I Believe in Santa!

Preparing supper

Milk for Santa, carrot for Rudolph

Santa is thirsty

The milk and carrot are gone, mama! Look, son, they left something behind!!

I just love the smile on his face!

Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas!

The Boys. My Family.

The Celebration

In the midst of gloom, I tried to do things to cheer myself up.

We had a small tea time gathering for Lucas' full month, and had close friends come visit. We had, till then, largely declined visitors in the first month due to my medical condition.

It didn't happen without added stress of planning. Looking back, though, I am glad to have organized it. It was good to break away from the monotony of breast-feeding and hang out with some friends for a bit. A simple get-together, and a reminder that there exist a wonderful reason for celebration.

Darling Lucas, one month old

The Month After

The month post-delivery has been tough and a real challenge. We thought lightning wouldn't strike twice but it did. I was plagued with the same pee problem, marginally more manageable this time, but still problematic nonetheless. I had urine detention. Unable to pee, I had the catheter on twice, which completely killed me emotionally and physically. It hurt when I moved, it was messy when I breast-fed, it stopped me from moving freely when I carried Lucas, it was dreadful when I sat or laid down. I hated it.

The pain affected breast milk supply since it was hard to have a letdown. I told myself, chill - you've been through this before. But it was a mental struggle every time. I wanted to succeed with total breast-feeding.

Between dealing with my post-delivery complication, maintaining a punishing schedule to up my milk supply, being sleep deprived, and trying to be the super mom for Matthew as well, I fell into some sort of emotional yo-yo.

Then Lucas developed an abscess under his armpit, which had to be removed by a pediatric surgeon, so it was in and out of hospital 3 times for him. The procedure was painful for him as he was too young to have any form of anesthetic applied to him when the abscess was cut in order that the pus could be drained out.

I was in a mess. I was a mess.

Glad to have moved on and put the whole drama behind.

Presenting Baby Lucas

He took his time to come into our embrace, but no words can describe the joy of cradling another newborn in my arms once more. O, praise ye Lord, for this amazing gift and blessing.

Our baby Lucas, born 30 September 2011, weighing 3.7kg and standing tall at 53cm.

A Small Lesson on Giving

Matthew with his chosen gift for didi

Increasingly, Matt is aware of birthday parties and giving or receiving presents.

Previously, everything would be done without his knowledge. Presents are purchased and wrapped without his knowledge. If he knew the content of what lies underneath the wrapper, I doubt he would part with them so easily.

Because of his increasing awareness, I decided to involve him in choosing the gift, wrapping it (providing me some cutting and taping services), and giving it to his friend. May not be the noblest gift of time or effort, but I feel it builds some character to learn to part with something he really likes and want to keep for himself, and to do that joyfully.

Gift for Samuel kor-kor

Bluff Me

I have heard from many.

"Second, third kid usually early."

"Wah, you are carrying so low. Guarantee early!"

Warrau. Bluff my feeling.

Patiently waiting.

Out-Sourcing

With the baby due anytime, and unsure if I can manage especially when hubs travel, I have taken the first step in out-sourcing things I do every day for Matt. The first, after thinking long and hard.



The school bus.

I fetch him from school daily, so I decided to let him take the bus home instead. My heart aches just thinking about my little boy who is not even 4 taking a school bus all by himself. My only consolation - he loves buses. He was really excited when I talked to him about it the yesterday, giving him assurance that I will be at home to greet him.

Today, he got off with a big, big grin as he ran towards me and gave me a hug.

But we will still fetch him to school as I cannot bring myself to wake him up any earlier to catch the school bus.

Initiation to Art

I have never been good at drawing or anything in the creative department, and we have been slackers in this respect (and many more).

Over the weekend, hubs had a mission to impart his drawing and colouring skills to his son. He started, very cleverly I thought, with Matt's favourite toys. Using his vehicle toys as references, hubs drew the outline, and had Matt colour the pictures. And he also threw in a session of writing alphabets by writing his name on the artwork.

After just 2 days (and comparing the art work he brings home from school), Matt colouring strokes were a lot more confident and consistent, and he eagerly bugs us for "art class".

Well done, papa!

Moody

Sometimes my blog entries are not reflective of how I am feeling. Maybe cos I blog about more pleasant things to cheer myself up, or sometimes it concerns family members who might access this blog.

But I need to let it out.

I have been feeling very down lately. I feel like I am in the dumps. Been crying a lot, too.

I guess it is convenient to blame the hormones, but I think a large part of it is also because there are real problems with many things in the household.

For one, problem with in-laws, but lets not go there. Suffice to say that at a time when I most needed their help, they have withdrawn it from me. Whether intentionally or otherwise, I have cut them out from my life for the time being, out of disappointment, out of anger, but definitely as a defensive mode to prevent myself from having to deal with them. Less contact, less headache, less nonsense. It does mean things are tougher for me, but at least I have control over things, and that alone keeps me a little more sane. I think they have no clue that I am feeling this way, because I am never rude to them and am largely non-confrontational.

Two, my mother's health. One bad news after another. But with my mom, it is slightly different. She is as strong as she can be, without making us kids worry too much about her. She puts others ahead of herself, even in moments when she should be dependent on others. Although her health is not tip-top at the moment, she remains as positive as she can be, and I call her a lot to just chat, bitch about things (sometimes, dad pitches in, too), sometimes confide, sometimes cry. She is always objective and gives me sound advice. I miss her badly, and wish I can be with her, but we make the best out of the situation. We just call and feel close to each other.

