flat beside mine, the flat below mine and its immediate neighbour started first. The following day, the next four units started theirs. So, for the first 4 days, hacking was going on all the time and there was a free flow of dust.
The dust was depressing. I decided to clean the kitchen as best as I could on Sunday. TheHusband said that it would be a futile process but I insisted. So I wiped what I could, covered up the stove and various other appliances in the kitchen, washed the plates that were not covered and when they were dry, packed them all in plastic bags. After all the reno works were over, I was so glad I did this. It made the post-reno clean-up a lot easier.
Days 3 - 6 were mostly cement work, waiting for it to dry, more cement work, applying some waterproof material and more cement work.
Our previous toilet had a shower kerb. To send the waste water from one side to the other side, we had a mini floor trap. Water from that mini floor trap was sent to the main sewage pipe via a pipe that was placed beneath the tiles. Now they told us that they could not make the mini floor trap as that is not what they are supposed to do. We can still have our shower kerb but we will have a hole in the shower kerb and water will flow from the wet area through the supposed dry area and then into the main floor trap. NOT what we want but that was the way HDB decreed things to be.
Later on, somewhere around Day 7 when all the cement work was done and tiling work had started, a neighbour said, if we had put our foot down, we could get our mini floor trap. WHAT???
(insert choice expletives)
In the meantime, one pleasant outcome of this was the kampong spirit it caused among the neighbours. We were mostly milling about along the corridor and we often pop into each other's flats to check on the progress of the work. Most of us do not exchange more than a hello but during this period, we become best buddies and chit chatted along the corridor. I could also count on my neighbours to take care of Ihsan while I used the replacement toilets at the void deck.
So it was Day 7, another Saturday, therefore TheHusband's turn to housesit. It was the day of the tiling and we had already regretted not visiting the office earlier so that we could rearrange the placement of the wall tiles. There were three different tiles used for the walls: light cream tiles, yellow-ish tiles and small narrow tiles often used as dividers. We wanted the top half of the walls to be light cream, bottom half yellow and the divider tiles separating the two. But, we did not visit the office. So, we have to contend with HDB's artistic, stylish designs for the rest of our toilets' lives. Hopefully we will outlive the toilets.
Shower kerb - for some reason, the tiler decided that he would put the hole for the shower kerb in the middle of the shower kerb. (insert choice expletives) TheHusband was monumentally upset and as the tiler could not understand a single word he said, he got our neighbour to do the translating. The tiler insisted that that was what he would do and so TheHusband called the supervisor. Supervisor came, spoke to the tiler and tiler had to redo half of the floor tiles.
Also, prepare your own tiles that match the kitchen tilesthat shall be placed at the entrance of the toilet. Otherwise, you will have a sudden explosion of yellow tiles in a sea of grey tiles.
Day 9 - Husband had taken the day off so that he could tell the workers exactly where to place the bathroom accessories. This was also a day to find out all that you are upset with and for them to fix whatever you find troubling. So after the entire day was over, TheHusband thoroughly inspected both bathrooms so as to spot all issues that could be rectified the following day.
Day 10 - Handover day. At least 4 different workers came to fix the issues we had. By 5.45pm, all was done and I signed the various documents to signify that everything was over and I would no loner have these workers coming in and out of t he house.
---
Post-Renovation Clean Up is a mighty headache. 3 to 4 rounds of sweeping, vacuuming and mopping cleared up the dust in the living room and bedrooms. But my kitchen tiles are an absolute nightmare. The tiles we chose some 12 years ago have very rough surface with so many grooves and tiny crevices. The dust that gets trapped in there simply does not want to come out. I swept the floor, vacuumed at maximum suction power, went down on my knees to wipe every stubborn tile. But the dusty feel is just too strong. I think I have to wash the kitchen. But the cleaning that I did had caused a sprain in my back. (Tip: If you had not exercised for a year, do some stretching and warming up before embarking on the cleaning project. Seriously.) So until my back is okay, the kitchen will remain depressingly dusty.
In the days to come, I have to open up every cabinet and wipe the dust off everything. Dust entered through the tiny sliver of a gap between the doors and settled on the shelves inside. (cry cry cry)
So, please please please get that big plastic sheet from the paint shop and cover everything.
Post-renovation clean up is still ongoing, especially in the kitchen. There is really no shortcut to the cleanup process but if you had put in a lot of effort prior to the works AND if you do not have tiles with rough surfaces, your clean-up process will be that much easier.
The End.
---
Final Verdict (after using the toilet for a week or so) - (will be updated periodically)
1. 5 days after the works were completed, we had to get the workers to redo the grouting in the bathrooms. Just 5 days later, the grouting had turned greyish. The grouting was not flush with the tiles so dirt collected in the crevices. It was annoying having to spray all the dirt into the floor trap after every use of the toilet.
2. Never, never have a shower kerb if you are not getting a mini floor trap. Due to the absence of an underground path for water to travel, I could never have a completely dry half in the bathroom. It is a major annoyance.
Initially, TheHusband and I were not at all keen on getting new toilets as our almost-12yo toilets were still in pretty decent condition. So, we said Yes to a new door and a new gate but declined to change our toilets. A month before our block was due for the renovation works, they did a watertest for all the units which said No to the toilet upgrading. One of our bathrooms failed. So, since we were going to do one, we might as well upgrade the other.
And that's how we end up with this story for today.
 |
| My 'ol common bathroom. In perfect working condition and it had that mini floor trap. But this bathroom was sacrificed because "since we are going to put up with dust from the hacking of one toilet, might as well do the other one." |
We were assured that if you do the toilet upgrading, it will take 10 working days (Sundays & public holidays not included). You should be present on Days 1, 9 & 10. On other days, you can just get anybody to housesit. If you are working, it will be good to take Days 11 and 12 off too so that you can give your house a complete scrub down.
This is a step-by-step guide on what to do and how to survive the upgrading process.
PRIOR to the works:
1. Find alternative homes for your pets, children and any sick or elderly persons for about 3 weeks. (You wouldn't want them to come back immediately on Day 11 what with the dust still floating about.)
(Thank you, Mak & Abah, for taking us in for 2 weeks!)
