Al-Fatihah Datuk Dr Nik Zainal

Before breakfast this morning, Mak asked me, "The doctor who died is your friend's dad, right?"

I looked at her, puzzled, "Which doctor?"

"The one who died yesterday, in an accident. Dr Nik Zainal. It was in the papers, front page. Don't you read the papers?"

"I do...well, I read The Star. Maybe it was only in Utusan (Malaysia)."

"It's in all the papers."

So during breakfast I searched for yesterday's news - and there it was. Front page on Utusan Malaysia, and a small column in the middle of The Star that I somehow missed (in the midst of exclaiming to my brother how such a small state like Malacca could bestow more than 600 awards and honours - but that's a different story).

It was a big shock. Just a few days ago, I had mentioned his name to my late father's friend who was telling us about his house in Janda Baik. Dr Nik Zainal also has a weekend getaway in that area. Recently too, there was an article in the papers on Jalan San Ah Wing, which is where the family residence is. And I remember only too clearly that the last time I went to Jalan San Ah Wing was for another friend's funeral.

His daughter, Nik Serena, and I were close friends during A-Levels. In fact we continued to be close friends even throughout and after university but sadly I've lost touch with her since she now lives in England (again, the stupid excuse of distance, work and family comes in). The occasions on which I met Dr Nik Zainal were very few and far between, several years in fact. But he always treated me kindly on those occasions, and even remembered my name and the fact that I studied in Oundle with his daughter. I remember also the fun weekend Serena and I spent in Newcastle when we visited her brother who was studying medicine then. Warmth and friendliness run in their genes.

My most heartfelt condolences to the family of a man who not only contributed so greatly to the country, but did so in the greatest manner possible. May Allah bless your soul, Uncle Nik.

Erra Fazira marries Engku Emran - Pt 2

As promised, some photos from the akad nikah last Thursday night. No photos of the bride and groom though - there'll be plenty of those in the mags and other websites.

Flower arrangements at the restaurant create a garden woodland atmosphere.

Gifts for the guests. Instead of the customary bunga telur, each guest received a kitab (book of Islamic teachings) in a lovely gift box.

The pelamin (wedding dais). However there was no bersanding ceremony so the pelamin just acted as a backdrop for the occasion. I love the concept though - very traditional, just the way I would have liked it.

Today Aiesyah is 3 weeks old

- which means I'm past the halfway mark of my Confinement. Hurray!!!

Below is a list of things I'm dying to do after my confinement:

1. Have breakfast at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf - something with smoked salmon and eggs. But first I'll have to locate my Loyalty Card.
2. Have Spaghetti Carbonara for lunch. I was planning to cook it the day I delivered Aiesyah, but obviously never got round to it. Hubby actually offered to buy me some when I was in labour, but I thought the baby was going to come quickly so I told him not to bother. Menyesal la pulak. Apparently the cafe at MPH One Utama serves a decent one. Will check it out.
3. Have an espresso affogato. Or caramel latte. Or kopi kampung. Maybe all three at one sitting. Most likely will combine it with number 1 or number 2 or both. But kopi kampung not available at number 1, and can only get it with number 2 if preparing number 2 myself at home. So maybe all three at one go is not so practicable. Not too keen on a triple dose of caffeine either.
4. Check out the new Gardens at MidValley. On a weekday so I don't have to deal with the crowd.
5. Check out the new Pavilion at Bukit Bintang. On another weekday so I don't have to deal with the crowd.
6. Do all of the above with Hubby. Obviously this can only happen when he comes back for his next RnR - which coincidentally is somewhere around Christmas. I can't hold back my cravings that long. And by then I won't have anymore free weekdays to spend running around new shopping complexes, so looks like I'll have to fly solo.