Three, hubs. I feel it has been really hard trying to reach out to him. To let him know how I feel. To let him know I don't feel very loved. Of course, whatever moments we have, we made it a point to spend it with Matt, leaving us with even lesser time. He needs his personal time, I try to understand he holds a stressful job, and needs his break. But it doesn't mean I am happy. But it cannot always be about me. We talk, and he said he has tried his best, and is trying his best, so I will leave it at that. Sometimes it is all about expectations. When you don't have one, there is nothing to fall short of, and you get less angsty.

I joked that in ancient China, pregnant women literally get worshipped when they are pregnant. Eat well, no work, no stress, everything - as they wished it to be. What more if they are carrying a boy. In ancient times, where got scan? Mine confirmed boy some more, but I have no privileges. I want to be a princess!

Jokes aside, I think at some levels, I really want to be treated like a princess. Even if just for a day. But I guess circumstances just do not permit it.

As I approach 38 weeks of pregnancy, I can't help but feel apprehensive about everything. Wondering if I can cope, wondering if things with hubs will get better, even wondering if this is really what I want. Ever the optimist, hubs is positive everything will fall into place. Ever the worrier, I am not so sure.

And my blardy pelvic pain is not making things better. I think I would say it is up there somewhere on par with labour pain. Urgh.

I guess this is the last lap. I will waddle to the finishing line.

There's a Hospital Just Downstairs!

We were upstairs in his room, and I told Matt that when didi is ready, I will have to go to the hospital to give birth to didi, and I will not be around for a few days.


Matt has an idea of his own, though.

Here is where he wants me to give birth to didi - in his Tommy Takara hospital. He said there is a doctor there, too, who will scan didi. And it's just downstairs.

How Does He Know?!!

Matthew used to fall asleep himself but with me in the room, and would sleep through the night on his own after. However, ever since my hospitalization for hyperemesis in the first trimester, he would wake up in the middle of the night and call out for me, and I would have to waddle over to his room. Out of pregnancy fatigue, I have given up the battle of re-establishing the sleep regime with him, and just sleep with him all the way till the morning.

Some nights, I will steal away after he falls asleep and get hubs to sleep with him instead. But somehow, he would know it's not me, and will not fall asleep until I return to him. My mom says that it's him "acting up" with the arrival of a new sibling. Who knows.

But a little funny snippet.

Few nights ago, hubs barely fell asleep when the little boy stirred and did his usual stetch-hand-out-and-feel-if-someone(mama)-is-there. Hubs held his breath, and for a while, little Matt seemed convinced in his sleepiness that all was well.

Till he snuggled under the blankie and touched hubs legs.

Leg hair.

Sits up and examined the shape. And started bawling.

You'd never think they are observant about these little things, but guess they do. Time to make hubs shave his leg hair for some peaceful sleep. Heh! :-)

Excited about his DiDi

Matthew is excited about his didi. He would run often to kiss my tummy, and exclaims "didi, come out now! I want to play with you!"

We read him many books to prepare him for the arrival of his didi. There's a picture from Topsy and Tim: The New Baby where the big brother helps his mommy bathe the baby. He grinned from ear to ear when he saw it, and said, "Didi will shower in my boat (that's what he calls his bath tub), and I will help mama shower didi!"




Other things he says or does that makes me smile -

"I must be gentle if I sleep in the cot with didi. Otherwise, I will crush him."

"Mama kept all these toys for didi. These are toys for babies. I can play with big boys' toys."

In the early days, he thinks that my outie belly button IS didi!

When I am in the bed with him, I use a small pillow to shield my tummy from him in case he bumps into it in sleep. After a few times, he called it didi's pillow, and no one else can touch it other than me and him.

"Matthew came out of mama's tummy so didi can go inside!"

"Didi can only drink milk, but cannot drink juice. Only Matthew and my friends can drink juice from the fridge."

He chose a musical mobile as a gift for didi, and wanted to choose his own gift from didi. I told him I will bring didi to choose the gift, and he gives me a cheeky grin.

His very cute pronunciation of his didi's potential name made us kind of helped us choose that name over the rest.



At the moment, everything seems to point to him being ready to be a very caring big brother. The real test will come when baby is out and vies for my attention and time away from him. But I have faith that my sweet little Matthew will be the sweetest brother to his little didi.

Staying Home

So the decision has been made.

I am going to stay home full-time to look after my children.

And honestly, it scares the shit out of me!

I love Matt, I will love my akan datang baby boy, and I love being a mother.

But I do not know if I can cope.

You see, I have a big problem.

I am a very fang bu xia person, and I am capable of killing myself trying to do everything to perfection. Well, kids never let you have perfection, yet I am known to try till I become miserable, knowingly or unknowingly. That is my greatest pitfall.

And I do not t know if I will do a good job.

How do I know I am doing good? What will be my new Key Performance Indicators, KPIs as known in my job? That my kids know A,B,C and 1-100 by a certain age? Or if they get As, Bs or Cs in school? Or I guess I could possibly create some form of yardstick by pitching my kids against their peers?

Oh! God forbid that, considering how much emphasis I place on my children staying goofy!!

And not to mention this new job, if I may call it "a job", has no tangible benefits yeah? No annual leave, no MC days, no money.

What if my kids drive me mad? What if I am a horrible horrible mama as a result of staying full-time at home?

Well, it's not like it's day 1 that I am a mother. It's just that suddenly I am frightened, maybe so much so that I lost sight of why I am doing this in the first place. To manage my own family so hubs can go hunt in peace knowing that the home is in good hands. To have time with Matt, with di di, to look after them with my own bare hands. To enjoy time with them. To be there for them. To fully live the reason why we decided to have kids in the first place!

