My first birth experience

A friend recommended sharing my birth experience. I guess every woman’s experience of birth is unique, but perhaps as a lesson for inexperienced mothers-to-be, I hope something can be learned from my experience. So guys, sorry if this entry is not quite up to your mmm… liking.

I started staining 2 nights before I gave birth. But there was no accompanying pain. I’d experienced mild contractions before, so I was sure that it wasn’t time yet. However, the next day my auntie (I was staying at Putrajaya, at my uncle’s place) insisted on having a doctor to take a look at it, well “just in case you have an opening and you do not realize it”. We went to the hospital where I was told that the opening was so small that only the baby’s hair could pass through. The doctor predicted that I would give birth after maybe 3 to 5 days.

The doctor’s prediction was far from true. That very night, I began feeling some contractions. Making the most of my before “pantang” time, I enjoyed a game of Scrabble with my cousins while stuffing myself with a quarter tub of La Cremeria ice-cream (Kakaq – I fell in love with La Cremeria ice cream after you introduced it to me). The contractions became stronger sometime in early morning and by 8.00 a.m., I noticed a steady flow of longer contractions which occurred about every 5 minutes. However, wanting to believe that it could be mere false alarm because somehow I was hoping that baby would wait for the father to come home, (and hubby was supposed to return that day) I waited and the contractions seemed to lessen a bit by 9.00 a.m. Nevertheless, by 10.00 a.m., I knew that I had to go to the hospital and asked Ayah (who, together with Mak, had been around since the previous evening after I returned from the hospital for the check-up) to send me there.

Ayah took a long time getting ready – it was 11.00 a.m. when we actually made our move. By then, I was really in pain that I simply refused to sit down when asked to do so by the nurse. I found walking able to lessen the pain. The nurse on duty took my blood pressure reading, checked my weight, even asked me to lie down to get a CTG reading (to check the baby’s heartbeat). Luckily, it wasn’t long when the doctor came to check on me. She checked my opening and told me that I was already 4cm dilated. Then she got my water broken. The dilation immediately grew to 8cm and already there was some rupture. So she asked the nurse to get me to a labour room pronto – it was time.

Then, everything happened so quickly. I was quickly wheeled to another room and asked to put on the birthing garment. The nurse asked me if I wanted to pass motion first but there was no time for it already. The next thing I knew, I was pushing. I remember somebody asking me if I would like to have my husband with me. Yes, very much so, thank you, but unfortunately, at that particular time he was still in Terengganu. It all happened so quickly that I did not even manage to let him know that I was going to the labour room. Baby was already too impatient to get out and see the world. As it happened, hubby only got to meet and hold baby for the first time about 12 hours after he was born.

I remember there were a few nurses around who were sort of cheering me on, encouraging me and praising me for my effort in pushing. I planned on attending an ante-natal class but never found the time to do so, so I really appreciated that I got a crash on-hand course on the technique of pushing. “Tarik nafas panjang-panjang…Push…. Push terus…. Curi nafas sikit, sambung push…Lagi… Push terus… Macam tu… Pandai… Lagi… Push terus..”

At one time when I was supposed to push, the nurse made a cut, but I wasn’t pushing so ouch – that really hurt… I actually pushed her hand away. She reprimanded me – “Puan, saya nak sambut anak puan ni, jangan la tolak tangan saya” Opppss sorry, that was my reflexes, rather than me acting on rational thoughts.

But like I’ve said before – it was quite easy (compared to many horror stories I’ve heard about first birth experience). I entered the labour room at 11.35a.m. and by 11.52a.m., my baby was safely delivered, alhamdulillah.

The nurse showed me the wrinkled-and-red-baby’s genital and asked me to pronounce whether it was a boy or girl. Initially hubby and I both hoped for a boy, but we had been told that it was going to be a girl when we went to a scan when I was in my 6th month of pregnancy. Apart from that, a lot of people had predicted me to get a girl based on the classic symptoms (tummy was small and more oblong like a watermelon instead of rounding like a ball, had a bad case of nausea and vomiting throughout the whole nine months, had more break-outs than usual, etc) So, we prepared ourselves for the arrival of a girl. In fact, I’d already even bought some bigger dresses in advance to be brought to Japan.

Imagine my joy and surprise when I saw that it was a boy. “It’s a boy!”, or so I exclaimed in wonder. Which made one of the nurses asked me, “Kenapa bunyi macam terkejut?” “Masa scan, doktor kata perempuan”, I explained. The nurse who held the baby and asked me to pronounce my baby’s gender assured me that it was a boy alright. She could tell from my expression that I was too delighted beyond words to learn that I gave birth to a boy after all. I was given a minute together with him after the nurse checked his vital signals, as he was laid on my chest, still red and quivering, just before he was cleaned. And my mind just went “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…My baby is a boy…”

The nurse who cleaned my baby noticed a pair of pink jumpsuit in the bag I brought for the baby and teased me, asking me to keep the pink stuff for the baby’s future sister, maybe in two years time. And I just grinned in response, thinking how happy hubby would be to learn that we got a boy after all, just like we’d initially wished for.

Then my baby was taken to the waiting hall to be introduced to the waiting family. So, Ayah got the honour of calling the azan to my baby first since hubby was not around to do so. Later, my father-in-law got the honour of giving baby’s first tahnik (feeding the baby with a small mixture of zam-zam water, honey and tiny bits of dates). The nurse who brought him out to Ayah commented that the azan was one of the loudest ever in the waiting hall. Well, that’s Ayah – guess that was how he expressed his thankfulness of getting his first grandchild.

I had my first proper, quiet, one-on-one moment with baby about an hour after delivery, after the nurses had worked on getting the placenta out and stitched the perineum cut and tear. I was so thankful that breastfeeding came easily for both of us. Even the nurse who presented the baby to me noted that, as she told me that some mothers find it difficult to breastfeed for the first time due to inverted nipple or the baby do not know how to suck correctly. But with baby and me, it happened so naturally easy. It was almost as if he knew that he only had 11 days with me before he could stop feeding on me, so he had to make the most out of it.

Oh my – that first moment, the first time I was able to hold him close in reality after carrying him inside me for nine months – it was pure heaven. There is nothing quite as unique – the feeling of joy, wonder, thankfulness all mixed up together. I even tried to shut my awareness that I had only 11 days before I was going to leave him, just so that I could enjoy our first moments together more. I lied on one side, feeding him, and all wrapped up in taking note of his features – his innocent huge black eyes, his tiny long fingers(like that famous Bollywood heartthrob Hritrik Roshan, my baby has a dual right thumb – so in his case he could even raise three thumbs up!) his soft dark hair, his birth mark, and all.

Then, the painful experience began.

Well, I felt really hungry after delivery. Partly because everything that I ate that morning all came out as I kept vomiting back whatever I ate – bread, calcium crackers, a mug if Milo. My auntie was very concerned, of course, telling me that I was going to need all the energy to push. It’s not like I refused to eat, only that what I ate refused to remain inside. So, yes, I was really famished when I thought it was all over. I thought I would be wheeled to the ward just in time for lunch to be served.

But apparently, it was far from over.

The Kelantanese, 27-year-old nurse who did the initial stitches came to check on me. There was a blood clot on my left labia, so, she opened the stitches and I could feel and saw some blood smattering on her white plastic apron. She left for a while and came back with another more senior nurse. They discussed the tear that the junior nurse was having problem stitching since my natural tear happened on top of a vein and the senior nurse advised her to stitch it in another manner.

It didn’t work. The blood clot remained and when she pressed, it hurt. They then consulted the doctor (who broke my water and supervised the labour for a short while). She asked the nurse to re-open the stitches. This time, when the stitches were re-opened, I could feel some blood flow, but at least it did not splashed out like it did earlier. The doctor put a gauge on the tear, and decided that if the blood stop flowing, then no stitches would be necessary there.

After a while, it began to hurt even more that I had to shout for a nurse to come and check on me. The doctor came and realized that the swell had only worsened. So, she consulted another more senior doctor. After a little probing, they came to agree that the haematoma needed the attention of Ah Chan. When the doctors left, I asked a nurse who Ah Chan is, and was told that he’s a specialist for haematoma and hemorrhaging cases. Up till then, those who had been involved in the process were all women, so realizing that a male doctor would be coming, I asked for my tudung. By now I was experiencing a lot of pain because all the procedures up till then had been conducted without anesthetic.

Then Dr Chan arrived and he took a look at the haematoma and explained to me that he was going to open all the stitches and re-do them all over again, but this time I would be put under sedatives. The nurses put some IV drip on my left hand and injected me with some anesthetic on my right hand and I was asked to wear the laughing gas mask before I passed out. The laughing gas brought great relief because by then anything that could take my mind away from all the pain was very much welcomed. But I remembered before passing out, Dr Chan scolded the nurses for not notifying him right away after the first incident of haematoma. Yeay – at least somebody had the mind to do that because honestly, I felt angry too being probed and having the stitches opened and re-done several time without anesthetic.