And here's a list of things I need to do post-confinement:

1. Transfer ownership of the house in TTDI Jaya at MBSA. I thought the lawyers would get this done when they prepared the SPA. Turns out it's not part of their job and I have to do it myself. Bluergh.
2. Settle outstanding balance at Home's Harmony and book date to put up curtains in TTDI Jaya house. This is not so bluergh as Home's Harmony is right next to MPH at One Utama, so can combine Need 2 with Want 2. And a third of Want 3. And can also check out any other books I need to complete my tax-deductible expenditure of RM700.
3. Settle into a regime of expressing breastmilk. This is crucial to be able to do Wants 1 to 5 unless I intend to bring baby along on all those trips. Therefore need to find my trustworthy Avent ISIS pump or invest in a new one. I'll need it for when I get back to work as well.
4. Say Hello to my condominium at Damansara Perdana. It's been ages since I've been back, I can hardly remember what it looks like. Need to declutter prior to move to new house.
5. Buy myself some new nursing undergarments. Wonder if I can find these in KL.
6. Have Hubby do all these things for me. Hang on, that's a Want, not a Need, so this one doesn't count either.

P/S One more to add to both lists. New glasses Needed, funky frames Wanted. My current pair is all scratched I can hardly see clearly through them, and the frames so yellow from the pilis.

Erra Fazira marries Engku Emran

So, Malaysia's (formerly?) most popular actress has remarried, this time to a COO of a radio station. Hopefully this will last longer than her previous marriage to fellow singer-actor Yusri KRU.

The akad nikah (solemnisation ceremony) took place Thursday night, at a restaurant co-owned by former actress Rubiah Suparman and film producer/lyricist Habsah Hassan. Since Mak is friends with the restaurant owners, and she has also met Erra Fazira there on several occasions, she somehow managed to get herself an invitation to the event.

For 'official' photos of the ceremony, see here. My mum took some photos as well, but for the past couple of days I've been having problems uploading photos on Blogger. Tengoklah hari lain.

Nocturnal Thoughts

I'm having trouble sleeping.

Since I started my confinement this has happened three or four times already, where I spend the night bloghopping or playing Sudoku online till the wee hours of the morning. In fact throughout the past week my earliest bedtime must've been 2 a.m. I don't know what keeps me awake - I think it's the heat. Somehow the days feel cooler. Maybe because at night the windows are closed to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and the room gets all stuffy. The jamu and heaty confinement diet must be really working this time round - I don't even use a blanket anymore.

Of course, I make up for the sleep during the day. Usually, after breakfast and barut perut, I'll breastfeed Aiesyah while lying down and that'll get me to slumberland in no time, all the way to lunch.

Last night and tonight I managed to go through all the blogs listed on Sentraal Station. And for some reason I felt the urge to find out what's happened to someone I knew from a long time ago, so I googled the name. I think it was something my husband said on his post about Allahyarham Shahrol. Something about maintaining Silaturrahim (close ties). Which I have to admit is something I'm not good at.

When I was in my first year at university, someone from my accommodation hall stated this observation about me: "You're a drifter. You don't have a specific group of friends you're particularly close to, but you move around."

I don't know whether he meant it in a positive or negative light, or whether it was just a statement of a fact, like 'the sun is round'. I remember thinking what made him say that, but I guess it must be true. I had different 'best friends' at different stages of my life. Throughout most of primary school, I had a close group of friends from the same class, then moved on to a new best friend in Standard 6. At the beginning of Form One, in the two weeks I spent at SMDU before I left for boarding school, I became close friends with another girl with whom I shared an avid interest in Acis of Gersang. I have not been in touch with them for a large number of years already.

And then in boarding school I made new friends, and as I moved through the different classes, dorms, debating teams and so on, so the number and personage of 'close friends' varied.

After leaving boarding school, I drifted apart from some of those cliques, and formed deeper friendships with others who were previously mere acquaintances. Studying in the UK opened up a whole new world of friendships. And now, as a career woman with a family of my own, I have drifted again.

I must say I never intended to stop being friends with anyone - except maybe with a couple because I was so hurt when they never replied my letters from boarding school (I was a homesick 13-year-old, okay? Over-emo at that time.) I always had the best intention to keep in touch after the parting, and I normally do keep up the correspondence for a couple of months, even sometimes up to a year, but fail miserably to sustain it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Oh yes, there are all those excuses. Work that takes me out of town, being married, etc etc etc. But that doesn't stop other people from maintaining their friendships. I think deep down I've actually created some emotional barrier that won't allow anyone to get too close for fear of being hurt. It gets lonely, though.