I don't know.

I guess best to do is not to over-think things.

I must have faith that I will be able to do it. Positive thinking. I must constantly remind myself that I must be a happy mother, above all else. And learn to laugh at myself a little, let go a lot more.

Apprehensive as I may be, I am very much looking forward to my new role. Wish me luck!

Nasty Cough

Matt developed a rather nasty cough where he was hacking almost every second, literally. It got so bad that his throat and stomach hurt each time he coughed. Temperature yo-yo-ed for days on end, and he could hardly sleep at night despite medication which made him drowsy. He would look at me with sad eyes and repeatedly say, "mama, please help me!"

But nothing I did could soothe him or made him feel any better, and it sucked! :( All I could do was spend time with him, give him cuddles, although it was also hard to do that with a bulging tummy.

He finally showed signs of recovery after 3 such days, and I am relieved beyond words.

I developed fever myself from all that lack of sleep and managing the ship on my own while hubs was traveling, but it is always easy to manage my own discomfort. Just seeing him happy and himself again already made me feel better. My fever has since subsided, just a looming sore throat that is slowly but surely going away.

33 Weeks Pregnant

At 33 weeks pregnant, I am very tired. All the time. Since about 30 weeks maybe? I do not recall being this tired with Matt. I think it only set in much much later towards the EDD with him.

I also have this pain near my groin area which I did not experience with Matt. The pain is particularly excruciating when I change sides in my sleep, or attempt to get up. I am assuming this is normal. A check around with pregger friends - it is apparently very common. Again, this is something new compared to my previous pregnancy.

I get tired even from doing nothing. It's crazy. I am ever so thankful for hubs who tries to relieve me every weekend. He wakes up early every Saturday morning to do the wet marketing. He also prepares meals for the family. Sometimes, he he would bring Matt for outings so I can rest. For example, last weekend, he woke up early to prepare breakfast for the family and brought us all out to the park for a picnic. Then I spent my morning watching people taichi while he brought Matt to the playground. Bliss!

I am also finally getting myself to start preparing for the arrival of the little one. Over the past 2 - 3 weekends, we took out Matt's baby stuff - tested the sterilizer, the breastmilk pump, built his baby cot, the works. I did a stock take on Matt's old clothes, and washed whatever's still wearable. Looking at especially the mittens and booties, can't believe Matt was that tiny before! Having another baby, a boy while at that, and the economies of scale that comes with it certainly quite pleaseth me :)

The excitement is slowly building up.

Who's the Big Bully?!

Matt came home with a bruise above his lip, and I asked him what happened, if any of his friends hit him.

His reply - yes!

I asked him who? And was it an accident?

He said, "The chair, mama!"

What Is Wrong With Me?

It's Friday night, and I am home alone waiting for Matthew to come home from my in-laws. I have been expecting him for the last 40 minutes but he is still not back.

I was supposed to have a date night out with hubs and some friends. I have been looking forward to it. I put on make-up, all ready for a nice dinner after a hectic week. Hubs have been working late a lot. We only manage to talk on the way to work.

But date night didn't happen. In-laws wanted me back early. So I asked hubs to go ahead, he needed a break, too. I came home to eat a lonely dinner of tuna sandwich and a sweet potato.

I am emotional. Doesn't help that hubs already has 3 trips lined up for next 2 weeks. Which means he will be away. Which means I will go at everything solo.

I don't know how to handle this well. I am tired. I am just feeling very emotional. I want to take it out on someone, something. I feel a lot of angst in me, wishing for more support from the people around me. Is it right to expect though? I think I may have too much on my plate - heavily pregnant, mom not tip-top and me feeling lousy I am so far away from her, hubs extremely busy at work, my boss working me hard ahead of my maternity. But everyone has different things on their plates, too.

Sometimes, I am so tired I even feel like "hiding" from Matt. Like when I get to leave work early and reach home ahead of the usual time, I don't want him home just yet. I want to lie down to stone for a while. But I remind myself he is my son, my responsibility. And really, he brings cheer to me. So I get him home.

But tonight I wanted a break. I didn't quite get it. And it sucks.

Am I normal to feel the way I do?

Paris / London Summer 2011

This trip was so last minute that when I confirmed our flight tickets, I could check-in online right away. Less than 48 hours before departure time, we were still searching for hotels in Paris and London, planning our itinerary and stressing over everything including packing for a summer that was apparently not quite summer according to the weather reports (I was close to 7 months pregnant, and we HAD TO travel light because London and Paris are such walking cities).

A trip meant more for Matt above all other factors, we psyched ourselves up for Disneyland Europe and Legoland Windsor. Happy places. While he still enjoyed the usual tame boat, train rides and the works, Matt showed a clear preference for the more exciting rides this trip especially the wilder roller-coasters. Hubs told me of his incessant "Again! Again! Lets do it again!" pleas the moment he gets off these rides. Hubs had to take all these rides with him since I am not allowed on most of them. I managed to get many good photos of them on the rides because I was busy most of the time planting myself on strategic spots to capture the best angles of the rides.


Disneyland Paris and Legoland Windsor



In Paris, days were spent sight-seeing the Eiffel Tower, the Lourve, and we took the BATOBUS, a river boat shuttle service which covered most of the major tourist sites.

In London, we stayed near Hyde Park and spent a lot of time just bumming at the park, watching squirrels gnaw at their nuts, swans pecking vainly at their furs, largely enjoying the great weather sitting around doing nothing. Tucked at one corner of Hyde Park was the Princess Diana Memorial Playground, which is one of the best playgrounds I have ever been to. Matt bugged us every day while we were in London to bring him there.