I woke up a couple of hours later, feeling drowsy yet still very hungry and thirsty. A nurse checked on me and asked if I would like to feed my baby again, to which I said yes. Somehow, holding and feeding my baby was very therapeutic, took my mind away from my own feeling of hunger.

Dr Chan came to check on me after that and he seemed very pleased with the development as the swollen seemed to lessen a bit. He then asked me about what course I’m going to take in Japan. Which really took me by surprise, so I asked back, who told him about me going to Japan. “You did, when you were under sedatives”. Oh, I see… Later, I was told by Mak that according to him, I ranted about going to Japan and my worries of leaving the baby while he conducted the minor surgery, so he knew that it must had been on top of my mind at that moment.

Finally, I was sent to the ward at around 6.30 p.m., over six hours after I gave birth, where else normally, new mothers are sent to the ward about two hours after delivery.

Well, I just hope that if anybody else has any case of labial haematoma, the nurse will be asked to immediately consult the specialist doctor for it. While my experience of giving birth was relatively easy – going through the several processes of the stitches being opened and re-stitched is something I hope could be spared from others.

Still, at the end of the day, getting Huzaifah was worth it.

21 days...

Huzaifah turns 3 weeks today.

Mak told me that he's so much bigger now than when I left him. Unfortunately at the moment I can't see how he's transformed because Abang hasn't install the webcam at home as I've requested.

Anyway, Mak said that they (Mak, Ayah& Huzaifah) are staying at Putrajaya, at an uncle's place, instead of Kampung Tunku, because my baby seems a lot more content and settled there. Ayah suspects that it has something to do with some supernatural presence - babies are supposed to be ultra sensitive to these stuff, so that could be the reason why Huzaifah seems easily disturbed at home.

He's growing well, or so I was assured by Mak. And his hair has started to grow too. He already had his head shaved before I left Malaysia. After a simple cukur jambul ceremony, hubby and I finished off the shaving process. I fed him as his father cut his fine hair off and later on shaved him until he was completely bald. The whole process took us about two hours, but it was rather easy for my hubby to shave him because he was not moving too much. And using a 3-layered sharp razor helped a lot.

Huzaifah had also been circumsised. Hubby insisted on that - so, Huzaifah was circumsised when he was just 4 days old. We did it at Kampung Baru Medical Centre and paid just RM130 for it. According to a cousin, the same procedure (plastic-bell?) costs a lot more at Hospital Tawakal or Pusrawi. I waited downstairs during the procedure - but Ayah was with him (hubby was in Terengganu) and Ayah said that he did not even flinched when the doctor circumsised him. But immediately after it was over, he wailed loudly. So, that was how he was presented to me by the nurses - wailing loudly, needing some comfort (and nursing) badly... Still, alhamdulillah, I'm glad we got it over and done with. An auntie told me that it's a lot more difficult to take care of a newly circumsised boy when they are a bit bigger - there's the pantang that we have to observe and the boy gets a bit reckless from not being able to move around like usual plus it hurts more. I didn't have to worry about any pantang - after all my baby only fed on milk.

I have yet to receive any latest photo of him, despite leaving my trustworthy Canon IXUS at home, so here are some 'old' photos taken on the day he had his cukur jambul ceremony...


Caught sleeping like his ibu - lying on one side - just before we woke him up for his bath.


He seemed okay with taking medicine (some antibiotic after the plastic-bell procedure)


The Tok Ayah (after whom we named him - Azmi is my father's kampung name) conducting the cukur jambul thing as baby was held by his father.


Done with cutting the hair off


Finally - totally bald. He seemed totally pleased with his new hair-do, heheheh...

Two guys...

... I love the most...



Missing home terribly much and has started counting the days until I get to be back with my family again...

Sorry for the long absence...

In the past month or so...

I had to move to a new office - where I was pushed from one department to another because nobody wanted an officer who could not serve for that long (since I was waiting to deliver and then had to go to Japan). I ended up being on pool at the Human Resource department of that particular office for about a month

I gave birth to a healthy baby boy weighing 3.03kg and 47cm in length at birth. After some consultation, we named him Muhammad Azmi Huzaifah. The birth was alhamdulillah, okay. I was admitted to the labour room at 11.35a.m. and Huzaifah was safely delivered at 11.52a.m. It was the after-delivery experience which hurt more - had a labial haematoma and my stitches had to be opened and re-opened several times before it was finally mended by a kind Dr Chan (who, by the way, learned about my going to Japan from me while I was under sedative...)

I left KL 11 days after I gave birth - which caused lots of concern among family and friends. Yam called me Perempuan Melayu Gila Terakhir for taking such a crazy move. But furthering one's study is also part of jihad, right?...

I arrived in Japan 3 days ago. Still adjusting to the weather, still adjusting to the new environment, still adjusting to being away from my newborn son (and the spilling milk from my bosoms are not making it any easier). I've met a few kind Malaysians and made some new friends at the Graduate School of Asia Pacific Studies in Waseda University too.

Will write more later, insya Allah.
By the way, here're some pictures of my precious baby...

Personality Meme

Okay, nobody asked me to complete this one, but I thought it's kinda interesting

So, here goes nothing

1. Nervous habits – resort to extra hand movements while talking or explaining things
2. Are you double jointed – No
3. Can you roll your tongue – No
4. Can you raise one eyebrow at a time – Not really, not the way The Rock could do it though
5. Can you blow spit bubbles – No
6. Can you cross your eyes - Yes
7. Tattoos – Have none and never will. Haraam maa…
8. Piercing – None
9. Do you make your bed daily - Yes - an old habit from boarding school

CLOTHES

10. Which shoe goes on first – Right
11. Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone? – Never
12. On the average, how much money do you carry - RM50 or less in the normal cash compartment of the wallet. But normally I have some extra RM50 tucked in some smaller compartment in the wallet or in the handbag
13. What jewellery do you wear 24/7 – Wedding and engagement rings – but not quite 24/7 because sometimes I forgot to put them back on in the morning. I’m not much of a jewellery person. Hubby has nothing to worry whenever we pass by Habib, Poh Kong, Wah Chan or Tomei outlets.
14. Favourite piece of clothing – Used to be my Puma maroon pair of corduroy jeans – oh-so-comfortable to wear. But hubby prohibits me from wearing it since he found it to be a tad fitting... Since I’ve also gotten rid of most of my Vietnamese suits, I don’t really have any favourite right now…

FOOD
15. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it - Twirl it
16. Have you ever eaten Spam – No
17. Do you use extra salt on your food – Occasionally when the food seems tasteless
18. How many cereals in your cabinet – Currently it’s Cookie Crisp. Often I opt for Koko Krunch or Gold Flakes, sometimes for any of Posts’ line-up.
19. What's your favourite beverage – Soya bean and plain water.
20. What's your favourite fast food restaurant – Used to be McDonald’s. And Burger King when I was in UK – I simply loved the Vegetarian Whopper back then. But I no longer frequent fast food restaurant that often nowadays.
21. Do you cook – Sometimes, but not much since I got pregnant. Used to love entertaining friends during Raya and birthdays, preparing my signature dishes of Mee Bandung or Mee Jawa along with Len chee kang and Mixed Fruit Trifle on the side.

GROOMING
22. How often do you brush your teeth – twice a day, in the morning & at night.
23. Hair drying method – With towel under the fan. Hairdryers damage my hair rather easily.
24. Have you ever coloured/highlighted your hair – Used to do some highlighting using balance from Mak’s dye after I finished applying the dye on her (using dyes that are not waterproof and approved with Halal sign). Was noticed by my sister-in-law when I was a newly-wed, who commented that only Muslim men going to war are allowed to dye their hair using henna so has never highlight my hair since then. By the way, she also made a fuss over my pair of hazel contact lenses (disposable pairs which I only wore during the month I got married) when my hubby was silent on it.

MANNERS
25. Do you swear – Almost never.
26. Do you ever spit – Only when I have to

FAVOURITE
27. Animal – Rabbit. Maybe because I was born in the year of Rabbit according to the Chinese calendar.
28. Food – Laksa, Chicken Rice, Tempura, Sushi.
29. Month – April/May – birthday months of many dear & close to me
30. Day – Raya
31. Cartoon – Samurai X, Kim Possible. A big fan of Transformers as a kid
32. Shoe brand – Hush Puppies, Bata (yes, they are cheap – but could be comfortable too)
33. Subject in school – History. Was really upset when I didn’t get distinction for it during SPM…
34. Colour – Shades of either Blue, Green or Purple
35. Sport – Ping-pong, Hockey. I love watching all kind of games (especially World Cups and Olympics) except for golf – inherit this habit from Mak, I guess.
36. TV shows – Fond of AXN stuff such as Alias, CSI and Lost yet also fond of girlie shows like Gilmore Girls and Desperate Housewives. Err, and not to mention all kind of Japanese dramas.
37. Thing to do in the spring – Breathing in the fresh air and enjoy the daffodils. Looking forward to enjoying the sakura in Japan.
38. Thing to do in the summer – Enjoy the tulips and summer fruits – strawberries, nectarines, peaches, apricots, etc.
39. Thing to do in the autumn – Walks in the park amidst all the colourful falling leaves
40. Thing to do in the winter – Enjoy the snow

IN AND AROUND
41. In the CD player – (or rather in the Real Player playlist) Quranic surahs and various nasyids. Sometimes alternated with J-pop songs by Hirai Ken, SMAP, Chemistry, Utada Hikaru etc.
42. Person you talk most on the phone with – Hubby
43. Reading – 1515 by Faisal Tehrani. Can’t wait to start on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince since Kit has agreed to loan it to me. Also re-reading Questions and Answers on Pregnancy.
44. Do you regularly check yourself out in store windows/mirrors – Not really.
45. What colour is your bedroom – Pink, but I would paint it lavender if I could
46. Do you use an alarm clock – Seldom.
47. Window seat or aisle – Window normally, I enjoy watching out of the window during take off and arrival.