Would it be so difficult to pick up from where I left off? Can I still laugh at the same jokes, share the secrets, or have we become strangers amongst ourselves that we can only afford a polite greeting and the perfunctory Hari Raya SMS that is sent en masse to everyone in our address book?

Okay, I didn't actually see this post going into this direction, but since I've written it, here goes.

It was noon...

...and I was taking a nap with Aiesyah when you entered the room. Somehow you looked quite fresh, despite the fact that you were due to arrive in Khartoum yesterday and must have had to take a return flight to KL almost immediately.

When I asked why you came back, you told me that the Project Manager did not want you to be present at site under the current circumstances.

"What circumstances?" I asked.

"The Prime Minister is there visiting the project."

"Oh, okay." Somehow your answer made perfect sense then. And it was almost time for lunch.

Only five minutes later did I realise it was all just a dream.

Missing you.

Bila dah boring tu...

...mula la buat kerja yang bukan-bukan.

Like actually doing work during my Maternity Leave. As in what-I-normally-do-at-the-office kind of work.

Yes, it's getting to me. Hubby's on his way back to Port Sudan, and hopefully this time when he says he'll finish by March 2008, he really will finish the job by then. Apparently things are slated to progress after a long hiatus - during which Hubby spent his time honing his swimming and fishing skills to advanced level in the Red Sea. I've been cajoling him to agree to a plan that the Boss and I devised that could keep him in KL for at least another month or two (after all, I had to leave in the middle of a job which is sorely lacking a Senior Engineer in my absence), but he had other ideas involving the desert landscape of North Africa and copious amounts of USD. Oh, and something to do with a metering skid. Dok kat KL pun bukannya dapat apa, bini pun tengah dalam pantang asyik kena marah je.

I got bored having no one to talk to or argue with. Well, most of my conversations with Hubby are (to my perspective, at least) one-sided anyway, which Hubby translates as nagging. Aiesyah sleeps most of the day, Nuaim is always cranky and demanding for impossible things, while Nu'man just wants me for my handphone or laptop. The books I bought earlier do not interest me anymore, I merely flip through them without actually reading anything.

So there I was, surrounded by Raya cookies I cannot eat, typing away at a Design Guideline that, based on the original schedule, I should submit by the end of this week for review. I doubt that I'll finish it in time though, and I doubt that my reviewers will be concerned by my tardiness. It's not as if anyone else actually has the time or resources to prepare their Guidelines. Well, for what it's worth, it keeps my mind on something. After all there's only so much Sudoku one can take in a day.

And I am wasting precious cyberspace with this meaningless drivel. Hey, at least it doesn't cost as much as a space mission.

What is it with Malaysians and Food?

First of all, congratulations and Alhamdulillah on the safe return of Dr Sheikh Muszaphar Shukor from his space mission. I must admit I missed the live telecast of the landing, and have not been following the all the live interviews and video-conferences either.

I did manage to catch one video-conference on TV, the one with Science, Technology and Innovation Minister Datuk Seri Dr Jamaludin Jarjis. Datuk Seri JJ asked our cosmonaut how his experiments were coming along, to which the hensem doctor replied was going well. The programme host then asked our Angkasawan about the ISS crew's reaction to the Malaysian food he had brought up in space with him. Towards the end of the programme, the Soyuz flight commander, Yuri Malanchenko was invited to speak as well. Again they asked him what he thought of the food.

The next day, VIP guests on the programme were none other than Prime Minister Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi and his wife, Datin Seri Jeanne Abdullah. I didn't watch the programme, but Mak did. Apparently, the PM asked about the status of the experiments, and his wife asked the good doctor if he was eating well.

Come on people, isn't there anything else you can ask the guy? Why the preoccupation with gastronomical entities? And why couldn't anyone elaborate on the experiments beyond the basic 'Yes, I've started the protein crystallisation, and tomorrow I'll start on the cancer cells.'?