The very excellent Princess Diana Memorial Playground


We paid many rounds of 1.50pounds on this rescue vehicle carousel outside the playground

Food-wise, in Paris generally, if we went to restaurants serving real French food, Matt would not have much choice at the restaurants. As such, we dined at cafes mostly (a sore point with hubs since we were in land of foie gras!) and were spaghetti bolognaised and steak frites -out in Paris cos those were the easiest to feed Matt given his lack of adventure with food. In London though, we had great great Chinese food most of the time. This trip, Matt fell in love with the sweet & sour varieties, which he calls "fish / pork with ketchup". No prizes for guessing what dishes I will try and perfect at home :)

We had planned on visiting museums but I felt too tired from walking so much that we abandoned the plan. I also had grand plans of shopping for stuff from stores such as Mothercare where the mark-ups in Singapore are crazily exorbitant, but did not manage to even go anywhere near the shops. The same happened in Paris - very minimal shopping considering my love affairs with bags.

Weather was lovely, sunny but cool, with temperatures hovering around 14-20C. Since it was summer, we had really long days, and at 10pm, it was still as bright as it in Singapore as say, 4pm.

We would have loved to cover more places than what we managed to, but I also did not want to over-tax myself. As hubs said, we will definitely return. At the end of the day, we live for this face -

Langkawi 2011

Not quite in the mood to blog recently. A bit of an unhappy period of time, so I will blog on our recent trips to lift my moods.

We took 2 trips in a span of 2 months despite me being 5 - 6 months pregnant, mainly in recognition of the fact that we are likely to be grounded for a while once the baby is out. Another factor driving the decisions was the desire to spend as much time as we can with Matt before the little one arrives.

In May, we went to Langkawi. We were deciding between Bali and Langkawi, but settled for the latter as the flight was shorter since I was halfway through pregnancy and was getting big.

We were both super busy before the trip to do too much planning. The idea was to just get away from it all. I wasn't too convinced that it would do me any good. I thought, I would rather spend the time sleeping at home through that 4 days. Hubs also had his reservations because he was extremely busy at work. The only happy trooper was Matthew.

But somehow, resorts have this ability to make you just let go. For 4 days, we didn't watch the time, woke up late, hardly checked the phone, did nothing when we didn't feel like doing anything, ate trash. It was bliss.



We went canoeing, which, unfortunately, Matt didn't quite enjoy. We swam in the morning and in the evening every day in the villa pool. Because we spent so much time in the pool (and bath tub), Matt really improved in his water abilities and he can finally blow bubbles underwater, and moving along the pool wall for rather long distances by clinging on to the edge of the pool with his fingers. We also did some sight-seeing - took a very scary cable car ride at Oriental Village, walked an equally scary curve hanging bridge, visited the Underwater World Langkawi, and walked through a pasar malam, a first for my little boy.









It was a good getaway.

Happiness is looking at happiness looking back at me. Such a cheeky monkey face never fails to bring a smile to my moodiest day.

Matt Meets Mr Baldy

I was back in Malaysia last week, and hubs and Matt flew in only after ma's surgery.

Hubs had his first I-need-to-dig-a-hole-and-hide-right-now moment, courtesy of Matt.

They were seated behind a bald man, and our dear son, who is in a very descriptive phase of verbal development, LOUDLY and PROUDLY exclaimed -

"That man has no hair!! He has no hair!"

Silence.

No reaction from the man. Minutes later, the man puts on his cap.

Hubs was just glad he brought along books, blueberries, sweets and 2 little toys to distract Matt who also happened to be in a "repetitive" phase of development - he can say something a zillion times just for the fun of it. Thank goodness it was a short flight!

Ma Ill

Since my horrible first tri, I have had more balls up in the air than I am able to juggle. Matt hospitalized, maid problems, in-laws not well. Major and unpleasant, but, short-lived, thankfully.

But they just keep coming. The latest being ma is ill. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Big :(

I was in Paris when I received the news. My brother sms-ed me. My heart just sank. I felt so awful I was not able to be with her to give her the support she so needed. I composed myself, then called her and tried to be brave about it, but I just broke down and the 2 of us were
crying over the phone.

There and then, I wanted to cut short my trip. But I had just landed after a 13-hour flight, and was tired as hell. After thinking it through and praying about it, I decided it was best to play my role as a wife and mother - have the break that both hubs (and I) so needed, and enjoy one last holiday with Matt before the new addition comes along - then return home and deal with the issue at hand. There was really nothing I could do to change that fact, so I just called ma and spoke to her regularly.

"Doctor said best to remove the breast. Second opinion also the same."

So to cut a long story short, that is what she will be doing soon. We are hoping the cancer is at early stages, which doctor feels is likely the case. I am keeping my fingers crossed and praying really hard.

I asked her how she feels about losing one of her boobs. "Aiyah, not that your dad is interested in them anymore. Lao liao. Anyway, he said still got one." I am not sure if she is putting up a brave front, but to still be able to have a sense of humour, I do really admire her.

I am sad that she has to go through the physical pain of going through 2 surgeries in such a short span of time, at her age (she's almost 70!), and the emotional trauma that accompanies the whole thing. I only wish I can be there for her more, but I am so far away, and I am nearing the time when air travel is prohibited for the stage of pregnancy I am in.

Lego

Matt likes Lego, and builds ONLY big mega structures. Like this ...

... and this ....

The first one, he says it's an ark, after Noah's Ark. The size is huge, as is in the story, but the similarities end there. On all his arks, there must be a house "for mama to cook in", and "flowers for mama" (the red thing sticking out next to the house). Then there are many captains, and there is a crane to help build the big ark. But no animals.