2. Get your new bathroom fittings. You are getting a new bathroom. Don't be so kiam siap, try to save money and reuse your old, mouldy, rusty fittings in a new bathroom. If money is really tight, the grab bars (up to 8 per bathroom, if I'm not mistaken) can be used to hold your shampoo bottles, towels etc. But you can get pretty cheap and nice stuff from Ikea. We got ourselves stuff from the Grundtal range - nice, stainless steel stuff.
3. This is the most important. Get many many big black trash bags (unused, of course) and wrap up all your belongings in them. Every single thing. Your kitchen? Don't even think of cooking in the 10 days. The toilet in your kitchen will be spewing dust on every horizontal and vertical space in your kitchen and beyond. (Beyond = Living room, corridor etc)
Pack your cutlery, your plates, your kettle, your rice cooker, your recipe books etc. Pack pack pack them all in those black trash bags. Pile them up neatly in one corner. Cover your fridge (unless you want a cloud of dust to descend into your fridge each time you open it). Cover your oven, toaster, washing machine, stove, microwave oven. Cover your bed, your TV, your computer table, your dining table. Cover everything.
On Day 9 of the renovation works, I realised that the paint shop near my house sells huge 9 feet x 13 feet plastic sheet for only $1.50. I wish I knew about this. It would make the post-renovation clean-up work so much more manageable.
Choose a room which will be your sanctuary during those 10 harrowing days. Pack up everything and only have the necessities out.
Your home will look like a cross between a war-torn area and an Ebola zone. That sanctuary for you to retreat to is absolutely essential. Otherwise, you will get so depressed by 3pm of Day 1 that you might need to check into the Institute of Mental Health.
4. If there's any 'special order' that you want, go to the office prior to the renovation and tell them what you want. I wish I had asked them to rearrange the placement of the wall tiles. I will regret this decision for the rest of my bathroom's life.
They also said that the bathroom doors are fixed to open on the left side. We wanted the hinges to be on the right side and TheHusband had to speak to the contractors and be very firm about it before they relented. And that's another thing. If you want any 'special orders', make sure the one who does the talking is the one who is more firm. Me? I can't do it. I can only talk to students and parents. Talking to contractors require a special skillset which I do not possess.
OUR STORY: We were both reluctant (read: lazy) to do much before the renovation. We covered some stuff in the kitchen and that was it. We were also under some false illusion that the dust level will be tolerable.
Day 1 is the most horrifying day. At 8am, the supervisor and his team came, explained to me what would happen and then, very quickly, they put up their own plastic sheets. I was naive enough to think those sheets were enough. They stuck the sheets (which had been used many times in previous homes and therefore already had a thick layer of dust) to the ceiling using rolled up masking tape. The sheets would provide some kind of barrier between the rest of the house and the path that the workers would take to the bathrooms.
 | ||
They lay out these vinyl sheets on the floor and protect your doors first. See the toilet there? That's my bathroom which had a little leak when they did a watertest but no leaks during regular use.
|
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| Goodbye toilet - the one with the mini floor trap and tiles I like, even if they look dated. |
 |
| Kitchen - everything was pushed to one side and they put up these plastic sheets which might have helped a teeny weeny bit in reducing the amount of dust on the surfaces. |
 |
| Huuuaaaarrrrggghhhh!! My good common bathroom that had no problems... |
7.30pm. Finally, they were done. They said the bathrooms in my house were made of batu - stone - and were particularly difficult to hack. One of the workers said that was the first time they had to stay that lack for the hacking process. Errrrrr... Then what? Make my bathroom out of paper and plastic? But I do sympathise with the workers. I hope they are given overtime pay.
And I was depressed. The house was in a dusty mess. The kitchen had unforgivable dust everywhere. All I wanted to do was stay at my mother's house for the entire duration. But TheHusband was working so I had to be there on weekdays.
Day 2 was a Saturday. TheHusband had the Housesitter duties for that day. There was more drilling and dust but nowhere near as bad as Day 1.
The works for each block were done in stages. For my 4-storey block, my flat, the flat beside mine, the flat below mine and its immediate neighbour started first. The following day, the next four units started theirs. So, for the first 4 days, hacking was going on all the time and there was a free flow of dust.
The dust was depressing. I decided to clean the kitchen as best as I could on Sunday. TheHusband said that it would be a futile process but I insisted. So I wiped what I could, covered up the stove and various other appliances in the kitchen, washed the plates that were not covered and when they were dry, packed them all in plastic bags. After all the reno works were over, I was so glad I did this. It made the post-reno clean-up a lot easier.
Days 3 - 6 were mostly cement work, waiting for it to dry, more cement work, applying some waterproof material and more cement work.
Our previous toilet had a shower kerb. To send the waste water from one side to the other side, we had a mini floor trap. Water from that mini floor trap was sent to the main sewage pipe via a pipe that was placed beneath the tiles. Now they told us that they could not make the mini floor trap as that is not what they are supposed to do. We can still have our shower kerb but we will have a hole in the shower kerb and water will flow from the wet area through the supposed dry area and then into the main floor trap. NOT what we want but that was the way HDB decreed things to be.
Later on, somewhere around Day 7 when all the cement work was done and tiling work had started, a neighbour said, if we had put our foot down, we could get our mini floor trap. WHAT???
(insert choice expletives)
In the meantime, one pleasant outcome of this was the kampong spirit it caused among the neighbours. We were mostly milling about along the corridor and we often pop into each other's flats to check on the progress of the work. Most of us do not exchange more than a hello but during this period, we become best buddies and chit chatted along the corridor. I could also count on my neighbours to take care of Ihsan while I used the replacement toilets at the void deck.
So it was Day 7, another Saturday, therefore TheHusband's turn to housesit. It was the day of the tiling and we had already regretted not visiting the office earlier so that we could rearrange the placement of the wall tiles. There were three different tiles used for the walls: light cream tiles, yellow-ish tiles and small narrow tiles often used as dividers. We wanted the top half of the walls to be light cream, bottom half yellow and the divider tiles separating the two. But, we did not visit the office. So, we have to contend with HDB's artistic, stylish designs for the rest of our toilets' lives. Hopefully we will outlive the toilets.