I was hoping that someone could elaborate on the actual objective of conducting those experiments in space. I mean, what do the scientists hope to achieve, or what technological breakthough might they lead to? Why perform them aboard the ISS and not just in a lab on Earth? The closest I got to a satisfactory answer to these questions were from a comment on another blog. (see comment written by Penjaga Cacing Angkasa on 2007-10-02 21:21:51)

To me, it seemed that the politicians were trying so hard to justify sending our man into space by repeatedly stressing that Dr Sheikh was conducting these scientific experiments, but they themselves did not seem to be fully aware of exactly how important those experiments are. Or maybe they do know but think that the Malaysian public are too ignorant to understand or care. Or maybe it's the media that thinks so. Or it's just the media people that failed to understand therefore did not bother to highlight it to the masses. Or it's all top secret no one but the scientists who devised the experiments know the details.

Whatever it is, I'm still rooting for newly promoted (congratulations!) Mej. Dr Faiz Khaleed for the next mission.

Al-Fatihah

On Monday morning, I received an SMS from a friend informing me that someone we both knew had passed away. He was my age, and the three of us were among 28 students who were awarded scholarships to study in the UK in January 1994. Hubby knew him too, back from his university days, and we had also worked in the same company for a couple of years, although in different departments. A quick check on the office website confirmed the news. I don't know for certain what is the cause of death, but apparently he suddenly had difficulty breathing in his sleep, which lead to his demise.

This is the second time in as many months that someone I know passed away under the same circumstances. It's shocking, that someone whom otherwise is fit and healthy should suffer a (seemingly) premature death in his early thirties. It makes you realise how meek and helpless you really are, and you just never know when the Grim Reaper is coming for you. Yet here I am still squabbling with Hubby about hoarding stuff in the closets. We really should get our priorities straightened out.

Wan and Shahrul, may Allah bless your souls and place you among the righteous. Al-Fatihah...

Aiesyah's Aqiqah

Last Saturday, Mak hosted the Aqiqah ceremony for her first grand-daughter. She decided on a pink theme, as 'it's a girl this time,' so right from the start Aiesyah is subjected to gender stereotyping (me and my equal opportunities sensibilities!).

The caterer was booked before Hari Raya, and on Friday the workers arrived to set up the marquees with white and pink trimmings. Mak bought fresh pink roses to decorate the house, and Cik Azim was tasked with the flower arrangements. When Nuaim arrived home from Alor Star with his father, brother and grandparernts later that night, he was amazed to see all the preparations. "Bapak nak kawin dengan Ummi ke?"

Everyone was to wear pink the next day. The pink dress Cik Azim bought for Aiesyah fit her perfectly, and we found a hairband among some of the other gifts to match. Nuaim put up a bit of a fit initially (he hates pink) but finally relented, after his favourite grape-coloured baju melayu got all wet from playing with the fish.

The event started with a 'ladies only' marhaban and zanji session at 10.00 a.m. At 11.00 a.m, other guests started to arrive, with Ustaz Ariffin giving a short tadabbur of Surah Maryam. This was followed by the Tahnik, which was also performed by the kind Ustaz.

The food, apparently, was really good. Being on a strict pantang diet, I couldn't partake any of it, although I managed a wee bit of the mutton a'la kuzi gravy (which was absolutely delicious, BTW). For the next baby, I'll insist to have the Aqiqah after the customary 40-day confinement. After all, as Ustaz Ariffin said, what's important is to perform the Aqiqah, the timing itself is secondary (although highly recommended to have it on the 7th day).

Another part of the Aqiqah ceremony also involves Cukur Jambul i.e. cutting or shaving the baby's hair. We didn't have time to do it prperly on Saturday except for a few snips during the marhaban, so Aiesyah got her new haircut on Sunday morning instead.

Pretty pink roses in a vase, surrounded by pretty little fish.

Aiesyah sound asleep on 7 layers of songket, surrounded by ladies reciting the marhaban and zanji. Check out the bling-bling.

A Hari Raya cake (thanks Auntie Sofie!), ketupat daun palas (all the way from Kelantan), kuah kacang and nasi impit to capture the raya mood. After all, it was the 8th day of Syawal.

Nu'man attempting to lead the Zuhur prayers.

Aiesyah being treated to the 'Tok Wan Special' while Bapak holds her steady. Tok Wan has always shaved his own grandchildren's hair and insists on the old-style razor to do the job.

Confinement Countdown

15 days down, 25 days to go.

It's gonna be a long one.