DUMB
48. What's your sleeping position – Lying on one side
49. Even in hot weather do you use a blanket – Usually yes – another old habit from boarding school.
50. Do you snore - Sometimes, especially when I was too tired.
51. Do you sleepwalk – No
52. Do you talk in your sleep – Girls in my dorm when I was 16 swore I did just so once – but no other incidents had been reported since.
53. Do you sleep with stuffed animals – Sometimes.
54. How about with the light on – Yes. I can’t sleep properly in total darkness. Used to sleep under glaring fluorescent light, but now can handle sleeping with just a small dim blue bulb on
55. Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on – Could fall asleep anytime despite any noise going on if I was too tired. Actually I could fall asleep anywhere at anytime - most of my colleagues/classmates can testify to that, even during meetings and classes.
56. Last interesting person you met – Everyone's interesting in their own way, so can't say for sure.

So, now I'm passing this over to Kit, Kak Teh and Zyrin.

Heartfelt sympathy...

Dear Laila and Zul,

When I received the sms earlier today, I was perplexed. The message was short “Aisyah meninggal” but it made me wondered a hundred questions. Which Aisyah? Why? When?

So I called Laila up to ask for clarification. What I got was a heartbreaking answer in a broken voice – “Baby aku, Aisyah, meninggal. Ni aku nak pegi Hospital. Petang ni atau Maghrib nanti nak solat jenazah.”

I was speechless.

I’ve known how you have waited for a princess in the family. After a succession of three boisterous boys, Aisyah finally made a grand entrance in your life a few months back. I remember how happy you looked, Laila, cuddling a precious little sweet girl in your arms. You were delighted when I visited you not long after Aisyah’s birth and presented you with a pink towel. Yes, towels have became my trademark gift for your newborns, unlike others who often receive baby clothes from me.

I did not have the heart to ask you why Laila – it was shattering enough to listen to your voice quivering with pain and dismay as you told me that you were going to the hospital to get some things cleared up. So I only uttered the next cliché that came to my mind – be patient. Be strong. And quietly I added – my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family always.

Aisyah, being your first girl, was unique, special and irreplaceable. I know children are not interchangeable and the fact that you can have other children does not lessen the grief of losing her. I know that there is nothing to compare with the loss of an innocent child, and only those who have known such a tragedy can truly understand your sorrow. The pain that you are going through right now is beyond my comprehension. Though words may be meaningless right now, I hope and I pray that both of you will find some comfort in the love of family, the warmth of friends and the sympathy of all who care for you.

And may it be a source of inner strength to know that Allah, Most Loving, Most Merciful, is watching over you and your daughter and that throughout it all, as you keep on being patient, He’ll stay close by your side.

Dearest Laila, I'm here. You can call me any time of the day or night. I'll cry with you, I'll listen to you and I'll always have tissues.

Al-Fatihah…

Why it's better to be street smart

Tok is rather fond of telling others on how she has raised her kids to be successful and that most of them went overseas to study. What she missed telling others was that her eldest son who worked hard to send his siblings to study abroad had never been to a university himself.

Yes, Ayah, the eldest in the family, worked hard right after he left school to help the family. He’s always been a big believer in operating own business rather than makan gaji. So, never in his life had he ever worked for someone else, rather, he’s always been answerable only to himself. He saved a lot and worked hard to find scholarships for his siblings, so that they could study abroad (back in the 80’s, Ayah trusted the education system in UK and US more than any of those provided at the local U). But as for his own qualification – he only studied up to Higher School Certificate level (akin to A-Level or STPM) and never found time after that to pursue a degree.

My younger brother, Abang, had gone to a lot more learning institutions than I did. He could declare himself to be former student of UUM, UiTM, KDU and the latest, MMU. But he’d never graduated. I guess when it comes to making money, Abang is too much of Ayah’s son, so he simply could not wait to begin his own enterprise and earn his own money. I’m glad to share that despite never finishing his studies anywhere, Abang is now rather successful as a producer of a few TV series. Yes, it goes without saying that he earns a lot more than his sister who managed to graduate in law does. He owns quite an impressive animation studio and has a team of creative staff working under his supervision, and I guess that’s quite an achievement for someone below the age of 30.

A friend of hubby’s is a successful financial planner and has a remarkable client base. He stopped studying after form five. Instead, he has gone for a lot of short courses, armed himself with learning and improving his English, kept polishing his skills to influence others and win a lot of new friends along the way. He works hard, perseveres, keep on persevering until he reached the level of Manager and now has travelled to a lot more places around the world than most people. He still works hard and now earns a lot than hubby who not only owns a Bachelor’s degree, but also a Masters degree.

Yes, education is important. But education does not necessarily comes from book or proven by that particular piece of paper ones get after three or four years of slaving over books, thesis and exams. A person can educate himself by having the ability to learn things from life and from experiences. In fact, sometimes, it’s vital to be more a street smart person than simply a book smart person. Being street smart often means that one has good judgment on life situations, on other people, and on himself, thus one is more sensitive to the environment and quick to adapt to it.

And I guess those abilities often make a better man, a better survivor than those who are proud of owning a degree yet do not possess similar qualities. Not to mention - earning more too ;-)

New banner, new look

I know this is late - but I was away for the past few days; not feeling quite well for two days due to sore throat, running nose and some fever plus two non-working days. But the banner looks great, right? Done by Maknenek & installed by the Super Blur Makcik a.k.a. Kak Teh - I really owe these two wonderful ladies!! Arigatou gozaimasu!

Anyway - Look Again has been around for over a year, so please consider the banner as an attempt of a revamp of some sort. I'm thinking of making some changes on my links too - but am too busy right now to re-organise the blog template. Maybe someday... we'll see, insya Allah.

On PPS 2nd Anniversary, Internetkrasi, The Hijab and PJJ

Yeay! Today is the last working Saturday for Malaysian civil servants. I hope the government will retain this 5-days week policy for good. Aaammmiiiiinnnnn :-)

Anyway – I’ve been wanting to blog about so many things but somehow could not find enough time doing so, here’s a quick note on this and that: -

# Firstly, I think it’s not only appropriate, but almost necessary, to applaud Aiz for a job well done with PPS. Like so many other Malaysian bloggers, I am glad that I can rely on this blog-tal, not only to increase my own readership, but to enable me sneaking a peek at other people’s thoughts and views. In a way, PPS is almost akin to KL Sentral Station – where blogs with different voices, nuances and definitions all come together under one roof just like KTM trains, Komuter, Putra LRT and Monorail all congregate at Sentral… Happy belated 2nd birthday PPS and here’s wishing that you will live on and on and on...

# Then, there’s that recommendation by this blogger to err, write a memorandum on this issue. The so-called issue on misuse and abuse of the Internet by civil servant is rather close to my heart since I use the e-mail a lot not only for official uses but also to interact with friends and colleagues; I make a lot of friends and also keep in touch with both friends and family via Yahoo Messenger and I blog. And yes, I do receive lots of funny and not-so-funny video via the email as well as downloading stuff on my own. I’ll try to write more about this some day, insya Allah.

# Next, there was this heartfelt plea by this blogger on this issue that actually stirred something inside me to share my own experience. But then again, I guess since Ayah had trained me to wear tudung since I was eight and I actually started to wear tudung properly (as in – at school, after school and even at home whenever non-mahram visited) when I was about 11, I guess my story won’t be as interesting as those who actually has to find real courage and strength to don the hijab, like this girl. Still, at the end of the day, I guess I worry more about those who are already wearing the hijab but are not showing qualities as Muslim women… (those who wear tudung but don’t mind losing their virginity before marriage, wear tudung but matched with really sexy outfits, wear tudung but indulge in heavy petting at public places – the kind of girls who got written about in Mastika and covered in NTV7’s Edisi Siasat a while back)… The kind which make some people come out with remarks such as “baik tak payah pakai tudung…” I worry about them as I worry about the trials and tribulations the future generation have to face in maintaining their dignity and modesty as practising Malay Muslim women.