Shower kerb - for some reason, the tiler decided that he would put the hole for the shower kerb in the middle of the shower kerb. (insert choice expletives) TheHusband was monumentally upset and as the tiler could not understand a single word he said, he got our neighbour to do the translating. The tiler insisted that that was what he would do and so TheHusband called the supervisor. Supervisor came, spoke to the tiler and tiler had to redo half of the floor tiles.
Also, prepare your own tiles that match the kitchen tilesthat shall be placed at the entrance of the toilet. Otherwise, you will have a sudden explosion of yellow tiles in a sea of grey tiles.
 |
| See that sudden appearance of yellow, and not even nice yellow. A dirty yellow. Sob. |
Day 10 - Handover day. At least 4 different workers came to fix the issues we had. By 5.45pm, all was done and I signed the various documents to signify that everything was over and I would no loner have these workers coming in and out of t he house.
---
Post-Renovation Clean Up is a mighty headache. 3 to 4 rounds of sweeping, vacuuming and mopping cleared up the dust in the living room and bedrooms. But my kitchen tiles are an absolute nightmare. The tiles we chose some 12 years ago have very rough surface with so many grooves and tiny crevices. The dust that gets trapped in there simply does not want to come out. I swept the floor, vacuumed at maximum suction power, went down on my knees to wipe every stubborn tile. But the dusty feel is just too strong. I think I have to wash the kitchen. But the cleaning that I did had caused a sprain in my back. (Tip: If you had not exercised for a year, do some stretching and warming up before embarking on the cleaning project. Seriously.) So until my back is okay, the kitchen will remain depressingly dusty.
In the days to come, I have to open up every cabinet and wipe the dust off everything. Dust entered through the tiny sliver of a gap between the doors and settled on the shelves inside. (cry cry cry)
So, please please please get that big plastic sheet from the paint shop and cover everything.
Post-renovation clean up is still ongoing, especially in the kitchen. There is really no shortcut to the cleanup process but if you had put in a lot of effort prior to the works AND if you do not have tiles with rough surfaces, your clean-up process will be that much easier.
The End.
---
Final Verdict (after using the toilet for a week or so) - (will be updated periodically)
1. 5 days after the works were completed, we had to get the workers to redo the grouting in the bathrooms. Just 5 days later, the grouting had turned greyish. The grouting was not flush with the tiles so dirt collected in the crevices. It was annoying having to spray all the dirt into the floor trap after every use of the toilet.
2. Never, never have a shower kerb if you are not getting a mini floor trap. Due to the absence of an underground path for water to travel, I could never have a completely dry half in the bathroom. It is a major annoyance.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
And TheBoy is Born...
This will be one long entry which will take days or more likely, weeks (more like months) to write.
28 July 2014
Hari Raya.
First day of Hari Raya is usually the mildest for me. We'd go to the mosque to perform our special Hari Raya prayers, go home for a short spell, then to my mom's, to my SIL's and finally to my FIL's. This year, thanks to TheHusband's NS-going nephew who had to report back to camp by 10pm, we ended the visiting much earlier, at around 8pm instead of the usual 10pm.
So, back home we went. After getting all items for work and school ready for the next day, TheHusband and I turned in at around 11pm. As always, it was a restless sleep for me. In the final stages of pregnancy, all women complain of the same thing: no sleep position is ever comfortable. What I normally do after turning this way and that multiple times is to move to Alternative B: the sofa in the living room. When that fails to bring me my much-needed sleep, Alternative C is the extra bed in the kids' room. So, I migrated to the sofa and sleep came soon enough.
29 July 2014, 3.15am
I woke up feeling some pulsing sensations down below and with every pulse, out came some fluids. I thought it was heavy discharge. I touched my bottoms and it felt wet. Could this be blood, I thought. I switched on the light - I honestly do not know how I did it, considering that so much blood was coming out but I did.
There was blood on the throw which we used on the sofa. And as I stood up to look at the damage, more blood gushed out.
I called out for TheHusband, loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that it would cause an alarm. Thankfully, he responded the second time. I remember being so calm at this stage. I told him, calmly, "I am now bleeding. KK's number is on the fridge. Can you call the hospital and find out what we are supposed to do? I am going to take a shower and if I have to go to the hospital, I'll call my parents later to tell them we are depositing H & F over there."
All the while, blood was running down my legs.
I grabbed the throw, revealing blood-soaked cushions underneath the throwp. I used the throw to stem the flow of the blood so that I would not be dripping blood on the way to the bathroom.
As I showered, more blood gushed out. TheHusband, following my instructions, took some pads (thank God I had not chucked them out when I found myself pregnant!) and the work pants that I had prepared. After the shower, I got dressed and sat down on some towels and made the call to my parents. The first call to the home number went unanswered and the second call to my sister's phone went unanswered too. I called the home number again and this time, my sister picked it up.
In the meantime, TheHusband started stripping the cushion off its covers and dumped the covers in the washing machine together with loads of VanishO2 (not paid for this product placement ad).
My sister informed my parents and according to her, my parents literally jumped out of bed. My mother has always been a bit worried about my pregnancies because of the difficulties I faced in my previous pregnancies. Receiving calls like this in the wee hours of the morning was something she feared.
My sister called again to say that my father would be fetching the girls. The girls woke up without much of a fuss and when my sister appeared at the door, they followed her. My parents, thinking that we were calling an ambulance (I did not; I was just planning on calling a taxi), then got us out of the house and took us to KK.
29 July 2014, 4.30am
At KK. We had to decide on a ward class. I wanted KT Tan to continue being my doctor so I initially opted for the lowest private class - B1. But even with B1, the admin office said that seeing that the baby was premature, I would expect to pay about $50,000 in hospital bills. No way jose. So, I settled for the cheapest subsidized class, C, and left the rest to Allah.
The doctors soon came and I was categorized in the high risk group. Besides being a confirmed placenta praevia major case, I was also a 'suspicious placenta accreta' patient. Placenta accreta is a condition (in my layman's terms) in which the uterus is stuck to the old C-section wounds. At birth, the placenta is supposed to come out on its own after the baby is born but in this case, the placenta had to be pried out and it might cause some heavy bleeding. I was told that if this is indeed placenta accreta, the way the delivery is approached would be very different. First, the incision will not be a horizontal incision at the bikini line. But it is a vertical incision starting from below the ribs. Prior to the birth, I would have to have a surgery to insert some catheter/balloon-thing from my thighs so as to stop the expected heavy bleeding during the birth. They may have to remove my womb during the surgery if they couldn't stop the bleeding and I may need a stay in ICU after the birth.