The second one, it's his steam train.

18 Weeks Pregnant

So many negative blog entries lately, wanna move on to something happy :)

I am expecting another boy!! :-)

At the 16th weeks scan, as with the 9th and 12th week scan, the little tyke was actively squirming around. Then my gynae scanned between his legs, lo and behold, we saw that cute little willy willy :)

Gynae: Do you want to know the sex of the baby?
Hubs: I think we know hahahaha!

We went home and we told Matt Matt he will have a didi, and we asked if he can share his toys with him. Initially, it was an outright no! But slowly, his sweet demeanor shows through.

He comes to me with some toys. Then he lifts my t-shirt and places a tow truck on my tummy."Share with didi!," he says, pulling down my t-shirt to cover my tummy and the truck. I point to his new excavator. "How about that? Share with didi also?" New toys are out of bounds, I guess, and he becomes defensive. "No, only tow truck." I tried again. "Then didi will have no excavator, and he will be sad." He thought for a bit, then lifted my shirt, took the tow truck out and placed the excavator on my tummy. "Didi touch only. No cover shirt!"

Hahaha! I had a good laugh, and gave him one big cuddle. I hope he stays sweet like this.

It Really is in the Air

When the pedi told us that the stomach virus Matt caught is "just in the air," I complained to hubs in the car - "Warrau! Pay so much just to hear this kind of advice."

But it really is just that. In the air. Hubs caught the stomach virus last Friday just by hanging around Matt, and puked and diarrhea-ed the long weekend away, with fever spiralling up and down. He spent 3 days in bed, with hardly any food intake, feeling weak and miserable. He said he never felt this awful from stomach virus before, and wondered how Matt must've suffered while in the hospital.

I was worried I would come down with it, too, since I was the closest to him in the hospital. To worsen things, Matt, with low immunity after having just barely recovered, caught the flu bug from his cousin on Saturday, and last night, his fever spiked up to almost 39C. People tell me pregnant ladies have stronger immunity, but I think the flu is the last straw for me. I am somewhat coming down with fever and a cough.

Anyways, since the viruses these days are crazily scary and we can catch it just like that, I think the best way to stave off illnesses is really to keep ourselves in tip top state of health. Me thinks eating well is key, and getting enough sleep is vital. Enhance with some vitamins if need be. I started Matt on probiotics and cod liver oil sometime back, but was never diligent at it, as I am with my own vitamins. Guess I better buck up. Oh, some exercise if time permits, but that's a tough one for me at the moment.

Can't wait for hubs to come home from his business trip tomorrow. Badly need to sleep.

We Hate Hospitals

The Easter weekend that passed has been one of the worst weekends. Matthew was hospitalized for what the pedi said was a very serious of stomach virus.

It started out with a lack of appetite Friday dinner. By bedtime, he had a major laosai, followed by 2 rounds of vomiting. Saturday morning, we brought him to the pedi, and he threw up couple of times in the car despite not having any food intake. We were sent home after an anti-vomit jab, and asked to monitor closely. Matt was mightily thirsty, and fought with us for water and Hydralite. After one hour, he threw up all the fluids he consumed. I started to worry, and when he threw up again after another hour, we made our dreaded journey to the pedi who checked him and ordered for admission to the hospital for drip as by then, he was dehydrated and lethargic.

My very lethargic baby :(

I hope no one's kid ever has to go through the trauma of having to have a drip. Despite already so weak, he fought so hard against the nurse who bundled him up in a blanket and used her entire body weight to pin him down while the pedi inserted the needle into the back of his hand. Matt is very strong, and he cried and fought till his face was tomato-red. All I could do was helplessly stroke his head and prayed for Jesus to take all his pain away. As hard as I tried to stay strong for him, I was crying equally hard and wished with all my heart I could be the one taking the pain on his behalf.

His left hand was also bounded to a cast to prevent him from yanking out the drip from the right hand, rendering him completely handicapped. Naturally, it traumatized him badly - he'd wake up from his naps to yell at me to remove them, then fall right back to sleep. My heart broke each time it happened.


Exhausted after fighting with the nurse; So weak, stoning away on the hospital bed

The first time it happened was about 2.5 hours after the drip was first administered. He managed to fall asleep, but then woke up 1.5 hours later screaming for me to take the drip out. That was when I noticed his cast was wet. So was the bed where his hand rested. I examined closer, and saw some blood under the tape. I summoned the nurse, and when she removed the tape, the sight that greeted me filled me with first, fear, then anger. Matt was screaming all the while, presumably from pain? Then I was angry. How did it happen? Who screwed up? Why did they not check that they connected the drip to the needle insert tightly? But more so, I was angry that precious hours ticked by with unsuccessful treatment that he so badly needed. I was alone then for hubs had gone for reservist, and between consoling Matt and having to go through the trauma all over again of correcting the needle, I could not do anything else.



The next 3 days in the hospital was all about pacifying and comforting him. He refused to let me out of sight whenever he was awake, and even with me sitting beside him, he'd be sobbing or outrightly having mega burst of tears. We had to monitor that he doesn't throw up. He had zero appetite, and we fed him Hydralite to give him some energy. Fever yoyo-ed for the entire duration. We kept him happy with Iggle Piggle. In our eagerness to cheer him up, we made a mistake when we took out his favourite truck because he was unable to hold it. He begged me to take the drip out, and begged me to bring him home. I felt so helpless.

Then on Monday, despite pedi's uncertainty, we asked to be discharged as we felt that Matt would probably recover better at home. He was still largely lethargic, not eating much except some bites of biscuits and bread, but he was drinking and keeping the fluids down. Another round of trauma taking the needle out, then we were out of the hospital.