Reminiscing Bergy

There was a tribute to Dennis Bergkamp in The Daily Telegraph that was reprinted in The Star today. Reading it reminded me of the times in England when I visited Highbury or Wembley to watch Arsenal play. You could feel a tingle in the air whenever the ball got to his feet, like magic was about to happen. And invariably it did.

I first knew of Dennis Bergkamp when he was transfered from Inter Milan to Arsenal in the summer of 1995. At the time, I had just started going out with a hardcore football fan(atic) who idolised Bergy, so naturally I picked up on his hobbies and passions. I broke up with the bloke in 2001, but my relationship with Arsenal and Dennis Bergkamp endured till marriage and family commitments took over.

I hardly watch the football matches now, due to the inconvenient broadcast times in Malaysia, but I still catch up on their fortunes through the newspapers and football gossip at the office. Then today I stumbled upon this YouTube video clip which starts with my favourite Bergkamp goal ever. Watch it and tell me you're not amazed.

Thank you, Dennis. It was a great pleasure - no, a great HONOUR to have watched you play.

Ich bin Conehead

This morning, while Kak Yam was applying the pilis to my forehead, she noted that my hairline was coneshaped, with the sides low and tapering to a high point in the middle.

"Dahimu sempit di bahagian tepi. Ini tanda orangnya sensitif. Kalau salah cakap sikit saja sudah ambil hati. (Your forehead is narrow at the sides - that's a sign you're a sensitive person. You can easily get hurt by words)."

Oh, how true. Like Hubby told me yesterday, I'm so emo.

"Tapi di tengah ini tinggi. Kalau kena gayanya, Dian layan dengan baik. (But the middle is high. If treated properly, you reciprocate with kindness)."

So there you have it, people. if you want me to be nice, then BE NICE.

Ich bin Perfectionist

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Perfectionism, in psychology, is a belief that perfection can and should be attained. In its pathological form, it is a belief that anything less than perfect is unacceptable. At pathological levels, this is considered an unhealthy belief.

I probably am one. You see, I have rules of thumb in folding clothes. It's very simple really, and the result is my clothes stack better and I can find them easily. T-shirts, shirts and blouses are folded in half lengthwise; trousers, baju kurung and full length skirts are folded in thirds; full length dresses or robes folded to a quarter of the original length. It really freaks me out when they're folded any other way, so much so that I'll actually refold the clothes. This annoys Hubby somewhat, especially when it's him who did the original folding. Of course guys just don't get it do they? And you know what? My method is actually correct. There's a website to prove it. I bet even Martha Stewart would approve.

I also used to be a pain-in-the-A$% perfectionist when it comes to work, but I've learnt that people and projects appreciate schedule before quality, unless there is something seriously wrong with the work. There used to be a time when I wouldn't even start on anything until I really had all the information needed and knew exactly what to deliver, but then I realised other people didn't care half as much as I did and still they got away scots-free. I have not quite reduced my perfectionist streak by half yet, but I think I'm getting there.

And yet, doesn't that mean I'm compromising on my own basic principles - to always give better than my best? I think it was my former Music teacher in secondary school who said that, way back in 1992. And it's something I've always held on to and believed in. But sometimes it's just so damn tiring, isn't it? Especially when things still don't seem to work out (this seems to be de riguer in raising my children) no matter how much you've tried, or you see other people getting the same reward or better by putting in what, to your standards, are only mediocre performances. There must be something else missing, some sort of blessing or spiritual connection with God that I lack. I know I certainly lack in performing amal ibadah, and sometimes that euphoric feeling people get from prayers or reading the Qur'an is absent in me. Maybe I'm just too preoccupied with the material world - not in the sense of being materialistic, but just too involved in getting material issues resolved.

The first couple of months after coming back from Haj earlier this year, I did feel a certain calmness in facing the storms at the office. I literally took everything in my stride, believing firmly that things will work out in the end, that there's no reason to panic, just think things through calmly, plan and implement accordingly. However, things seemed to just disintegrate on its own. I ended up doing so much fire-fighting, and in the end even all that effort came to nothing as something else beyond my control got screwed up.