I wanted KT Tan to continue treating me and as my good luck (somewhat strange to call it this considering the circumstances) would have it, despite being a subsidised patient, KT Tan was in the team of doctors who treated me. As a high risk patient, not only do I have my preferred doctor, I also had a team of doctors and professors looking into my case.
30 July 2014
The first 2 days were filled with worries and fears. I had an MRI scan and 3 ultrasound scans, the second and third attended by the head of the OB/GYN department himself. I didn't have to worry about quality of care as a C-class patient.
Groups of doctors came to explain my situation to me. I got the idea of how grave a situation I was in. All of them warned me that death was a likely scenario. I had reached the point of leaving everything in the hands of God. If I were to die, it is not something that I could avoid. I wrote a simple will for my husband to execute in the event of my death. In Islam, I can will away up to 1/3 of my estate in whichever way I want but a minimum of 2/3 must be given away according to faraidh law. (If you are interested to know who will inherit your property, check out the faraidh calculator on MUIS' website.)
As my situation was still uncertain and I could be wheeled to the Operation Theatre at any time, I was not allowed any food. Throughout the pregnancy, I was eating 6 meals a day, except during Ramadhan of course when I miraculously could withstand the hunger. On the first day, I was only allowed to eat close to 7pm. Considering that my last meal was at 8pm the previous day, I was completely famished by then. Every doctor or nurse who came in after 4pm was asked the same question, "Can I eat now?" While I understood why I could not be given food, my stomach couldn't take it! Eventually, the combination of hunger plus missing my daughters and the worries I had made me break down in tears when a doctor asked me how I was. "Why are you crying?" she asked. "I'm so hungry," I answered. And I immediately got my dinner.
The next day was the same. I was not allowed any food. It was only around dinner time when they were sure that I was not going to bleed anymore did they allow me food. By that time, I was sure I could fast in Iceland, the land of 23 hours of daytime, if I had to.
All the scans also showed that my condition was 'mild' which in medicine-speak, means that it might be an accreta, it might not be one. But, I was told that I must stay at the hospital until I deliver. The plan was for me to deliver on 22 August, sometime after I hit Week 37. 3 weeks away. Oh. My. God. 3 weeks stuck in the hospital followed by at least 3 days post-maternity. Oh. My. God. This has to be the longest I ever stay in the hospital.
31 July
I was sent to the normal ward! Yippeeee! But I also had some trepidation as it was a C-class ward I was going to. My last experience in the C-class ward 8 years earlier was not pleasant. I was wheeled to Ward 34 and upon arrival, I was not greeted by any staff. Predictable, I thought. But, that was okay. I have already prepared myself for a care-less ward stay. I was just glad that I got a corner bed, Bed 16, not along the corridor and by the window. Behind me was a wall instead of a low partition separating each group of 6 beds. Some minutes later, Nurse Lisa came, introduced herself and asked me to give a urine sample. I did as was told and minded my own business at my bed.
It wasn't long before my impression of the C-class ward changed. During change of shifts, the nurses introduced themselves. The midwives made small talk with me and the nurses treated me like a person instead of just a digit. I actually felt comfortable there.
31 July to 7 August
The next week or so was a blur of excessive boredom. One boring day blended into the next and I learnt quite a few things about some groups of people which is of interest to some of my siblings who work in certain lines. Hur hur hur. I put my friendly self forward and got to know other long-stay patients. I did not want to get too close to those who just gave birth because they get discharged so quickly that it gets depressing when one person you develop a liking for leaves.
Throughout my stay, I was constantly visited by groups of doctors and medical students seeking interviews. It was reassuring that my case was looked into by so many doctors. Sometime during my stay, I was told that my delivery date (after I begged them) was pushed forward to 15 August. Hooray! One less week!
In the meantime, us antenatal cases were moved to another part of Ward 34 and so I found myself in Bed 9. My fellow neighbours in Bed 7 and 8 were also long-stayers like me and our due date were just days apart. The nurses called us the 35-weekers.
8 August
2am. There was a flurry of activity in Bed 8 and my neighbour was rushed to the Operating Theatre. 6am. She came back looking somewhat weak with a slightly smaller stomach. She delivered!
I had a chat with her on the way to the toilet to take my wudhu' for the morning prayers. She was initially concerned that the date her C-section was planned for was not a particularly good date. I congratulated her cos now her son had chosen a good date to be delivered. 8/8 which is extremely prosperous sounding to Chinese.
I went to the toilet, passed urine and saw blood. It was nowhere near the gush that I experienced more than a week earlier. I wondered if I should inform the nurses about this. Hmm. I shall wait, I thought. I took my wudhu', performed my prayers (while sitting on the bed which was how I performed all my prayers throughout my hospital stay), sent a message to my husband and sisters. I still was wondering if I should tell the nurses.
It all happened quickly. I clicked 'send' on my phone and off my message to my sisters went. Then, I decided to press the call button. A nurse came. I told the nurse. And before I could send another message, the porter was there to send me to the Delivery Suite.
On the way there, I saw Dr K T Tan and Dr Sim standing by the Operating Theatre. A roomful of doctors came by and Dr Shiphali and Dr Ann Wright said I would be delivered that very day, as planned earlier. What time, I asked? Should I ask my husband to come here? By 10 o'clock, the latest. I was told.
I informed TheHusband and he got off his train at Buona Vista and took the train back to Novena. (Will he even reach the hospital on time?)
In between sending messages to so many people, I decided that I had time to read Surah Al Kahfi. I had a feeling that by the time I finish reading the surah, that was when things would really happen. I had to stop reading many times to attend to messages, doctors coming in to get my consent for various things, nurses getting me ready etc.
The nurse attending to me had no help. It was at this point that TheHusband had taken the train instead of a taxi. The OT is calling, I kept hearing people telling the nurse. TheHusband was nowhere around. I haven't finished reading Al-Kahf. Husband still hasn't reached. I finished reading Al-Kahf. The porter came to wheel me away.