Elated when I told him we were going home!

On Tuesday, though, he threw up twice, and I panicked and wondered if I made a bad decision. I worried through the night until our check-up the next morning. Miraculously, his energy returned on Wednesday, but pedi said he was not out of the woods. But he proved the pedi wrong, and he demanded for beef and rice which we fed and he chomped down greedily at lunch AND at dinner. He had a mega outbreak of very itchy rashes all over his body especially at his joints, caused either by the virus, or a new anti-diarrhea medicine we introduced that morning. By Thursday, the rashes cleared, and he was eating his meals regularly. We avoided milk still, as we suspected the 5 tablespoon he demanded from us caused the relapse on Tuesday.

I am exhausted, but I am just glad this whole episode is over and my little boy is healthy again. I wish I knew more specifically what caused this bout of virus so I can take steps to prevent it, but it's hard to pinpoint. All I can do is to pray that he never catches it again, ever.

Back-Breaking Activities

Papa is a flatbed truck!


Running in the air! (struggling against being carried by papa to do things I don't wanna do!)

The Head of the Household

Now, the big boy. The man of the family.

Poor, poor hubs had to bear the brunt of running the entire household, looking after me and Matt, and still working in a merciless client-driven job. On top of that, cope with a sudden surge in business travels which added on to the stress of leaving the family behind, worried sick if we'd be able to cope.

He had to do grocery shopping, cook Matt's meals during the weekends, made sure I had food to eat every 2-3 hours before my gastric hit me, instruct the (problematic) maid what to do, and above all, stay positive for the family.

You'd think I'd be the most grateful wife, but sometimes I am extremely demanding and moody, which made things difficult for him. We bickered some. I scolded him sometimes for what now I remember not, but I was hormonal and wanted company all the time. He would rush home from work early whenever he could, only to be working from home and answering endless work calls, which sometimes made me mad. I tried to be understanding, but it was a trying time for everyone.

Yet the only thing he says is, "It's okay that I am tired, but it's not okay that I see a sad face every time I come home"

I guess it's not that I was sad, but I was just in pain and was tired, smiling would be completely faking it although eventually, I struck a I-am-strong pose flexing my weak arms up which made him smile.

That's our way of keeping things going. Cute funny actions that break the intensity of things, and having the faith that things will tide over in no time. And I just have to keep reminding myself that he has done his utmost best in the given situation, and not conveniently take it out on him just because he is the closest person to me.

The Little Boy

During my down time recently, my two boys have been amazing! Lets start with Matthew.

This little one surprised us with his maturity. When I was hospitalized, we wondered if we should let him come visit me given his stickiness to me. Hubs decided to bring him anyway, but not without explaining in depth what was happening. While he wasn't sure if the little one understood completely (or whether he would accept the explanation when it was time to leave), he also felt that it was plain cruelty to not let him see his mama for days.

I heard his voice outside my room, and when he toddled in, the joy on his face ... oh my! Ok, maybe mine, too. He hugged me, kissed me, sayang-ed my face before he got busy with the up/down lever on my bed, the movable food table, the tube going into my hand, and the works. After about 45 minutes or so, when it was time to leave, he started to protest with incessant chants of "I want mama!" but reluctantly toddled over and hugged me with a downcast face after a session of pep talk. No tears.

After I was discharged from the hospital, we naturally had to make adjustments at home. One was sending him to my in-laws after school every day till after dinner. Two was having hubs go through the whole bedtime routine with him and putting him to sleep. Matt really did not like it initially and struggled to fall sleep, resulting in late sleeping nights. He accepted it over time, but it didn't stop me from feeling guilty.

Whatever it was, he knew "mama is sick", "mama needs to rest" and "I cannot disturb mama", phrases he would repeat to himself as he goes to his room with papa.

We struggled somewhat when he fell ill, and in his sleep / naps, he would sometimes cry "I want mama!" There was even once in his groggy state (from his medication), he toddled over half-conscious to my room and clambered up onto my bed to sleep on me.


So so tired, and a little insecure


Every night when he came home, he would run up to check on me, and if I was awake, he'd ask for me to rock him. Completely broke my heart.

But given his character, I am very proud of him for coping pretty well with the abrupt changes in our family.

All For a Good Reason

The last 7 weeks or so have been rather trying.

I was hospitalized over CNY. I threw up every other hour, and when I saw blood in my vomit and a pee that was orangey red, I knew I had to seek professional help. I was admitted to A&E, and was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum - extreme, persistent nausea and vomiting that led to dehydration. 2-nights at the hospital and 8 packs of drip later, I was discharged and sent home to rest. I was also administered jab to ease the severe gastric spasms. I have been on home rest since.

The weeks that ensued were so tough, I look back now and wondered how I survived. I continued to throw up every day, up to 7 times a day. By evening, vomit would be bloody, which by then I learnt was a result of my oesophagus having been burnt by my stomach acid. I could not eat a thing, which resulted in a mad cycle of gastric spasms, stomach churning which rendered me literally paralyzed in bed, except for the quick dashes to the bathroom when the urge to throw up came. My blood pressure was extremely low.

I tried to eat, but it was impossible with my burnt throat. Not eating exacerbated the gastric. I forced myself to eat, only to throw up again. I found respite in sleeping which came easily because I was so weak. When I woke up, I paid the price - I could feel the acid all the way up to my throat.

I was too weak to even cry. Or pray. Except to cry out in my heart for God to help me and give me strength.