# Then, another note by this blogger also actually touched somewhere deep inside since currently hubby is a ‘monthly husband’ and we have been a long-distance couple since our first month of marriage. Come September, when I have to fly to Japan to pursue my masters degree in Waseda and leave both him and baby behind first (for him to finish his course and then to apply for unpaid leave and for baby to get all her required early immunisation shots), it’ll be about five or six months before we’ll get reunited. It’s going to be very difficult being away from both a newborn baby and hubby. But nobody said that it would be easy. Besides, I believe if both of us do what we have to do as in accordance to Allah’s plan for us, then we should not be sad neither should we feel afraid as He promises that He will be with those who are patient…

This old nasyid below by Suara Hati, as I got on e-mail this morning, somehow reminded me that for those who have to be apart from their loved ones for a long time, life could be sweeter when we remind ourselves that it’s all in Allah’s will, not ours.

PERTEMUAN BUKAN MILIK KITA

Pertemuan menghadiahkan kita kasih sayang
Jika cinta satu pasti bertemu ia tidak ternilai

Kerana antara hati kita
Telah tiada antaranya lagi
Yang ada hanya cinta kasih Ilahi

Kita berpisah hanya sementara
Kerana pertemuan bukan milik kita
Jasad dan suara berjauhan sentiasa
Namun cinta abadi

Biar terpisah selalu menderita
Kerana syurga menagih ujian
Sedang neraka dipagari oleh nikmat
Bertemu tidak jemu berpisah tak gelisah

Bicara kita adalah bicara sufi
Tanpa suara dan kata-kata
Kerana penghubung kita adalah suara hati
Bertemu berpisah kerana Allah

Lagu: Suara Hati
Lirik: Pahrol Mohd Juoi

Welcome to the mother's world

Wore the ‘uniform’ for the first time at work today and caught some attention for it. I’m nearing my seventh month and this morning was the first time my colleagues saw me in a maternity dress. It’s a typical dress - ankle length, long sleeved, one piece with some frills above the abdomen area. I must admit that it was quite difficult to find a ready-made dress that suits me since apparently affordable long sleeved, full length maternity dresses that could fit a 5’5” person are not that easily available. I bought two pairs earlier – but I found them to be a bit senteng, so I feel a bit reluctant to wear them to the office.

However, yesterday I was in luck as I found two nice pairs (similar patterns in different colours) that suit me well in Nilai 3. I don’t shop in Nilai 3 all that often, but I was in Bandar Seri Putra so I thought I might as well try looking in the nearby Nilai 3. Actually, right after work yesterday, I went to Bandar Seri Putra to bid my farewell & bon voyage to Masni and her husband Ayie before their departure to UK. Ayie is going to pursue his PhD in Cardiff – Masni’s former university. Masni has been one of my closest buddies since high school and we’ve always kept in touch all these years, so I really did not want to miss saying good bye this time around. I’ve known her whole family too and was pleased to meet them at Masni’s place as well as to sample her mother’s cooking. Since I missed lunch and was really famished by the time I arrived there, I was delighted to be served with all sort of nice food – bihun goreng, rice with assorted lauks, cucur peneram and nice preserved mangoes and buah kuini for dessert. Well, I supposed we all know how pregnant mothers can get excited about all these jeruk stuff, kan?

After bidding proper good bye - hugs, pats on tummy and all - I then moved on to Nilai 3. I went there with my 19-year old cousin Firdhaus, who acted as my consultant, as we went shop-hopping, looking for suitable wear. I liked some of the two-pieces on sale, however since they were mostly pants ( which I could not wear to work) and the skirts were short, I had no choice but to limit my selection on the one-piece long dresses. It was rather frustrating to note that the nicer ones always came in unsuitable designs for me – either they were short or ¾ sleeved or they were knee length. But then again, since I don’t feel like getting my maternity dress tailor-made, I have to settle for what’s available off the rack, so I made my two new purchases albeit accepting that they were a bit short on the back. Bought some loose blouses too, that can be paired with some pants or skirts. At least I can alternate between wearing the dresses and some blouses.

So, I wore my new dress this morning, peach coloured with a matching tudung.

Saliah, my colleague who had been insisting on me wearing the ‘uniform’ seemed really thrilled to finally see me in it and even asked me to parade it in front of her. So did Raihan, another mak buyung who’s in her eight month but had started wearing her ‘uniform’ a couple of months ago. Even my next door neighbour Mohana, who’s still recovering from some fever, could not help herself commenting on how obviously pregnant I look in the ‘uniform’ (all these while, they have been commenting on how small my bump is). Well, who could help but grinning at all those comments, huh?

I guess, putting on the maternity dress for the first time at work could be quite a memorable experience – especially when one receives a comment like I did from Kak Wan, a senior officer, as we passed each other in the pantry this morning;

“Welcome to the mother’s world”

The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part III

The last leg of our trip was kind of lame, but it was basically the only time hubby and I actually spent some time alone. In effect, we went on a long, educational date of some sort and by the end of the day, my feet really hurt from the four-hours non stop walk… We walked all over Melaka City Centre – all around the major historical sites - Stadhuys, St Paul hill, A Famosa, Independence Square, etc.

We toured two museums, even walked to the Maritime museum (well known for the huge old ship structure), but by then I was too tired and pleaded with hubby not to enter it. The Muzium Budaya, located in the replica of the Sultanate Palace (next to A Famosa ruins) is recommended for parents with school-aged children. From what I’d seen, heard and experienced that day – the children there seemed to enjoy getting a glimpse of Melaka during its glorious days as Venice of the East. And to think that the entrance fee is only RM2 per adult! The Islamic Museum, located next to the Museum of Arts and Beauty not far from Dataran Kemerdekaan, still has a lot of room for improvement in terms of content and display. But since we only paid RM1 each for entrance fee, I won’t complain much.

I’ve been told by Abang Azrain that food really doesn’t cost that much in Melaka compared to KL. So, hubby and I decided to have our lunch in Klebang, before we went to Melaka city centre. I must admit that I was pleased to note that our lunch, consisting mee bandung, mee goreng (with fried egg on the side), rojak buah, kopi ginseng, soya bean drinks and two mugs of warm water only cost us RM10.50. The same menu would’ve easily cost us about RM15.00 in KL.



Cheap food - everything on the table only cost us RM10.50

Stopped by at Lendu to visit one of hubby’s many mak angkats. He has a few mak angkat actually – a few I’ve never have any opportunity to meet so far. As a student in Egypt, he used to act as tourist guide during holidays, and in the process got a few nice makcik to care for him and became his mak angkat.

This particular mak angkat of his is one nice lady who, unfortunately, has been left by her husband who marries another younger girl. But she never bitches about it. Photos of her husband still hang proudly in her home – he never divorces her, but simply left without leaving any news of his whereabouts or providing any support. Still, she seems perfectly content to be at home – entertaining herself with raising some deers, some peacocks, taking care of a small fruit orchard and operating a small business selling air mussoffa (holy water of some sort, produced by certain qualified persons writing selected Quranic verses using ink made from saffron around white plates or something to that effect). She always look so calm and at peace with herself that sometimes I could not help thinking what a pity that the husband fails to appreciate such a wonderful gem as this lady.

But then again, sometimes people do take their blessings for granted, right?

The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part II

Day 2 – Sunday

I really pity my sister-in-law. In her absence, there was one large plastic container filled with unwashed mugs, cups and dirty plates in the kitchen. And I saw a peek of a mountain of yet-to-be folded and pressed laundry in her room. I guess Zsarina can’t be wrong when she imagined that “there'd be millions of Malaysian men (Malay men especially) who would be as helpless as babies (and nowhere as cute) if their housewives suddenly decided to quit taking care of their laundry, food, groceries, household bills and housecleaning”. My brother-in-law is one perfect example of such man.

However, since I could not stand the smell, I did not help out with the dishes except for those newly used ones. And since I didn’t want to intrude her private room, I did not help with the laundry as well. But I tried to keep the house as tidy as possible as we left – with two active kids under 5 years of age, that’s quite a feat. But they say it’s better to have active kids than quiet, inactive ones. “Nakal tandanya cerdik,” or so people claimed.

We were taken to another restaurant in Kota Tinggi for brunch. Hubby had lontong kering once again while I had some too-salty lontong basah. Guess hubby is quite fascinated with lontong kering because they are quite hard to find outside Johor. Abang Nazri suggested trying out the sup tulang – but I had never been keen on soup and hubby thought it’s too early to have soup as he prefers taking soup in the evening or later at night.

Then, hubby and I went on to Ayer Tawar to visit my eldest aunt who’s staying at her eldest daughter’s place. Mak Long used to make really nice tempe, but she had stopped making them ages ago, but still it was nice to be treated to some fried tempe at her place. Or rather, my cousin Kak Jarah’s place. Kak Jarah, or more affectionately known as Abang Aya, is of Mak’s age, but she seems a lot more energetic. She’s really into old-folk care now since she has to take care not only of my Mak Long, but also her husband’s stepmother. Not to mention that she used to take care of her husband’s mother too, until she passed away a couple of years ago.