8 August. 9am.
The one needle I feared the most is the needle for the anaesthetic to numb the lower part of the body for C-section. I don't know why I fear it so much. Yes, it's long. But, I could only feel a prick before the numbing sensation set in. I don't know how long the pre-surgery preparation was. Possibly half an hour? After the anaesthesia kicked in, I was ready for the surgery.
A short while after it started, then doctors congratulated me. "It's a boy! Congratulations!" But I didn't hear any cries. The anaesthetist who became my BFF during the surgery told me not to worry when I asked him about it. He said the baby doctor would settle it. Some time later, I heard cries and I felt relieved. A nurse came by showing me Ihsan. She brought Ihsan to my face so I could kiss him. Be a good Muslim, I whispered to him. And off he went.
----
With Huda and Farah, the arrival of the child was the climax of the story.
After that, it was just time to stitch up and go.
Unfortunately, with this surgery, it was like a scene from ER. I was given jabs after jabs and I heard doctors asking me to be given this medicine and that. I had three drip plugs on my arms and all three are active with various stuff poured into me. I could only feel jabs on my shoulder but I could not feel the jabs on my thighs.
I was feeling sleepy but my BFF did not allow me to sleep. He told me, you are losing a lot of blood. That was one of the things I was told might happen. They had 4 pints of blood on standby for me throughout my stay.
Later on, I would find out that I did not have placenta accreta and the loss of blood was due to something-I-still-cannot-comprehend. Hysterectomy would be an option but they could not do that as they realised, upon opening me up, my bladder was stuck to the womb.
I was beginning to feel really foggy at that point and I tried to stay alert because I am a kepoh by nature and I must know what was happening at all times.
At some point in time, the surgery ended.
I heard the doctors saying that I was going to the ICU. I asked my BFF and he confirmed that I was indeed going to ICU. Why, I asked? You lost a lot of blood. 1.2 litres of blood, he said. At that point, I didn't realise how much 1.2 litres of blood was. I thought we had many many litres of blood in us and 1.2 litres is not significant amount. I later learnt that a woman of about my height and weight has about 3.3 litres of blood. And in a surgery, a loss of 500ml of blood is considered a huge loss. And then, my mother put it in perspective. 1.2 litres of blood could fill one huge PET bottle. Oh.
8 August. 11.45am.
I was sent to the ICU and I was extremely foggy by then. I wanted to sleep but the nurses kept on slapping my face (gently) to wake me up. I had no control of my bottom half and was shivering uncontrollably. TheHusband came in but I was too drugged up to realise what he was saying. He showed me photos of Ihsan and I could only smile weakly at them. If I smiled at all. A couple of doctors came in and told me that the surgery went well. I tried so hard to focus and understand what they were saying but I was too drowsy to comprehend much. It was only a day later that I managed to piece together enough to understand how the surgery went.
TheHusband went off for his Friday prayers. When he came back later, he brought bad news. Ihsan was in NICU because he had breathing issues. Oh no no nooo.. I had the steroid jabs to strengthen his lungs. His lungs should be mature enough. We were just 2 days short of Week 36. He's not that premature, my mind screamed. But the after effects of the surgery meant that I only had enough energy to nod at TheHusband.
I spent the rest of the day and night sleeping and staring out of the window. The ICU has a pretty view. And in the glass reflection on the building's facade, I looked at cars going from one window pane to another. The view was hypnotic and I didn't even miss my mobile phone which had been my constant companion throughout my stay there.
9 August
I was less drowsy but still in much pain. I could barely sit up but I was glad when one plug drip after another was switched off and pulled out of my arm. In the evening, I was sent to the Post-Operative Area and the next morning, I was sent back to Ward 34.
10 August
Going back to Ward 34 was like going back home. Delivery Suite, ICU and POA were pleasant enough but Ward 34 with all the familiar nurses and patients was like home. It was heartwarming when the nurses and midwives stopped by my bed and said hello.
It was a Sunday and H & F had joined their cousins for Hari Raya visits. So TheHusband was my companion for the entire day.
12 noon. Afternoon visitation hours for NICU came.
Another thing that made me fearful of C-section is the pains of the first step. To go to NICU, I had to get out of bed and walk to the wheelchair. With help from TheHusband and a nurse, I managed to make those few steps to the wheelchair.
10 August, NICU
Ihsan.
There he was, attached to tubes and wires. My heart broke. But, I know that everything will be okay. Eventually. I was not allowed to carry him so I could only look at him and touch him. In some ways, I was grateful that I had experienced something similar with Huda so at least, there were areas that I could prepare myself for.
But still, I was a wreck. I was just so emotional; I felt so pained by all that he was going through.
12 August
About 10am, I received a call from NICU.
Earlier they had removed the breathing tube from Ihsan but in the morning, he had turned blue and his oxygen level was low. They did not understand why that happened so they wanted to do a spinal tap to rule out infections as well as a scan of his heart.
I was beside myself with grief. There I was, sobbing away as I sent messages to TheHusband and sisters.
I could not wait for TheHusband to come in the evening to take me to NICU and so I asked to be sent there at noon. As luck would have it, the scanning team was there and so I had the results immediately. I was given relatively better news. The problem was the foetal duct between the walls of his heart had not closed. In most infants, this duct would close on its own a few hours after birth. But for him, it was taking much longer.Ever an optimist, I was sure that the hole would close soon and therefore, my tears and incessant worries in the past 3 hours or so were completely unnecessary. Thank you, Allah.
18 August
Ihsan was discharged. Alhamdulillah.
Thus began my career as a mother of three.
(Psssst... finally finished writing this on October 23. Hm.)
28 July 2014
Hari Raya.
First day of Hari Raya is usually the mildest for me. We'd go to the mosque to perform our special Hari Raya prayers, go home for a short spell, then to my mom's, to my SIL's and finally to my FIL's. This year, thanks to TheHusband's NS-going nephew who had to report back to camp by 10pm, we ended the visiting much earlier, at around 8pm instead of the usual 10pm.
So, back home we went. After getting all items for work and school ready for the next day, TheHusband and I turned in at around 11pm. As always, it was a restless sleep for me. In the final stages of pregnancy, all women complain of the same thing: no sleep position is ever comfortable. What I normally do after turning this way and that multiple times is to move to Alternative B: the sofa in the living room. When that fails to bring me my much-needed sleep, Alternative C is the extra bed in the kids' room. So, I migrated to the sofa and sleep came soon enough.
