Shattered crystals 

The thing about trust is that it’s like a crystal glass.  It breaks only once.  That one time is enough to shatter it into a million tiny pieces that is impossible to put back together. 

And here I am with shattered crystals and no idea what to do with them 

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Third time’s a CHARM!

We are expecting again, for the third time.

This is even more unplanned than the second time because the second one, at least we were just off contraception and was about to go into baby planning, but the baby happened so soon afterwards that the planning did not have time to take place.

This time, we were still on contraception, a double one at that (because I don’t trust my drug compliance and the level of potency of POP to only rely on one measure), thus becoming the 2% and the 5% statistic that failed the contraception measures respectively. So definitely no time to even try baby girl planning methods. But who are we to complain. Of course we plan, but Allah has a better one for us. And double contraception or not, a baby already written in our fate will still come against the odds, and the only thing we have to do is smile and say Alhamdulillah.

Truth be told, whether its accidental or unplanned, to me and my husband, the prospect of having another baby is awesome and exciting and have no space for grouching. It is always a blessing, a wonderful gift, a miraculous turn of event – and so we rejoiced, for the third time despite knowing it’s too late to research or try scientific methods for a girl.

Despite the Husband’s high hopes of having twins or at least a girl this third time around, I will settle with just a healthy baby that survives the whole gestation period healthily, be it another boy. Of course a girl would be the icing on the cake, but another boy will still make a great piece of cake. I wouldn’t mind adding another bodyguard to the existing troop and remain the only Queen. Plus I have known couples who have been married so long and have not had a chance to conceive successfully even once, so really, I thank Allah for giving me this wonderful opportunity again, for the third time.

Because it was unplanned and we were on contraception still, the knowledge of the third pregnancy came much later. I was late, but it was not a major cause of alarm seeing that I am always more or less late. But when I started losing appetite daily for a whole week and a half because of bloating, I started wondering if it was pregnancy because that kind of bloated feeling happened before only when I was expecting. The Husband said he suspected right away and insisted we tested. So two UPT kits were promptly bought – one, the expensive kind that can be done at any time of the day, the other only during mornings when the levels of hCG is at its highest. I was so curious I had one done immediately in the evening. Double line, though the second line was very faint. A very weak positive. Of course a weak positive result, though in all probability would end meaning positive anyway, is not cool. Its like 80% there but we need another confirmation before the squealing and jumping, so we waited in trepidation for the next morning to arrive. Husband was on all fours on the bed waiting for me to get up the next morning for Fajr and ushered me straight into the toilet once I sat up. The box says it takes up to 3 minutes for a result. It took less than a minute for ours, double line so prominent and dark it was no doubt a positive. So we rejoiced with the hugging and smiling and a skip in our steps throughout the day.

Turned out I was 7weeks plus then because when we finally have the ultrasound done 2 weeks later thinking we would have been 8 weeks along we were actually already 9 weeks 1 day old. And the little bean is already kicking and tumbling inside. However, Hubby was frustrated during the scan because he was too busy handling the two boys from turning the doctors room upside down that by the time he managed to keep them together, the doctor was done with the US and he missed seeing that first heartbeat and kicks on the screen. I tried to pacify him because after all we wanted the boys in together since we wanted them to share in the awesome moment, but we should have anticipated chaos to ensue. I mean they’re two active boys. Chaos is a constant. So Hubby decided, the next check up will be just me and him. No other chaos.

As of now, thankfully, my nausea though present on and off in the evenings, is not a constant daily occurrence. Some days I am fine with appetite so good I went up for desserts even. But on days its there, and my appetite a sorry state, I can still manage a few mouthful without wanting to puke too much. Not a single vomiting episode thus far, Alhamdulillah. If I thought the super mild symptoms when we were conceiving Aidil was a lot of reprieve from when we had Adam, this time is so much easier it might as well be a breeze.

Well not really, REALLY a breeze, because battling nausea can be a horribly distressing feeling. It makes you want to just lie down, do nothing and limit movements (even head turnings) to a bare minimum and not talk or eat much if at all, while sweats break all over your body enduring the urge to just throw everything up. In the midst of enduring it you are often left questioning if it would be better to just give in to the feeling and just puke. But I am such a coward, or maybe a big endurer. I put up with the feeling until it subsides, and for me, nothing helps it subside better than nibbling on a few pieces of Hup Seng cream cracker biscuits. Though not 100%, they work like magic at least 90% of the time, and for that I am grateful enough. And the fact that these enduring episodes have intervals in between is just a bonus.

Best part? No puke trigger smells either. I am fine with coffee and fried fish aromas. Or any other smells for that matter. Mostly because my sense of smell on the other hand, is currently a little aggrieved and compromised. That kind of sucks though. This pregnancy vasodilation woes is causing me to have pretty irritating snotty nose – and at times especially during the middle of the nights, my pregnancy rhinitis can really suck!! Because I will wake up with a nose so blocked I could not breathe or sleep. So I am usually awake for 2-4 hours trying to get comfortable and with much difficulty get back my sleep drowsiness so I can get my much needed rest as a pregnant mommy (making me a little bit more tired and sleepy by mid day the following day). I need to get some piriton supply for this.Sometimes it gets worse, because getting up and staying awake for a few hours during the night can also trigger bloating, a sure fire way to a nausea enduring episode while still having to manage the snotty nose issue so I have stashes of Hup Seng cream crackers that I daily nibble on in the middle of the nights (up to 8 pieces sometimes) just to keep it at bay. But when these two things happen together, it gets really tiring, and I will become even more sleep deprived than usual the next day.