I got friends to pray for me. I asked my parents to make a trip down from Malaysia and stay with me. I sub-contracted Matt out to my in-laws every day after school till after his dinner. On days when hubs travelled, I felt like dying.

I tried to stay positive. All for a good reason, I tell myself. But it was really, really trying. After 5 weeks of throwing up and gastric spasms, I started breaking down. Every day. Each time that I puked, I'd cry. At times, I wasn't sure if I could take it anymore.

But I also knew God would not lead me to where His grace cannot sustain me.

Faith brought me this far. Friends' prayers. Support from parents and in-laws. And love from hubs and Matt.

And also the visits to the gynecologist. At 9 weeks scan, the little one waved at us, as if assuring me that despite it all (me not eating or drinking, me vomiting), he/she is doing okay. I almost wept in the clinic. At 12 weeks scan, the little one somersaulted right in front of us, facing down when the scan started, and doing a run-about turn to face up as the gynae prodded at him/her. Active one I've got :)

Things started easing up in the last 2 weeks or so. I now puke max of twice a day, and can stomach more food. The gastric is gone. The throat still feels parched, that will take time to heal, I suppose.

I look forward to better days ahead. And I praise God every day for this precious gift.

Gymnastics

I started Matt at the SJ Gymnastics last month, and he has been loving it. We wanted to expose him to something else other than swimming, and thought that gymnastics would be good for general physical development in terms of strength, coordination and flexibility. He enjoyed the trial class, so there was no turning back since.

For now, the coach is happy for Matt to just explore and have a feel of the trampoline, the balance beam, the high bar, uneven bars, even the vault. I am happy that he enjoys the class, although at times, I feel he is not really listening well to instructions yet to be fully reap the benefits of the class. But I am a sucker for happy faces and ear-to-ear grins. Just as with swimming, the exposure made him comfortable in, and not be fearful of, water, and most importantly, he was having fun. So the same will apply for the gymnastics class. As long as he is happy.

on the balance beam

chuckling away on the still rings

Separation Anxiety

Somehow, something is happening (or has happened) to Matthew, and he is experiencing some serious separation anxiety issues all over again, similar to this and this.

Starting at the new school could have been the root cause, although I do not think so because he seems happily adjusted to it, and as of last week and this morning, he literally skipped from the car to the classroom.

Or perhaps I have also attempted "drop-off" at Sunday School and at Berries. The only negative experience was at Sunday School where I did it with force, but at Berries, I accompanied him throughout.

Whatever the reason, it gets rather exasperating that he wants only me to do the mundanest of stuff. Like brush his teeth in the morning. And no one can take his pyjamas off. No one else can touch or read his books. No one else can feed him breakfast. No one else can bring him to pee pee. I must sit next to him when he drinks his milk. He must hold my hand when walking from the sofa to the dining table. In the house.

Plus he has added a new dimension to his stickiness this time round. He outrightly rejects his papa. Kicks him even, in the most spoilt-child manner. Refuses to let his daddy touch any of his toys. If daddy wakes him up from his slumber, I'd better not be sitting on the throne doing my business, but be ready to soothe his nerves.

Please let this be short-lived.

Motherhood

A friend shared this note by someone on FB by the name of Amanda Motl, a note she wrote about motherhood which I thought was beautifully written. Sharing it here ...

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentiones that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."

"We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations ..."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read the newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your own child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.

That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.

She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, the issue of independence and gender identity will be weighted against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesearan scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honour. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the babr or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God ... that of being a Mother.

My Cheeky Boy

I Have Become My Mom

I remember trips home to my parents' when I was a little girl (since I was 13!) during my schooling years in Singapore. I would step off the train - my ma would hug me and cry. For one, she was very happy to see me. Two, she always felt I was malnourished, not getting enough food staying in the hostel, and would always beat herself up for sending me away so young!

So she was always on a mission during these school vacations - to fatten me up in that one month, twice a year. It was a joy to her to put food into my mouth. I think I ate 5 meals a day. It was as if I ate 6 months worth of food in 1 month. As I grew older, we would inevitably fight. Cos the amounts were impossible, and I didn't want to grow fat! And it would always end with her saying, "you don't understand, one day when you are a mother, then you will." In my angsty teenage ways, I would just stomp off after eating some.

Then I grew even older.

I began to understand that it was her way of easing her pain of not being there for me when I am so far away. It was her way of telling me she cares. It was her way of showing love. Till this day, she still feeds me more food than I can possibly eat each time I head back to my home town.

Still, I rebelled against her whenever I got sick of eating, although I try not to.

Now that I am a mother, I completely understand.

It counts as one great joy to be see Matt enjoy the food I cook for him. I am happy when I put food into his mouth. I am pleased and take great pride that the food I cook contain little or no msg. It makes me happy when I see him eat and grow physically strong. It saddens me when he doesn't have appetite when he is ill. I get stressed when he doesn't want to eat. Then I get happy all over again once his appetite returns.

It's crazy indeed. I guess I now feel what my mother feels each time she feeds me, as I do with my little boy.

More on School

Tueday was like Monday. Bleah.

Wednesday was a 180 turnaround. He waved bye bye after hugging me, and went with his teacher. And after school when I fecthed him, I was told he didn't cry at all.

Today was like Monday and Tuesday. Protest, crying. We parted on negative energies.

I asked him every night if he likes school. He will smile and talk to me about his bread and strawberry jam (his morning snack), tells me his teachers' names, and his friend's (he only knows Clarissa). I tried to rationalise why the erratic crying since I thought we had it nailed yesterday.