29 July 2014, 3.15am
I woke up feeling some pulsing sensations down below and with every pulse, out came some fluids. I thought it was heavy discharge. I touched my bottoms and it felt wet. Could this be blood, I thought. I switched on the light - I honestly do not know how I did it, considering that so much blood was coming out but I did.
There was blood on the throw which we used on the sofa. And as I stood up to look at the damage, more blood gushed out.
I called out for TheHusband, loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that it would cause an alarm. Thankfully, he responded the second time. I remember being so calm at this stage. I told him, calmly, "I am now bleeding. KK's number is on the fridge. Can you call the hospital and find out what we are supposed to do? I am going to take a shower and if I have to go to the hospital, I'll call my parents later to tell them we are depositing H & F over there."
All the while, blood was running down my legs.
I grabbed the throw, revealing blood-soaked cushions underneath the throwp. I used the throw to stem the flow of the blood so that I would not be dripping blood on the way to the bathroom.
As I showered, more blood gushed out. TheHusband, following my instructions, took some pads (thank God I had not chucked them out when I found myself pregnant!) and the work pants that I had prepared. After the shower, I got dressed and sat down on some towels and made the call to my parents. The first call to the home number went unanswered and the second call to my sister's phone went unanswered too. I called the home number again and this time, my sister picked it up.
In the meantime, TheHusband started stripping the cushion off its covers and dumped the covers in the washing machine together with loads of VanishO2 (not paid for this product placement ad).
My sister informed my parents and according to her, my parents literally jumped out of bed. My mother has always been a bit worried about my pregnancies because of the difficulties I faced in my previous pregnancies. Receiving calls like this in the wee hours of the morning was something she feared.
My sister called again to say that my father would be fetching the girls. The girls woke up without much of a fuss and when my sister appeared at the door, they followed her. My parents, thinking that we were calling an ambulance (I did not; I was just planning on calling a taxi), then got us out of the house and took us to KK.
29 July 2014, 4.30am
At KK. We had to decide on a ward class. I wanted KT Tan to continue being my doctor so I initially opted for the lowest private class - B1. But even with B1, the admin office said that seeing that the baby was premature, I would expect to pay about $50,000 in hospital bills. No way jose. So, I settled for the cheapest subsidized class, C, and left the rest to Allah.
The doctors soon came and I was categorized in the high risk group. Besides being a confirmed placenta praevia major case, I was also a 'suspicious placenta accreta' patient. Placenta accreta is a condition (in my layman's terms) in which the uterus is stuck to the old C-section wounds. At birth, the placenta is supposed to come out on its own after the baby is born but in this case, the placenta had to be pried out and it might cause some heavy bleeding. I was told that if this is indeed placenta accreta, the way the delivery is approached would be very different. First, the incision will not be a horizontal incision at the bikini line. But it is a vertical incision starting from below the ribs. Prior to the birth, I would have to have a surgery to insert some catheter/balloon-thing from my thighs so as to stop the expected heavy bleeding during the birth. They may have to remove my womb during the surgery if they couldn't stop the bleeding and I may need a stay in ICU after the birth.
I wanted KT Tan to continue treating me and as my good luck (somewhat strange to call it this considering the circumstances) would have it, despite being a subsidised patient, KT Tan was in the team of doctors who treated me. As a high risk patient, not only do I have my preferred doctor, I also had a team of doctors and professors looking into my case.
30 July 2014
The first 2 days were filled with worries and fears. I had an MRI scan and 3 ultrasound scans, the second and third attended by the head of the OB/GYN department himself. I didn't have to worry about quality of care as a C-class patient.
Groups of doctors came to explain my situation to me. I got the idea of how grave a situation I was in. All of them warned me that death was a likely scenario. I had reached the point of leaving everything in the hands of God. If I were to die, it is not something that I could avoid. I wrote a simple will for my husband to execute in the event of my death. In Islam, I can will away up to 1/3 of my estate in whichever way I want but a minimum of 2/3 must be given away according to faraidh law. (If you are interested to know who will inherit your property, check out the faraidh calculator on MUIS' website.)
As my situation was still uncertain and I could be wheeled to the Operation Theatre at any time, I was not allowed any food. Throughout the pregnancy, I was eating 6 meals a day, except during Ramadhan of course when I miraculously could withstand the hunger. On the first day, I was only allowed to eat close to 7pm. Considering that my last meal was at 8pm the previous day, I was completely famished by then. Every doctor or nurse who came in after 4pm was asked the same question, "Can I eat now?" While I understood why I could not be given food, my stomach couldn't take it! Eventually, the combination of hunger plus missing my daughters and the worries I had made me break down in tears when a doctor asked me how I was. "Why are you crying?" she asked. "I'm so hungry," I answered. And I immediately got my dinner.
The next day was the same. I was not allowed any food. It was only around dinner time when they were sure that I was not going to bleed anymore did they allow me food. By that time, I was sure I could fast in Iceland, the land of 23 hours of daytime, if I had to.
All the scans also showed that my condition was 'mild' which in medicine-speak, means that it might be an accreta, it might not be one. But, I was told that I must stay at the hospital until I deliver. The plan was for me to deliver on 22 August, sometime after I hit Week 37. 3 weeks away. Oh. My. God. 3 weeks stuck in the hospital followed by at least 3 days post-maternity. Oh. My. God. This has to be the longest I ever stay in the hospital.
31 July
I was sent to the normal ward! Yippeeee! But I also had some trepidation as it was a C-class ward I was going to. My last experience in the C-class ward 8 years earlier was not pleasant. I was wheeled to Ward 34 and upon arrival, I was not greeted by any staff. Predictable, I thought. But, that was okay. I have already prepared myself for a care-less ward stay. I was just glad that I got a corner bed, Bed 16, not along the corridor and by the window. Behind me was a wall instead of a low partition separating each group of 6 beds. Some minutes later, Nurse Lisa came, introduced herself and asked me to give a urine sample. I did as was told and minded my own business at my bed.