What really counts, the end or the means - even if you don't quite reach the end you wanted? If you've squeezed every effort you can and exerted every ounce of patience and perseverance you have (which may not be much in the first place) and still your kids end up an unruly lot, are you a bad parent? Is it possible to be perfect in everything - the perfect wife, mother, employee, manager, friend and spiritual creature? If it came to a compromise, which one takes top priority?

Sometimes I think I should just concentrate on doing what I do best. Unfortunately, currently my best performance is in terms of my career. So I spend more time at the office instead of at home, because there I'm dealing with just facts and figures, words and numbers, images on a computer screen or on a piece of paper. Things I can control and manipulate.

Unlike people. I don't even know where to start in dealing with them.

Sometimes I think I'm doing the right thing, but the receiving end doesn't think so. Which makes it even more difficult for me to become the perfect wife, mother and daughter. Hence it looks like I place higher priority over my work than anything else.

It's not true though.

I'm just trying to do better than my best. But maybe even that isn't good enough.

The Boys are back in (Star) Town

Hubby, Nuaim and Nu'man are off to Alor Star tonight, and they'll be back with Mama and Bapak on Friday in time for Aiesyah's aqiqah on Saturday morning. In fact they should have left on the 7.50 MAS flight but it was delayed. I hope Hubby is surviving well with those two commandos. The last I heard from him, they were still at the departure hall at 8.05 pm, and I could hear Nu'man yapping away in the background. They're probably already up in the air by now.

I'll miss my boys, but I'll also make full use of the opportunity to watch TV as much as I can, since Nuaim's not hogging it with repeats of 'Madagascar' on DVD for the next two days. And to start with, we have Yasmin Ahmad's 'Mukhsin' on TV3 at 9.00 p.m!

My Day-to-day Confinement Regime

7.15 a.m - Aiesyah wakes up for breakfast. If I'm lucky, she doesn't get up till 8.00 a.m.

7.30 a.m - I pester Hubby to go fetch the specially prepared air teresak (hot water boiled with some fragrant leaves and kaffir limes) for my morning bath. My daily outfit is a buttoned shirt (to aid in breastfeeding), a batik sarong and socks to prevent 'wind' from entering my feet.

7.45 a.m - Have breakfast myself, consisting of two slices of bread, hot Milo and a small glass of yellow-orange jamu. Cannot have eggs due to stitches.

8.00 a.m - Kak Yam, an Indonesian midwife, arrives for my daily urut (massage) and barut (abdominal wrap) session. Kak Yam is also the person who prepared the jamu, a traditional concoction of herbs, turmeric and other stuff designed to return the post-natal female form to pre-pregnancy bootyliciousness (one can hope). She uses a massage oil derived from young coconut, and after a good one hour rub she'll proceed to apply pilis (herbal paste) to my forehead. This helps to get rid of 'wind' and prevent darah putih (white blood cells?) from entering the head, thus causing headaches and poor vision (a bit too late where my vision is concerned). Apparently reading during post-natal confinement can bring the same effects, but that doesn't stop me.

Kak Yam will also apply a paste consisting of ground herbs, kaffir lime juice and I think ground limestone to my abdomen before wrapping it up in a bengkung/barut. The first layer barut is a piece of cloth, the same width as my abdomen, with strings on either side that are tied across my tummy. The second layer is a long piece of cloth, about 12 m long, that Kak Yam wraps and twists tightly over the first layer, from my buttocks way up to just under my chest. It works very much like a corset really, complete with the forcified erect posture and breathing difficulty.

I'm supposed to keep the second bengkung on till at least 8 p.m., while the first layer stays on till the next day. By the time I take it off, the paste has dried and flaked, and my skin feels all raw and itchy.

In the meantime, Cik Dah gives Aiesyah a waterbath and takes her sunbathing. The morning sun helps to prevent jaundice, and after the session Aiesyah comes back in looking red as a lobster.

10.00 a.m - Kak Yam packs up, and I get to read, play Sudoku and blog/websurf to my heart's content. Or I may just take a nap (depending on how much sleep I get the night before).

10.30 a.m - I take a mid-morning snack, usually some cream crackers and another cup of Milo, to make sure that I don't go too hungry and get any 'wind' trapped in my stomach.