The only thing I did different yesterday was to tell him in the car that I was going to work. Today, because we were rushing, I only said that to him as I was handing him over to the teacher.

Lets see, maybe giving him a heads-up earlier helps him.

Numb

Second day of school last Friday, I just spent all my time with him in the class and not stay by the sideline. I did not attempt to distance myself. Cos seriously, it does not work.

Me: Matthew, mama has to go .. ?
M: Work work ... (gives a fierce hug, clings on like a koala) .. I don't want mama go work work!

He knows it. But doesn't mean he will accept it.

I know it has to be by force. Like this morning. The very pitiful scrunched up face. The tears. The plea. The wail. So real. So heartbreaking. I told the teacher, please take him forcefully away from me. I threw him a quick kiss. And just walked out.

I hate it. He hates it.

Why are we even doing this?

We drive silently out from the school. Hubs says he'll be okay. I know he will. But doesn't mean it doesn't hurt each time we go through it.

The gray weather certainly did not help my mood. I miss my little boy.

He Goes To School

We meant for Matthew to start school "officially" this year when we signed him up for N2 after the dilemma. The "official" start date was thwarted as months passed by because we were convinced he needed a "prolonged orientation" to get familiar to the idea of being away from me, from home, from comfort, so away he went to school at the childcare.

So, this is the real thing. A school school. Today is Day 1.

We woke up a good 1.5 hours earlier than usual, but I think I struggled more than him in this respect. I am just so not an early person. He slept badly through the night despite being at the tail-end of his cough/flu, so he is now deep in his afternoon nap, hopefully a long one.

I think his first day at the childcare 5 months ago was more emotional for me, I just felt like I was losing my little boy who is going to grow up faster once he starts school. No such emotion this morning, perhaps because I was also groggy from lack of sleep. He started to whine when he saw the new uniform (which is very similar to the one at the childcare), but he did not have much time to protest because everything was wham bam baroom bam bam. Breakfast was given on the way to school in the car.


Arriving in school, still chewing his bread

The children start the day singing praise and worship songs in the assembly hall, after which they go to their respective classrooms. I knew separation anxiety was going to be an issue, and I thought I would take it one day at a time, although the faster and earlier we do it, the quicker the anxiety will end. Not on the first day, I thought, it would be unfair on him, but I had a go at it nonetheless. That small part of me that hopes for no separation anxiety nudged me on, so I gently told him I had to go work, but I will pick him up after school.

He knew exactly which of my buttons to press, and with that scrunched up face with tears welling up so quick and that pitiful "mama" cry, I quickly decided that today was not the day to push it, what with lack of sleep, plus he's still recovering from his cough & flu.

So I stayed on with him till the end, observing all the children - some crying, some smiling, some stoning, and one really bossy kid. I chatted with some parents, all standing by the sideline giving support to their kids but knowing they will eventualyl have to pull that plug in the next few days. I observed the teachers, they seem to be in control despite the seemingly crazy mess of 16 children going in 16 different directions.


My buddy, Clarissa

In the midst of the organized chaos, I had some private moments when Matt was engrossed with his activities, and that was when I became somewhat emotional. Looking at him pitter-pattering around the class, he has changed so much in the last one year. He's a very sweet boy, and I am quite proud how he has turned out. I hope school can fill the areas where I have not quiet successfully nurtured him, although I can't help feeling like I am losing my little boy who is probably going to grow up so so so fast henceforth. Maybe these are silly thoughts, but I was fighting back tears thinking them. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, maybe it's the mid-cycle hormones ...


The stoning and the yawning came towards end of session

The hours passed by quickly, although he couldn't wait for his first day in school to end. He happily hopped home, because he is holding hands with mama dearest, whose thoughts have already wandered to the days beyond when the dreaded separation anxiety sets in.

Movie-Going

The very excellent Bourne Ultimatum was the movie I last watched. I enjoyed every minute of that heart-racing, non-stop action movie. Matthew was kicking inside me throughout the show, perhaps in acknowledgement that he felt the excitement I was feeling. I remember I was big as a whale pregnant with my boy, a few weeks away from full-term.

This was more than 3 years ago. Last Monday, we went to the cinema. Our first movie since Bourne Ultimatum. Since Matt was born. I escaped work early and and watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at 4pm with hubs. We were excited like little kids, buying popcorn and drinks, and sitting in the dark theatre. Like good ol' dating days.

We haven't been to the movies for so long because it has been hard to afford that 2.5-hour stretch away from Matthew. We have our couple night every Friday night, but I have a curfew set by my little boy. After hubs get off work, we have a maximum of 2.5 hours to kill, just enough for a relaxed dinner and perhaps a quick errand before it's time to head home to put Matt to bed. I can push that curfew to past midnight, but it will involve him crying until he falls asleep. The tears are surely not worth a movie, me thinks.

Hopefully, we will watch our next movie in 6 months time, when Part II of the same movie is out. Well, even if we fail, there's always the DVD ... or read the book ...

1.1.11

Didn't think anything significant would happen today, but ...

he finally royally pooped into the toilet bowl today!

He bought my tale of how we have no more diapers cos mama forgot to buy, and unwillingly did Round 1. Heaps of praises, hugs, and as promised, I let him open his racing car present from Christmas. I put on his diaper for bed (he promptly forgot the earlier tale), and saw him straining. Confiscated the racing car, which upset him but he felt threatened enough to obediently trudge to the toilet for Round 2. God only knows how many times I have begged, bribed and threatened him in my quest to toilet-train him in the last one year, but he never cared.

I am over the moon! It was long in coming, but the breakthrough finally did happen. I am majorly majorly proud of him! What a great 1.1.11!