It wasn't long before my impression of the C-class ward changed. During change of shifts, the nurses introduced themselves. The midwives made small talk with me and the nurses treated me like a person instead of just a digit. I actually felt comfortable there.
31 July to 7 August
The next week or so was a blur of excessive boredom. One boring day blended into the next and I learnt quite a few things about some groups of people which is of interest to some of my siblings who work in certain lines. Hur hur hur. I put my friendly self forward and got to know other long-stay patients. I did not want to get too close to those who just gave birth because they get discharged so quickly that it gets depressing when one person you develop a liking for leaves.
Throughout my stay, I was constantly visited by groups of doctors and medical students seeking interviews. It was reassuring that my case was looked into by so many doctors. Sometime during my stay, I was told that my delivery date (after I begged them) was pushed forward to 15 August. Hooray! One less week!
In the meantime, us antenatal cases were moved to another part of Ward 34 and so I found myself in Bed 9. My fellow neighbours in Bed 7 and 8 were also long-stayers like me and our due date were just days apart. The nurses called us the 35-weekers.
8 August
2am. There was a flurry of activity in Bed 8 and my neighbour was rushed to the Operating Theatre. 6am. She came back looking somewhat weak with a slightly smaller stomach. She delivered!
I had a chat with her on the way to the toilet to take my wudhu' for the morning prayers. She was initially concerned that the date her C-section was planned for was not a particularly good date. I congratulated her cos now her son had chosen a good date to be delivered. 8/8 which is extremely prosperous sounding to Chinese.
I went to the toilet, passed urine and saw blood. It was nowhere near the gush that I experienced more than a week earlier. I wondered if I should inform the nurses about this. Hmm. I shall wait, I thought. I took my wudhu', performed my prayers (while sitting on the bed which was how I performed all my prayers throughout my hospital stay), sent a message to my husband and sisters. I still was wondering if I should tell the nurses.
It all happened quickly. I clicked 'send' on my phone and off my message to my sisters went. Then, I decided to press the call button. A nurse came. I told the nurse. And before I could send another message, the porter was there to send me to the Delivery Suite.
On the way there, I saw Dr K T Tan and Dr Sim standing by the Operating Theatre. A roomful of doctors came by and Dr Shiphali and Dr Ann Wright said I would be delivered that very day, as planned earlier. What time, I asked? Should I ask my husband to come here? By 10 o'clock, the latest. I was told.
I informed TheHusband and he got off his train at Buona Vista and took the train back to Novena. (Will he even reach the hospital on time?)
In between sending messages to so many people, I decided that I had time to read Surah Al Kahfi. I had a feeling that by the time I finish reading the surah, that was when things would really happen. I had to stop reading many times to attend to messages, doctors coming in to get my consent for various things, nurses getting me ready etc.
The nurse attending to me had no help. It was at this point that TheHusband had taken the train instead of a taxi. The OT is calling, I kept hearing people telling the nurse. TheHusband was nowhere around. I haven't finished reading Al-Kahf. Husband still hasn't reached. I finished reading Al-Kahf. The porter came to wheel me away.
8 August. 9am.
The one needle I feared the most is the needle for the anaesthetic to numb the lower part of the body for C-section. I don't know why I fear it so much. Yes, it's long. But, I could only feel a prick before the numbing sensation set in. I don't know how long the pre-surgery preparation was. Possibly half an hour? After the anaesthesia kicked in, I was ready for the surgery.
A short while after it started, then doctors congratulated me. "It's a boy! Congratulations!" But I didn't hear any cries. The anaesthetist who became my BFF during the surgery told me not to worry when I asked him about it. He said the baby doctor would settle it. Some time later, I heard cries and I felt relieved. A nurse came by showing me Ihsan. She brought Ihsan to my face so I could kiss him. Be a good Muslim, I whispered to him. And off he went.
----
With Huda and Farah, the arrival of the child was the climax of the story.
After that, it was just time to stitch up and go.
Unfortunately, with this surgery, it was like a scene from ER. I was given jabs after jabs and I heard doctors asking me to be given this medicine and that. I had three drip plugs on my arms and all three are active with various stuff poured into me. I could only feel jabs on my shoulder but I could not feel the jabs on my thighs.
I was feeling sleepy but my BFF did not allow me to sleep. He told me, you are losing a lot of blood. That was one of the things I was told might happen. They had 4 pints of blood on standby for me throughout my stay.
Later on, I would find out that I did not have placenta accreta and the loss of blood was due to something-I-still-cannot-comprehend. Hysterectomy would be an option but they could not do that as they realised, upon opening me up, my bladder was stuck to the womb.
I was beginning to feel really foggy at that point and I tried to stay alert because I am a kepoh by nature and I must know what was happening at all times.
At some point in time, the surgery ended.
I heard the doctors saying that I was going to the ICU. I asked my BFF and he confirmed that I was indeed going to ICU. Why, I asked? You lost a lot of blood. 1.2 litres of blood, he said. At that point, I didn't realise how much 1.2 litres of blood was. I thought we had many many litres of blood in us and 1.2 litres is not significant amount. I later learnt that a woman of about my height and weight has about 3.3 litres of blood. And in a surgery, a loss of 500ml of blood is considered a huge loss. And then, my mother put it in perspective. 1.2 litres of blood could fill one huge PET bottle. Oh.
8 August. 11.45am.
I was sent to the ICU and I was extremely foggy by then. I wanted to sleep but the nurses kept on slapping my face (gently) to wake me up. I had no control of my bottom half and was shivering uncontrollably. TheHusband came in but I was too drugged up to realise what he was saying. He showed me photos of Ihsan and I could only smile weakly at them. If I smiled at all. A couple of doctors came in and told me that the surgery went well. I tried so hard to focus and understand what they were saying but I was too drowsy to comprehend much. It was only a day later that I managed to piece together enough to understand how the surgery went.
TheHusband went off for his Friday prayers. When he came back later, he brought bad news. Ihsan was in NICU because he had breathing issues. Oh no no nooo.. I had the steroid jabs to strengthen his lungs. His lungs should be mature enough. We were just 2 days short of Week 36. He's not that premature, my mind screamed. But the after effects of the surgery meant that I only had enough energy to nod at TheHusband.