I really, really respect Abang Aya for I think few women can surpass her strength. Her husband has another younger wife, who could actually be asked to take care of his mother and now, his stepmother. After all, taking care of one’s mother at a later age could be rather taxing. Abang Aya has to deal with Mak Long who could be quite demanding at times. Then, at times, she has to take care of her grandchildren too. Sometimes, Abang Aya even has to babysit her stepchildren when the younger wife was not feeling well and what-nots. Despite the unfair treatment (in my opinion anyway), she gets along well with the younger wife – and oh my, that takes a lot of strength…

Hubby had a one-hour nap while I chatted with Mak Long, Abang Aya and her stepmother-in-law. After solat and lunch, we made our move. Next stop was supposed to be Melaka, my cousin’s place not far from Sungai Udang, but we had some detours first.

First – there was an unscheduled stop in Kulai to meet Lina and Rudy. Lina used to study in Manchester and now a medical doctor working in Hospital Sultanah Aminah in JB. Rudy, her husband, is a Singaporean who used to study in Birmingham. I knew Rudy through Lina, but I am equally fond of both of them. Lina reminds me a lot of myself. So I guess it’s hard not to like Rudy who appreciates her for herself.

We were supposed to meet in Kota Tinggi or JB, but finally decided to meet in Kulai, at Lina’s younger sister’s place. Just nice too, since hubby and I had to pass by Kulai on our way to Melaka anyway (to use the highway). We both missed each other’s wedding, but Lina took Rudy over to my place in PJ not long after her wedding to introduce him to my family (she’s close to my family as well, even calls my father “Ayah” instead of Pakcik or Uncle). She even took Rudy and his family to my in-law’s place not long after my wedding to make up for not attending my kenduri. So, I feel it’s only fair for me and hubby to return her courtesy by visiting her while we were in Johor. I’m glad to note that Rudy and hubby hit it off well too despite meeting for the first time. Upon noticing how deeply in conversation Rudy and hubby were, Lina’s mother asked us when was the last time they met – to which both of us answered simultaneously – that was their first meeting. All is good though – it’s always good to know that one’s spouse is on good term with one’s best friend’s spouse, kan?

Then – there was a detour to Parit Raja, Batu Pahat, to visit hubby’s college friend, Qamarul. Coincidentally Qamarul’s grandpa was not feeling very well, so hubby and I visited the grandpa as well. The old frail man reminded me of my own late Tok Ayah, who passed away when I was sitting for SPM more than ten years ago and I missed being there with him during his last moments on earth. I asked hubby to make du’a for the ailing grandpa and hubby obliged, reciting lots of selawat and du’a as he held the old man’s hand. I made some du’a too, simultaneously making some du’a for my own grandparents.

After treating us to some home-made soup, Qamarul led us back to Ayer Hitam, the famous porcelain and ceramic centre in northern Malaysia. We ended up spending over RM200 on vases (as souvenirs for both Mak and my mother-in-law), artificial flowers, fridge magnets, art stuff and what nots. Since it was already 8.40 p.m. when we arrived, not surprisingly, hubby and I were among the last to exit the shop when it closed at 10.00 p.m.

There were lots of accessories for traditional Malay wedding on sale too. We managed to tease Qamarul about how convenient it will be for him when the time arrives for him to settle down since he can go to a relatively cheap one-stop centre to get most of the things needed for a wedding. Qamarul explained that he hasn’t found a suitable candidate for a wife yet, and hubby said that maybe I could help him there. But then again, I pointed out that he’s only 24 where else my single friends are mostly above 25 years old. He immediately replied that age is not a hindrance, after all Rasulullah wedded Siti Khadijah who was more than a decade older than him – it’s the akhlaq that counts most. I was rather amazed by his quick quip and could not help thinking that the woman who finally marries this guy is one really lucky lass.

The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part I

After six months of marriage, we finally found some time to visit Mak’s relatives in Johor. Right after our wedding, I took a week off for bertandang – visiting relatives and close family friends around Negeri Sembilan, Klang Valley, Kedah and Penang. We planned on visiting relatives in Johor a few months after the wedding, but a month after our wedding, hubby had to go to Terengganu for his one-year course and could only return during school breaks. Yes, he came back during school break in March, but at that time I had not recovered well from my hyperemesis gravidarum yet. So – this school holiday, we made it a point to reserve a few days out for the Johor trip.

So, last Friday, after finished praying Isyak, I called Mak Ram’s house (Mak’s elder sister) in Pontian, to remind her of our arrival. To my surprise, the call was answered by Abang Azmin, a cousin who now resides in Labuan and was unable to attend my kenduri. When I told him that hubby & I were going over to Pontian, it was his turn to be taken by surprise. He didn’t quite believed me at first, but I told him, now that he’s around, I must visit Pontian to save me a trip to Labuan to introduce hubby to him & his family.

Turned out that all four of Mak Ram’s sons returned to Pontian that day, it was almost like Hari Raya. I guess, once the five-days week for government servants are implemented, there’ll be more family reunions held over the weekend rather than waiting for Hari Raya to gather everybody together. Still, despite having all her sons and family under one roof, Mak Ram still insisted on hubby and I having the privilege of resting in the guestroom-connected-to-a-bathroom. Her grandchildren mostly occupied the family hall for the night.

Among Mak’s many sisters, I feel closest to Mak Ram and Mak Su. I feel most accepted by them, like I am truly their niece, rather than their sister’s stepdaughter. Mak Ram and Mak Su helped out a lot during the wedding – Mak Su sponsored lots of goodies as part of the ‘berkat bag’ while Mak Ram loaned some of the stuff used for the pelamin since the theme colour for my cousin Azman’s wedding in 2003 was similar to mine. Mak Su even took the initiative to decorate the baskets used for distributing bunga telur long before I started any decorating on my part.

Even when I was still a child, Mak Su and Mak Ram pampered my brothers and I more than Mak’s other siblings. Maybe partly because it is in their nature as teachers to be more gentle and understanding towards kids from broken house. Maybe because we were just at the right age when we were first introduced – Adik was a toddler who could have been Mak Su’s student while Abang and I were still in primary school and could have been Mak Ram’s students. Maybe because Mak has always been closer to them and that closeness was extended to us as well.

So, it’s small wonder that I chose to visit Mak Ram’s house first in my series of relatives-visiting around Johor. Besides, Mak Ram still lives at the same lane where my late Mak Tua used to live and where Mak was raised up.

Day 1 – Saturday

Woke up to a wonderful breakfast. Everybody was too tired to cook, so Abang Azrain, the eldest cousin decided on getting instant breakfast – bought them. Fortunately, the district hospital in Pontian offers one of the best traditional Malay breakfast delicacies. There were nasi lemak, fried beehoon, assorted kuih as well as lontong kering. Hubby tried out lontong kering for the first time ever, and was treated to lontong everyday for the next two days.

With exception of Abang Azmin, the son from Labuan who had to go and visit his in-laws in Batu Pahat- Mak Ram and the rest of the gang had been invited to a wedding in Kulai. So as they left home, hubby and I made our way to Mak Su’s house, which is less than five minutes away from Mak Ram’s place – on foot.

Coincidentally Mak Su just returned from a tour around Egypt. So hubby and her had a lot to talk about – mostly swapping stories and views on tourist havens in Egypt. Since I’ve never set my foot in Egypt before, I was pretty content to just listen to them chatting. Good to know that Mak Su enjoyed her trip very much. If you ask me, I think my retired aunt has gone to more places that I’ve ever been to, and she even plans to visit Japan since I am going to stay there for a while beginning end of this year, insya Allah. By the way, together with my cousin Azman, we acted as tourist guides when Mak Ram, Mak Su and Abang Azmin went to UK while Azman and I were still studying there. I guess it’ll be fun to host and act as a tourist guide for my inquisitive aunties in Japan.

After a while, hubby and I took our leave and moved on to JB. At first I was thinking of visiting Kota Tinggi first, since two of my aunts reside there. Turned out that one aunt had gone to Melaka to send her eldest granddaughter for registration at Multimedia University. So, had a quick change of plan and went to JB first instead.

Visited a cousin’s place in Kampung Melayu Majidee. Hubby had his first taste of the famous Murtabak Singapore. We were told that people from all over JB don’t mind queuing up for this delicious murtabak during Ramadhan. My cousins in Shah Alam also always pack some murtabak to-go everytime they finished visiting their siblings in JB. There are actually three cousins living in JB , but a couple is away to perform umrah in Makkah while another cousin and her family went visiting her sisters in Shah Alam.

Next destination – Kota Tinggi. We decided to crash at my sister-in-law’s place first and to visit Mak Long, Mak’s eldest sister in Ayer Tawar a little later. But by then, both hubby and I were so tired that we finally made up our mind to postpone the trip to Ayer Tawar to the next day. My sister-in-law, Kak Telaah was not around since she had to attend a nine-day course in Kota Bharu, Kelantan.

Abang Nazri, her husband took their two kids and us out to a nice Chinese Muslim restaurant, Restoran Hassan Ong, for dinner. As we enjoyed the siakap tiga rasa and some Japanese tofu, Abang Nazri told us how once Kak Telaah suddenly craved for siakap tiga rasa while she was pregnant with their eldest daughter. So, Abang Nazri had to go to the nearest sea food restaurant which was about a half hour away by motorbike, bought two pieces of siakap and returned home. By then, it was already past midnight and just like her sudden craving, my sister-in-law suddenly lost her appetite for the siakap. Which really frustrated her husband then – but he understands now that one can’t blame the wife when that happened. Some things are just beyond pregnant women’s control…

Scratch scratch.. Stretch stretch...