1.00 p.m - Lunch for me consists of half a plate of rice, grilled ikan selar or ikan gelama, a vegetable dish (of the non-cooling variety) cooked with lots of garlic, ginger and no oil, a dry sambal made of black peppercorns and some ulam - typically bittergourd, pegaga, ulam raja and daun selom. I wash it all down with an infusion of dried Chinese red dates. This diet is supposed to restore blood circulation, prevent wind and help me produce breastmilk. Chinese radish apparently works too.






4.00 p.m - My tea-break consists again of crackers and a cup of hot Milo. If I'm good, I get some nice juicy orange slices too.

7.00 p.m - Dinner is served, consisting of a similar menu to lunch. Sometimes I get free-range organic chicken instead of fish, which is a nice change. Of course, it is either steamed, grilled or made into soup. Nothing fried or oily for me.

8.00 p.m - I get to take off the long wrap. Hooray, I can breathe again!

10.00 p.m - I get ready for bed, but so far I've been stayng up till almost midnight. Last night was worse - I couldn't sleep till after feeding Aiesyah at 3 a.m!

3.00 a.m - Aiesyah usually wakes up for a feed and a diaper change. I usually pester Hubby to do the latter for me, citing my confinement as an excuse. According to Malay custom, during the pantang period of 40-44 days, the new mother is supposed to restrict her movements. In some cases she's not even supposed to get out of bed in the first week!

So far Aiesyah hasn't caused too much trouble. She sleeps most of the day, getting up only to feed about three or four times or when her diaper gets too dirty for her. Sometimes she'll poo-poo away in her sleep but continues with her slumber. It makes for interesting noises during the night.

P/S I get a treat tonight - sira pisang!

Spiffy Spaceman

Came across this post today. Must read item for profound hilarity.

I was rooting for Kapt Dr Faiz Khaleed, the military dentist, by the way. Maybe he'll get a stint on the Mars mission. And now they're planning a search for his back-up crew? Why not just select someone from the previous Top 4?

By the way, notice any similarities between these two?

Eid Mubarak 1428H

To all fellow Muslims, I wish you all Selamat Hari Raya Aidil Fitri, Maaf Zahir & Batin.

... and to my sister,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CIK AZIM!!!

Introducing Amirah Aiesyah

Sunday, 7 Oct 2007 -

I took Nuaim's hand as we crossed One Utama's car park. Hubby had Nu'man in his arms. As we took the escalator down to the shops, I felt another contraction and noted the time. It was 11.15 a.m. That's 15 minutes since the last one.

Hubby had just arrived home from Sudan the day before, and we were buying for clothes for the boys. The plan was that all the walking about would help me deliver the baby easily - no induction or C-section required. Nuaim, of course, had his own agenda, which was to add an ambulance to his burgeoning toy collection. In between mild contractions, I managed to get him focused enough to at least pick out two shirts and a pair of trousers.

A last minute addition on our shopping list was a lightweight umbrella-folding stroller for Nu'man. We were in Toys'R'Us, where Hubby and Nu'man were each checking out their own preferences - Nu'man somehow zooming in on the more expensive, high-end brands (kids these days, eh?) when I felt my contractions growing stronger that I was almost bent double. It was 1 pm.

We decided to call it a break and go home for prayers, feed the boys, maybe put Nu'man to sleep and hit the shops again to search for Nuaim's elusive ambulance. However, after Zuhur prayers, the cramps in my abdomen were coming quicker and stronger.

"I think we should go to the hospital instead, Bang," I calmly said to Hubby. On hindsight, maybe I shouldn't have been so calm as he seemed to take it almost too lightly and was still reading the papers 30 minutes later.

After a bit of glaring and hmmphing on my part, we finally made it to the hospital's A&E section at 3 pm. I was taken to the maternity wards, where they took a CTG to monitor the contractions and the baby's heartbeat. Having to lie on my back made it more painful. At 4 pm, the midwife inspected me and said I was already 3-4 cm dilated. I was to go straight to the labour room.

The midwife also told me that my gynae had specifically ordered only Pethadine for this delivery. What, no Epidural?! The last time I took Pethadine it made me so drowsy but it didn't kill the pain at all. I'm going to have to rely on gas this time.