I spent the rest of the day and night sleeping and staring out of the window. The ICU has a pretty view. And in the glass reflection on the building's facade, I looked at cars going from one window pane to another. The view was hypnotic and I didn't even miss my mobile phone which had been my constant companion throughout my stay there.
9 August
I was less drowsy but still in much pain. I could barely sit up but I was glad when one plug drip after another was switched off and pulled out of my arm. In the evening, I was sent to the Post-Operative Area and the next morning, I was sent back to Ward 34.
10 August
Going back to Ward 34 was like going back home. Delivery Suite, ICU and POA were pleasant enough but Ward 34 with all the familiar nurses and patients was like home. It was heartwarming when the nurses and midwives stopped by my bed and said hello.
It was a Sunday and H & F had joined their cousins for Hari Raya visits. So TheHusband was my companion for the entire day.
12 noon. Afternoon visitation hours for NICU came.
Another thing that made me fearful of C-section is the pains of the first step. To go to NICU, I had to get out of bed and walk to the wheelchair. With help from TheHusband and a nurse, I managed to make those few steps to the wheelchair.
10 August, NICU
Ihsan.
There he was, attached to tubes and wires. My heart broke. But, I know that everything will be okay. Eventually. I was not allowed to carry him so I could only look at him and touch him. In some ways, I was grateful that I had experienced something similar with Huda so at least, there were areas that I could prepare myself for.
But still, I was a wreck. I was just so emotional; I felt so pained by all that he was going through.
12 August
About 10am, I received a call from NICU.
Earlier they had removed the breathing tube from Ihsan but in the morning, he had turned blue and his oxygen level was low. They did not understand why that happened so they wanted to do a spinal tap to rule out infections as well as a scan of his heart.
I was beside myself with grief. There I was, sobbing away as I sent messages to TheHusband and sisters.
I could not wait for TheHusband to come in the evening to take me to NICU and so I asked to be sent there at noon. As luck would have it, the scanning team was there and so I had the results immediately. I was given relatively better news. The problem was the foetal duct between the walls of his heart had not closed. In most infants, this duct would close on its own a few hours after birth. But for him, it was taking much longer.Ever an optimist, I was sure that the hole would close soon and therefore, my tears and incessant worries in the past 3 hours or so were completely unnecessary. Thank you, Allah.
18 August
Ihsan was discharged. Alhamdulillah.
Thus began my career as a mother of three.
(Psssst... finally finished writing this on October 23. Hm.)
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Week 33
My belly is huge. I feel heavy although my weight has not increased by much.
TheBoy is very active, kicking and making his presence felt all the time. In the past, the girls will just tap gently to inform me that they are in there. But TheBoy is difrent.
At the last check up at Week 32, his estimated size is between 2 - 2.1kg. The placenta hasn't moved up. The sonographer said it's not likely to go up but the gynae will wait for Week 34 before making any pronouncements. If it doesn't go up, a C-section will happen anytime after I hit Week 37, which is anytime after 18 August.
Hari Raya is this weekend, and as always, we are not ready. I've given away our 8-year-old living room curtains. That was in May. And I was supposed to look for some light day curtains but until today, I haven't even started looking. I really like my curtainless window. The view is beautiful. But, lessons in Housekeeping 101 says that there must be some kind of window dressing for the windows. Aiyaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...
Most of the Raya unreadiness is related to housekeeping issues. Curtains for living room. Bring down and clean and put up curtains in other rooms. Wash and change bedsheets. Organise kids' bookshelves. (Problem: Too many books; Additional problem: More books keep on appearing in the house.) Get plastic sheet for dining table. Clean the toilets. Clean window grills and sills. (Gonna cry now.)
TheHusband has gone back to work. It was a good almost-1.5 years of him not working. And when I became pregnant, it was even better having him around. He did all the cooking and housework (except vacuuming; he claimed his feet could not feel any dust.) I went to work and then became a vegetable upon my return. With him back at work, house chores is once again divided (though not equally, given my present condition) but I do wish he was still a stay-at-home-dad cos he could settle all the housework issues!
I'm feeling excessively sleepy now.
The pregnancy has made sleep difficult and as much as I know that I should sleep, I could not. So, the sleepy bug attacks me at all odd hours. Mostly when I'm in the staff room working away. But, never in class. Strange, right? There's also some kind of queasiness going on now. I always have the urge to vomit but when I do, it's mostly phlegm and saliva.
Gonna catch forty winks now.
Tata!
TheBoy is very active, kicking and making his presence felt all the time. In the past, the girls will just tap gently to inform me that they are in there. But TheBoy is difrent.
At the last check up at Week 32, his estimated size is between 2 - 2.1kg. The placenta hasn't moved up. The sonographer said it's not likely to go up but the gynae will wait for Week 34 before making any pronouncements. If it doesn't go up, a C-section will happen anytime after I hit Week 37, which is anytime after 18 August.
Hari Raya is this weekend, and as always, we are not ready. I've given away our 8-year-old living room curtains. That was in May. And I was supposed to look for some light day curtains but until today, I haven't even started looking. I really like my curtainless window. The view is beautiful. But, lessons in Housekeeping 101 says that there must be some kind of window dressing for the windows. Aiyaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...
Most of the Raya unreadiness is related to housekeeping issues. Curtains for living room. Bring down and clean and put up curtains in other rooms. Wash and change bedsheets. Organise kids' bookshelves. (Problem: Too many books; Additional problem: More books keep on appearing in the house.) Get plastic sheet for dining table. Clean the toilets. Clean window grills and sills. (Gonna cry now.)
TheHusband has gone back to work. It was a good almost-1.5 years of him not working. And when I became pregnant, it was even better having him around. He did all the cooking and housework (except vacuuming; he claimed his feet could not feel any dust.) I went to work and then became a vegetable upon my return. With him back at work, house chores is once again divided (though not equally, given my present condition) but I do wish he was still a stay-at-home-dad cos he could settle all the housework issues!
I'm feeling excessively sleepy now.
The pregnancy has made sleep difficult and as much as I know that I should sleep, I could not. So, the sleepy bug attacks me at all odd hours. Mostly when I'm in the staff room working away. But, never in class. Strange, right? There's also some kind of queasiness going on now. I always have the urge to vomit but when I do, it's mostly phlegm and saliva.
Gonna catch forty winks now.
Tata!
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