A couple of weeks ago, I developed some raised red marks on my bulging tummy. They were very, very itchy, so I thought I have developed some kind of rashes. Asked some friends and colleagues if they have experienced the same thing during pregnancy, even showed some of them the mark, but I got a mixture of different advices.

“Try putting on some medicated powder,” one kakak suggested. “Like Ammens or Agnesia?” I asked back, referring to two well-known brands used by most Malaysian mothers to treat rashes. “Maybe you can try Johnson’s medicated powder. I use it to treat most itchiness in my family”. Oh, okay… but it didn’t work well.

“Try Vaseline,” another kakak advocated. The petroleum jelly? Uh huh. I never thought it can help with reducing itchiness - and in my case, it didn’t.

“Why don’t you go and see a doctor?” yet another kakak suggested.

I took her advice and went to see my family GP last week. Told him about the unsightly red marks and the itchiness I felt. He asked me to lie down to have a good look at these ‘rashes’.

Upon seeing it, he smiled gently, “Nothing to worry about, they are just some stretch marks”

Huh? I’ve been rubbing baby oil with vitamin E on my tummy daily just to prevent stretch marks. I thought they only appear after delivery.

No, the kind doctor corrected my perception. Apparently, it’s quite common for pregnant ladies (75 to 90 percent, in fact, or so according to this article) to develop stretch marks during pregnancy. He clarified that stretch marks occur in the dermis, the elastic, resilient middle layer of the skins that allow skins to retain its shape. Using a rubber-band in his explanation, the doctor explained how the skin becomes less elastic and the connective fibres break when the dermis is constantly stretched over time, causing the markings known as stretch marks.

Oh, okay…

It was rather embarrassing, really – to consult the GP on what I thought was rashes, only to be told that they are harmless stretch marks. (And to think that I’ve been consistently using the baby oil to prevent them, when I did not even recognize what they actually look like…) He advised me to get Strytedin or some other stretch mark cream from any pharmacy.

I got away from the clinic without having to pay for anything, not even a minimal consultation fee. (That’s rare in KL/PJ nowadays.) Immediately went in search of the said cream, but could not find it.

As for now, I’m treating the stretch marks with some olive oil, a gift from a friend who bought it somewhere in Europe, as advised by a friend of hers. According to my friend, her friend who used that particular brand of olive oil (Olivia) has no stretch mark at all after giving birth.

Hmm, hope it’s still not too late for me to eliminate those marks then…

The Guessing Game

If this article is to be believed, then I think it could be a girl…

… I had a bad case of morning sickness earlier on
… Belly resembles a watermelon more than a basketball
… Craved for big fat juicy strawberries
… Not looking quite as good as normal during pregnancy
… Been having more break-outs than even during high school
… Ayah-to-be is not gaining weight along with me

Given a choice, we would still love to have a boy first…
But then again, the baby’s gender doesn’t really matter so long as our child is healthy, cukup sifat and all… kan?

Hitting the big 3-0

“…You’ve already lost 10 percent of your muscle mass. And, on average, you’re almost $20,000 in debt. But don’t despair. At 30, Harrison Ford was working as a carpenter, and neither Oprah nor Jane Austen had found fame. Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream? Created at 30.”
- Book of Ages 30

It’s not like I don’t realize that I'm getting old, what with the fine lines beginning to appear at the corner of my eyes and all. But I sometimes still feel like a kid. Friends and cousins laughed upon hearing what I asked from hubby for my birthday – a huge teddy bear. “That sounds like a request coming from a three-year-old, maybe a thirteen-year old – but thirty???”

(Well, I don’t know – what’s wrong with getting a teddy bear at thirty anyway? I’d been rather specific in my request – it must be huge and comfy-soft and very huggable and doesn’t get dirty easily and of good quality so that it can last for many more years to come. Okay, so maybe it’s not just for me – maybe it’s also for my baby…)

Now that I’ve reached one of the significant “agemarks”, I guess it’s time for me to revisit the past years, to learn from my own experiences as well as to take heed of what others have to offer and prepare to brace what is in store for me in the future. It’s not like I’ve never ponder on the meaning of life before – but pondering on this subject matter at different stages of life, I supposed, makes we realise how we change and look at things differently, after going through moments of good laugh, good fun, some pain and some anguish.

Anyway – I guess, now that I’ve hit the big three-oh, based on the average lifespan of a Malay Muslim female living in Malaysia, I have less time on earth to perform good deeds as Allah’s humble servant compared to younger sisters. I have less time to equip myself with knowledge – both duniawi and ukhrawi - in preparing for the hereafter. I also have less time to ‘change the world’ or ‘make a difference’ – but I’m going to try my best, one day at a time.

It’s also time to reflect and be thankful, alhamdulillah, on the fact that I’m doing quite well for an average thirty-year old. Got a well-paid (not highly-paid, but I’m content) stable job, no study loan to worry about, a close-knit family, a loving husband, a child on the way, loads of caring friends, not a single gray hair as yet and in the process of purchasing our own house… All in all – not too bad. Not too bad.

But of course – still have a long way to go before becoming a full-fledge mature and responsible 40-year old. (That’s part of the reason why Rasulullah only became a Rasul after he reached 40 – those younger than 40 are never quite mature enough, especially from the viewpoint of their ‘older-and-wiser’ parents)

Until then, I guess I‘ll just savour each day as they come and keep on living, loving, learning, relearning, unlearning…

#####
By the way – here’s a note of appreciation to all who’ve made my thirtieth birthday a happy one, especially to:

My dearest hubby, who called many times (instead of just making missed calls) throughout the day – beginning from 1.20 a.m. (five minutes before my delivery time as per recorded in my birth certificate), bought me two stuffed black-and-white panda bears – a huge lovely-to-be-hugged (the largest in my collection to date) for me and a smaller version for our baby and also sent me a fine card which, though not a Hallmark, managed to stir the deepest feelings. I look forward to us spending birthdays together (instead of miles away) in years to come, insya Allah.

Jue – for sending the first of many SMSs;

Chah – for sending the first of many YM messages;

Masni – for sending the largest and most colourful YM message;

Shireen – for initiating a round of congratulatory e-mail among fellow officemates and ex-officemates;

Dak One E – for that absolutely wonderful Baker’s Cottage’s Royal Fruit cake;

Queyah – for the most surprising birthday e-card;

Rinie – for the most unexpected phone call;

… and the rest who had formed part of making it a truly beautiful day for me -
Terima kasih.

May all your dreams come true too and may Allah bless always.




"thirteen going thirty... heheheh"



"that huge panda bear..."

On being thankful...

There’s this particular nasyid that has been played and replayed again and again in my car for the last couple of weeks. The tune is catchy, but more importantly, the message is touching. (Yes, I know, admitting that I actually like UNIC’s song is rather lame for someone in my age group – but who cares, anyway?)

Since this nasyid talks about the meaning of being thankful and grateful to the Creator – it suits exactly how I feel today as I hit the big 3-0.

Erti Syukur

Lafazkan kalimah syukur
Lafazkan kalimah itu
Alhamdulillah...

Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Pemurah)
Takkan terbalas walaupun sebesar zarah

Kenikmatan yang bertandang
Terkadang tidak dihiraukan
(Lepas dari pandangan)
Dan bila hilang barulah dikesalkan

Adakalanya aku hanyut
Adakalanya aku terlupa
Adakala aku leka
Ampunilah...

Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tidak berdaya di sisiMu
Seringkali terlupa nikmatMu
Datang tiada jemu

Bila terhimpit mulalah
Mencari dan menyebut namaMu
Barulah merasai makna sebenar erti syukur
Syukur atas rahmatMu

Rap: Adakala ku hanyut
Adakala ku lupa
Adakala ku leka dan adakala ku alpa
Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tak berdaya
Seringkali terlupa nikmat yang Kau kurnia
Ku bersyukur ya Tuhan
Segala pemberian
Walau luas lautan
Bukanlah perbandingan
Ku tingkat keimanan
Ku gilap ketaqwaan
Sebagai perlambangan
Terima kasih ku Tuhan

Onak duri kehidupan
Jatuh bangun sendirian
Ada hikmah yang tersimpan
Yang menguji iman

Bersyukurlah selalu
Sentiasalah redha dan menerima
Tiap ujian tiba bukan diminta
Sebaliknya Allah Maha Mengetahui

Kan ku bertasbih selalu
Bertahmid berzikir padaMu
Sebagai tanda ku nilai
RahmatMu Tuhan

Aku bersyukur Ya Allah
Segala pemberianMu padaku
Seluas lautan pun bukanlah jadi ukurannya
Memang tiada bandingan

Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Permurah)
Bukan milikku pinjaman sementara
Syukur Alhamdulillah

Rap: Sesungguhnya solatku,
Amalku, hidupku, matiku
Kerna Allah yang satu
Kuserahkan segala harta jiwa dan raga
Sebagai tanda cinta
KepadaMu Yang Esa

Lyric: Lukhman S
Song: Manis Helma (Hijjaz Records)
Performed by: UNIC – Satu Tekad, 2005

I want to be like her

“Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn’t grow under my heart
But in it”

- Anonymous.