The hours passed by. The contractions were getting stronger, but strangely enough also further apart. As I was more comfortable lying on my side, the CTG somehow didn't pick up the intensity of the cramps, so the midwife allowed me to take it off to do my Maghrib and Isyak prayers. I still felt them though, and twice they struck just as I was about to sujud (prostrate). Oh God, the pain! It stopped me so that I just sat there on my knees for a full minute before I could properly bend over.

By 10 pm, my contractions were still only 10 minutes apart, so the midwife had me wheeled to the ward and have some supper. Funnily enough, the moment I entered the door, they started coming quickly. I was in the room barely 20 minutes before they wheeled me in again. And that's when the real business started.

CTG - on.

Pethadine - administered.

Doctor - finally I see her.

And the pain keeps coming. GAS!!!

Through the drug-induced haze, I see the midwives and doctor bustling about. Mak had told me to fight the urge to push until I was fully dilated, but there was no one there to really tell me how far along I was. Or maybe they did say but I just didn't register anything.

At one point, though, I just couldn't hold it in anymore. My mind was brought sharply into focus by the pain. Heck, where's the doctor? I panicked and started asking for the doctor, worried that the baby would suddenly fall right out of me with no one to catch her.

The doctor and nurses rushed in. I felt a sharp pain as the doctor cut me open, but my mind had started drifiting again. The contractions however, were coming quick and fast, almost without a break in between. On the crest of each one I took a deep breath of gas, and concentrated on pushing.

First push - nothing happened.

Second push - I felt a sharp pain in the most unlikely area and told my doctor, who seemed surprised for a split second.

11.32 pm - Third push (I think, but Hubby says at least 7 - whateverlah!) - and with such pain I thought I'd die, and cries of Allahu Akbar and Subhanallah and god knows what else (I so hope it wasn't gibberish) - I felt the baby's head bear down and break through, followed by her plump body.

I heaved back with a sigh of relief.

Earlier that afternoon, my husband and I had decided to store our baby's cord blood and had arranged for its collection at the very last minute. The blood was to be collected immediately after the umbilical cord was cut. The collection kit was ready since 6 pm, but I totally forgot about it now and didn't even witness how they did the collection. I was drfiting in and out of consciousness again, only gasping for gas as the doctor sutured me up.

After they'd weighed and relatively cleaned up the baby, I got to breastfeed her in the labour room, which funnily enough I never got to do with both Nuaim and Nu'man. There she was, all 3.25 kg of her, borne and delivered with grit and determination. Alhamdulillah.

Tick Tock, Listen to the Clock

In 4 hours, I will be leaving the office and not be back till two months later.

In just over 24 hours, Hubby will step foot on Malaysian soil.

In less than 48 hours, I'll be doing some last minute shopping, hoping all that exercise will induce contractions and progress into natural labour a day or two later without drugs. Hopefully, I'll still be able to make it for iftar at my in-laws that night.

In about 70 hours, my last pre-natal check-up will determine whether I'm actually in a position to go into natural labour or my baby's grown too big and I'll have to resort to another C-section. Must remember not to eat too much during iftar the night before.

Am excited? Of course.

Nervous? You bet.

Having a place of my own

I know it sounds freaky, that at 31 and with a 3rd kid on the way, I'm still living with my mum. Guess I'm just used to the convenience. I tell myself that it's the only workable solution when my house is a condo, it takes five minutes (fifteen if I'm pregnant) to walk from the lift to my designated parking space, I've got two toddlers in tow and my husband is out of the country. It puts my in-laws' and Hubby's mind at ease that there's always someone else around who can drive me off to the hospital at a moment's notice - although in reality, when there's no car available this is not quite true.

It does have its perks, of course. Someone else does the cooking, the laundry and even keeping the kids occupied. The downside though, is that I have less space to keep my own stuff and do my own thing. And I can't say Hello/Goodbye to my mum and siblings whenever I like (strangely enough I have a very low tolerance level when it comes to my own flesh and blood - and it's reciprocal).

So I really can't wait for the renovations on my house in TTDI Jaya to be finished, move in and start afresh. The only problem is my work might atually take me elsewhere - as in OUT of the West Coast. Let's just hope for the best, okay?