Mak did not become a mother in the conventional way. She also did not get her three kids through adoption. She never gave birth to any of us – but she became our mother in every other sense when Ayah married her more than twenty years ago.

No, I guess none of us have ever seen her as our stepmother – she’s simply Mak. She married Ayah when she was in her thirties, the right age for a mother with kids our age, ranging from three to nine.

Things changed as soon as Mak entered our lives. My brothers and I had been under our paternal grandparents’ care in Kulim since Ayah’s divorce. In my case – I’d been raised up more by Tok and Tok Ayah compared to staying with my own parents since I was a baby. When Mak insisted that all of us should move and live together in Petaling Jaya and Ayah obliged, I supposed Abang and I were most affected by the transfer.

It wasn’t that easy adapting to having a proper mother and going back to school in a new place. Abang and I had missed school for almost a year following Ayah’s divorce – Ayah felt that there was not much point when we kept bouncing from one school to another. When we were in Kulim, where my grandparents lived, our biological mother would came over and forced us to go back to Sg Petani with her. Yes, forced – sometimes she had to ask for assistance from a few teachers to practically hauled us into the car before she could drove us to Sg Petani. Whenever we were in Sg Petani though, Ayah would came to pick us up after school and we would happily entered the car and returned home to Kulim. After a few repeated similar incidents, Ayah stopped sending us to school and instead taught us at home – with the aid of many exercise books and TV Pendidikan.

But of course, off-and-on home tutoring by my father did little in preparing us for a new adventure in Petaling Jaya. Our Kedahan accent was obvious and we knew little English – when it was a norm for other pupils to converse in English in that urban school. Once I got 19/100 for an English test and I got teased all the time for my ‘weird’ accent. However, I managed to make some friends who did not mind my accent and my poor English and the fact that I wore baju kurung and tudung when most girls my age were more often clad in pinafores.

Life changed in so many ways as for the first time in my life I learned to know what it felt like to have a mother around. Yes, prior to that, Tok was the one who raised me up – fed me, made sure I bathed twice a day, sent me to learn Al-Quran after school, scolded me when I misbehaved. But it was only after Mak came into my life, I learned that a mother’s duty, among others, was to ensure that homework was done on time, Al-Quran recital was checked and corrected, school uniforms were cleaned and neatly pressed daily, extra books were bought to increase our interest in lessons learned at school, all meals were prepared and taken accordingly, and ensure that time was spent to listen to our worries and insecurities, to smooth our anxieties, to calm us from our fears, to kiss and make our wounds better and not laughed out loud when the 10-year-old daughter was such a coward that she insisted on somebody to wait right outside the bathroom whenever she took a shower.

Mak took time to teach us English, purchased and read story books by Enid Blyton to us and answered our endless queries on new words. Mak personally made sure that we could read and khatam the Quran by the age of twelve, at the latest. Mak spent some time after work to get to know our friends personally when she let us invited them over to have tea or play ping-pong at our house.

As we grew older and not much wiser in our teenage years, Mak helped us settling disputes whenever crisis arose at school. Both Abang and I got into some trouble with our teachers when we each reached sixteen. Ayah quickly blamed us for it – but Mak lend her ears to us, to find out our side of stories. She was the strong anchor that held us together whenever my brothers and I felt rebellious at Ayah’s conservative way of handling things. Mak was the one we ran to, who would supply endless patience, wisdom and love as only a true mother could.

Just like any true mothers, we had our moments of disagreements too – but all mothers should be allowed to have their moments of weaknesses, of having insecurities and despair in bringing up their kids, right?

As we grow even older and supposedly more mature as young adults, Mak continued to be our major consultant in seeking ideas and perspectives. Abang goes to Mak for advices on this and that as a self-entrepreneur. Adik, now a University student, who was a toddler when Mak first welcomed us as her children, still runs to Mak for guidance and opinions.

As for me – Mak is just the person I want to be like when I grow older.

Things I wish they have known during the PAC

The invitation to be a facilitator for a PTD Assessment Centre (PAC) programme a few weeks ago came as a surprise, but one that I relished. I thought it might be interesting to watch possible PTDs-to-be in action before they undergo any formal training and I was right – it was indeed a worthy experience.

Yes, I saw a few familiar faces among the participants, including my junior from college and my best friend’s wife. However, the facilitators had been advised (read: warned) not to be or seen to be too friendly with the participants – and so I kept my distance.

It was my first experience as a facilitator – but I guess it wasn’t that difficult or worrying to be in the seat of a facilitator compared to being one of the assessed participants. Still, a few of my fellow facilitators confessed that at first it could be quite a daunting task to give instructions and provoke the participants during the activities – but it always got better after one or two activities.

There are a few lessons and values instilled among the PTDs that I have learned to appreciate more since my formal training in Intan four years ago. Things I wish some good candidates have known during the PAC, such as:

* Volunteering is good. Dominating is not. If one of your peers volunteer to take over any task after you have done so – make way for them;

* It is just as important to listen to what others have to say as to voice out your opinion. So, speak up, but do give consideration for other people’s views too;

* Never say “I can’t” when you are invited to present for the group. Even when you know your BM or English is not that good, just give it a try first. The main thing is that you dare to step forward and rise up to the challenge;

* A good diplomat does not need to raise his or her voice unnecessarily to emphasis a point – how it is said and one’s body language could help drive any of one’s point home. And no, there is no need to respond defensively or aggressively upon any provocation, imagined or otherwise;

* Everyone should use the given 5 minutes effectively for public speaking. Less than 4 minutes could mean that you lack confidence and just want to rush things to get them quickly over with. Over 5 minutes is pointless because the panel stopped awarding any point after the bell is rung twice;

* Avoid talking on everybody’s favorite topic. After a while, it gets a bit tiring to hear people talking about the same thing again and again and again. During the recent sessions, social ills and ICT were the top topics chosen by the participants – and yes, they became dull rather quickly;

* Posture speaks a lot. Stand straight, eyes front, shoulders back, use gesture as appropriate and no hands in pockets or behind your back. Make eye contact by scanning the whole audience and change facial expression to emphasise points;

* Less is more. Covering 10 tips on how to be a good parent is too much for a 5 minutes speech. Alternate your volume, alternate your speed and stop for pauses as you move from one point to another;

* Keep it simple. Give a concise and precise introduction and stick to simple English if you think you’ll have some trouble pronouncing some ‘big words’. The impact you make during the introduction can hook or lose the audience’s immediate attention. And no, telling a well-known (lame) joke does not make a riveting introduction;

* Even when you know that you won’t be joining any physical activity due to some constraints, just be attired appropriately when asked to do so. It’s part of what PTDs refer to as esprit de corp;

Oh, I've enjoyed the experience as a facilitator tremendously. Enjoyed provoking thoughts and watched people changing their decisions, enjoyed challenging some participants to do more than they thought they were able to, enjoyed pondering on some of the public speeches, enjoyed cheering the participants on during the run; enjoyed acting as Yang Dipertua Dewan during the debate – and enjoyed the delicious strong black kopi kampung as could only be found in Intan…

The speech I enjoyed most? It was on values learned from The Apprentice.

You are Loved, Ayah - today and always

It's Ayah's birthday today. The beginning of many, many birthdays this month. Mak's birthday is next week - yes, Ayah and Mak were born exactly a week apart. Mine is somewhere in the middle - five days after Ayah's and two days before Mak's. Two of my uncles and two of my cousins are celebrating their birthday in May (in fact, Ayah Lang's birthday is also today). And don't get me started on my friends' birthdays... (then there's Labour Day, Mother's Day, Teacher's Day... you get the drift...)

Too bad that 050505 is a day that will be remembered by many as the day on which the price of fuel hiked up all of a sudden - but still, I guess my dad would have other better reason(s) to remember this day. Like having his son-in-law beating his daughter at wishing him happy birthday... And having a prospective daughter-in-law calling him up to wish happy birthday too... I pray that other things in other sections of his life are flourishing well too...

I don't think Ayah has ever read my blog - but I hope he knows that it's not just at special times like this, but each and every day, he is loved far more than words can ever say! I hope things go well his way and Allah will bless him always.

P/S: Note the time I reserved to publish this particular entry - 05:05, 050505... Cool, eh? And 5 happens to be my favorite number...

Be careful what you wish for

I sometimes complained to my husband on how it sometimes seemed unfair that he was never around when I was at my worst during this pregnancy. I mean, I think my parents and parents-in-law had to care for me more than my own husband during the worst and he’s only around when I was rather okay. Understandably so, since he’s only back on a monthly basis and the worst was already over when he came back for the week-long mid-semester break.

Well, last week he was back from Terengganu for the Maulidur Rasul break – and guess what happened on the first day of his arrival? I fell sick.

Or rather, my left leg hurt. Like crazy.

His college gave longer break than most because two days prior to Maulidur Rasul, they had a convocation ceremony for last year’s students. Which meant he got 5-days break instead of the anticipated 3-days off.

However, just before his return, I learned that I had been selected as a facilitator for a session of PTD Assessment Centre (PAC) at Intengah from 21-24 April – which coincided with hubby’s Maulidur Rasul break. The participants were asked to attend it beginning 22 April, but the facilitators had to be there a day earlier for a briefing and some training.

So, the fact that my leg all of a sudden refused to work like normal on the day my husband returned, plus the fact that I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with him for most part of his break was rather, err, frustrating.

I had to call in sick for two days due to the pain in my left leg. On the first day, hubby drove me to Kampung Delek in Kapar to see a family masseur. She was astounded by the aches – it was due to some wind in my leg that prevented normal blood flow and affected the “urat-urat” as well. No, it did not happen overnight – my masseur asked me what could possibly caused that much wind in my body and I told her about my cousin’s habit of sleeping with both the air-conditioner and the ceiling fan on. Well, I normally spend my weekdays at my uncle’s place in Putrajaya and only return to PJ or Seremban during weekends. So, I learned to adjust to my cousin’s preference when bedtime comes although I normally prefer only letting either the air-cond or the ceiling fan on. I never thought that it could lead to that much pain in one's leg...

Not feeling much different after the massage, the next day, on the way back to Seremban, we stopped at Kampung Rinching to see another masseur, as recommended by my brother-in-law’s wife. That Mbah’s style of massage is a lot milder and gentler compared to my normal masseur but her verdict was similar – the cause was sleeping with the air-cond on without using a thick comforter or putting on a pair of socks. I made a solemn promise to myself there and then never to sleep in a cold room without a thick blanket ever again – or at least until my child is born…

The spasm was so bad that I had to perform my solat by sitting on a chair for a few days, I had to sit very-very slowly and needed some assistance to stand up. Hubby helped me out every time without any complaint. He prepared the chair for me before solat, he waited patiently as I walked slowly, he assisted me everytime I needed to get up and he pampered me in everyway possible. Alhamdulillah, my leg was better by the time I had to report for duty as a PAC facilitator, but not properly healed, so I still walked with a slight limp during the PAC session.

I guess, somewhere at the back of my mind, I must had wished for my husband to be around when I was sick. So, the episode was a lesson of some sort – be careful what you wish for… your wish could just come true.

(And when it did – I wished that I’d never wished so in the first place…)

"Garang tapi best..."

Part of the reasons my young cousins are close to me is because I normally entertain them more than other older cousins. Upon learning of my wedding, a cousin immediately remarked in dismay, “ala, nanti Kak Eda dah tak leh bawak jalan-jalan, dah tak leh belanja… Ala, tak bestnya…”

Most of my cousins had at one time or another asked for a treat from me – whether for some sweets, some ice cream, some Slurpee from 7-Eleven store, or cajoled me into buying a book or a VCD. Which I often obliged because not only it gives me pleasure to see their bright smile of joy, it also gives me pleasure in just sharing their joy.

Although I’m not a chocolate lover, I love sweets and ice cream. So buying those for my cousins usually means a treat for myself too. When I was younger, I almost always had steady supplies of sweets in my bag - a fact well known by my cousins that once, a five-year-old cousin upon reaching my home, straight away went to my room and searched my bag for sweets. My auntie gasped at his behaviour, yet I couldn't help but laughed at it. Of course he found them - and he got more than his siblings simply because he found them first. Although I don't keep much sweets in my handbag nowadays if ever, there's almost always a tub of ice cream ready for the young guns' attack in the freezer. The red bean ice cream potong are off limit though - they are meant for my parents, the respected Ayah Long and Mak Long.

Buying children books for younger cousins mean I can go ooh-and-aah together with them over some amazing facts found in those books. I sometimes read out stories or retold stories from some children book for them – in the car during family outings or before they go to sleep when we stay under one roof (as we sometimes do, during Raya and other family gatherings, usually during school holidays). Enid Blyton is almost everyone’s favourite, but I sometimes narrate horror stories from my school days or stories of Prophets, of Rasulullah (peace be upon him) and his Sahabah, depending on what my cousins were interested in on that particular day.

I especially love taking my female cousins out – window shopping and dining at shopping malls or just going for a jog at a nearby park followed by a small treat afterwards. I guess that’s why their immediate response upon learning of my wedding was partly dismay – at the thought of having nobody else to plead for treats and to chauffeur them around like I used to.

I was already eleven when I got my first female cousin, and more female cousins arrived after I was already in high school or beyond. With our large age gap, it’s a pleasure to be a big sis to them, the one I wished I had when I was younger. The one they can confide in, ask a lot of questions to and manja with, although being the eldest daughter of the eldest son also means I have some authority over (read: scold) them when they misbehave.

I can be rather strict as a disciplinarian – but often, the ‘nicer’ side of me are remembered more. As one nine-year-old cousin put it, “Kak Eda garang, tapi best…” When asked to further explain on what she meant by being ‘best’, she just shrugged and said “banyak sangat sebab, susah nak cakap”.

I guess in the end, that’s what pleases me most about being nice to my young cousins – the thought that somewhere inside their heart, there’s a fondness specially reserved for their old Kak Eda. Although they might not be able to quite explain it – it’s there for sure.

Infamous vs not famous

I met a senior from high school during a short-course last week. He looked familiar and his name sounded familiar, so when we were placed in the same discussion group, I took that opportunity to check whether or not my initial thought that we were from the same school was right. He confirmed it – yes, we went to the same school and he was a year senior than me.

When it came to seniors a year ahead of me, I normally would mention my brother-in-law’s name as the point of reference – “sama batch dengan Talhah, kan?” If it’s a few years more senior, then I’ll use my sister-in-law’s name instead – “sama batch dengan Kak Telaah, kan?” My husband, who’s sandwiched between these two seniors of mine, (thankfully) went to Kisas instead. Though I never even dreamed of someday marrying someone related to my schoolmates, sometimes, having relatives from the same school could come in handy, even if it’s just as a point of reference…

Anyway, back to the high school senior (who’s now my junior in PTD service), upon learning of my batch, he asked whether I was in the same batch with a few girls. I confirmed it, yes, I was in the same batch with those girls. Not surprisingly, all the names mentioned belonged to a bunch of popular/pretty girls.

When I met my brother-in-law and mentioned it, he told me a story that was kind of an eye-opener for me. According to him, the real reason guys from his batch remembered this particular group of girls was due to an incident involving a guy from his batch. Apparently, the guy had been strictly questioned by an ustaz on what he had done to one particular girl. The guy had no idea on what it was all about and was astonished to be grilled rather harshly by the ustaz. The ustaz then explained that the girl in question had an episode of hysteria in which she kept calling for his names.

I’m not sure whether or not the two ever got on as a couple – but the girl had been notoriously noticed by the guy’s whole batch as the one who kept shouting his name when she had hysteria. And since she belonged to a group of rather pretty girls, other girls in her group became equally well-known.

The hysteria episode was over long ago, but the girl is still remembered for that. In contrast, my senior did not recognise me at all when I introduced myself as his junior. Partly because he went out of the school after form three when he did not do well in Arabic; partly because I only began to mingle more with my male seniors after I entered form four due to various clubs’ and societies’ activities and was a virtual unknown prior to that.

Still, between being famous for some infamous reasons and practically unheard of – I’ll choose being anonymous any day.

Fair lah kan?

“Sayang, will you allow me to cut my hair? Please… Please… Please…”

“Ok… just snip an inch off”

We’ve been having this sort of discussion for quite some time now. Everytime I seeked permission to have a hair cut, my husband would either dismissed it or pretended to dwell on it but finally only allowed snipping an inch off. I think my hair is way too long but hubby thinks it’s not long enough. And I really want a hair cut so badly that I’m willing to do it myself if need be.

I tried to convince him that I won’t crop it short a’la Demi Moore’s style when she was starring in Ghost. I just want to trim it a little bit, perhaps keeping it at shoulder length, which I feel suits me best. But he wouldn’t listen to any of my pleading. Instead he wants me to keep growing it until it reaches the back of my waist, or longer. “Women look better with their hair long. The longer, the better,” he insisted. Since my hair grows very slowly, it’ll take ages before it measures up to his requirement. Yet, even now I already feel like my hair is way too long for my own comfort.

Perhaps it was partly my fault. He once asked me what’s my personal record of longest hair and when was it. I carelessly told him that it was during my student days in UK. Why so? Oh, because my ex was growing his hair long and I just wanted to make sure that my hair was longer than his.

Perhaps that statement touched him more than he wanted to openly admit. Now he’s adamant in prohibiting me from cutting my hair until it at least reaches my waist. I’ve never ever grown my hair that long and he knows it, so basically he’s insisting that I set a new personal record of hair length– by his request.

Anyway, since he already allowed me to burn his old photos, I guess it’s my turn to make allowances for him on this matter. Fair lah kan?