I find I am also a bit more sensitive emotionally. A bit more quick at being jumpy and irritated over the smallest of things that normally won’t irritate me enough to whine about it. The husband probably realizes this, he gets to be at the brunt of my rantings whether or not it has anything to do with him. I am a bit more whinier than usual. At least I can blame it all to be hormonal. Haha.. what a beautiful excuse I have for being such a sour puss.

Bottom line is, my pregnancy this time is different in contrast to the previous ones, and despite the minor grievances, has had the mildest symptoms by far, and if Allah Wills it, it should end faster than the previous ones too, hopefully. We are thankful that Allah has been so generous with His blessings yet again. New baby with an easy pregnancy thus far, new awesome in-housemaid, new plans with new resolves for the year. His Love is boundless, it is impossible to be ungrateful for such wondrous gifts. Who knows, maybe we might get a new bigger car to better accommodate a growing family too.

Here’s hoping so many people out there praying for this same joy of parenting that Allah has so Graciously and time again bestowed upon us, will get to that dream soon too. In the end, the most meaningful treasures we have in this world is the children we have.

Much love everyone.

 

 

 

Bagaimana nanti?

1) Ini ialah cubaan pertama ku menulis dalam bahasa Melayu, bukan kerana aku tidak bangga akan bahasa yg menjadi jiwa bangsaku ini, tetapi bimbang dengan ketidak petahan aku menyulam bunga kata yang teratur formalitinya, bakal mencacat celakan penggunaan bahasanya kelak. Jadi, sekiranya coretan ini kurang mencerminkan keindahan bahasa keramat ini, maaf dipinta terlebih dahulu. 2) … Continue reading

Selfie incompetent.

I am a self professed but totally credible and proven selfie-incompetent. Selfies, i just dont do it, much if at all.

Am I not vain enough? Do I have an issue with my self esteem? No and no.

Let us be honest. We are all, most of us a little vain, if not a lot. But is slight vanity a condition that forces you to take a selfie. In my case, no.

I really dont have any issues with people who do though. I mean sometimes in capturing a particular memory or moment I do self press the shutter to capture a group picture of me and the beans or with Hubby (but then if it involves more than just your face in the shot, it is not technically a ‘self’ie isnt it), but then I really just dont take them much. At all. Especially not solo.

My incompetence is not about taking selfies but not uploading them on social networks. It encompasses a deeper root of simply not taking any at all. In fact if anyone were to go through my photos is my phone, (new phone by the way) they can find NOT ONE solo selfie pictures of your truly. And even if you were to pool all those in my memory card from previous phones and have them all combined, you will find it a daunting task to find a selfie of me in the pile. You may succeed, but it will be very little (and I have more than 10,000 pictures available). Perhaps that is one good reason others do it. I know that is what one of my friends had to say on her selfie pro skills – that if she doesnt do selfies, she will not have pictures of herself for memory. She is right. I have tons of pictures of my babies and a few of the hubby, but none of my own. But does it bother me.

That’s the thing it doesnt.

I remember the last time I took a selfie, (which technically wasnt really one as it was of me and my eldest son in my car) i was pratically forced to do it because I was invited into an alumni reunion administrative group that required the latest picture of its members for re-introduction purposes. After my failed attempt at evading the deed and becoming the only member excused from it, I conceded for the sake of not being a total spoil-sport because by then people were starting to talk about fairness and also of puposely being elusive. But it was a dreadful feeling after when it was sent out. Not because of people seeing me. But of me taking a picture of my own to show people. I realized I should have asked someone else to take a picture of me instead and post it. Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so grossed out by it. I felt like really conceited for an act that I was coerced into doing and promptly told the group that that will be my first and last picture of myself that I will post and never to ask for one anymore.

But here’s another thing. I really dont mind posing for the camera. In fact I love posing for the camera. If people were to take my picture, i would pose for them. If people were to put a group  picture on FB of which I was a part of or if I were to put my picture that someone else took of me with a group of others, or my family or my kids on FB, I am okay with it. If people were to take a picture of me alone and then put it on FB I also wont tell them to take it off the net, but I wont comment much or press like. More importantly, i will not be the one doing the deed of taking a solo picture of myself and putting it up for the virtual social world to see nor will be very comfortable putting pictures of me alone on FB even if it was taken by others. So the rule is, group photos of me is fine. Solo pictures of me taken by others, uncomfortable, but not a total taboo as some really are good memories like my childhood or wedding images.  But solo pictures I take myself, of daily moments of  ooh-i-think-i-look-cute-right-now pictures put out by myself on FB, NEVER.

Because, I will  judge myself. I will feel disgusted by my own conceit or narcissism. We will only put up pictures of ourselves if we look good in it wont we? How many would put up ugly pictures of themselves. And for that reason alone, I feel if I were to take a picture of myself alone at a time I thought I look great and broadcast it on my social network page, (assuming I feel i look great in it) just to garner praises, I will cringe endlessly over it.

My husband will be most happy with this – mostly because he really hates the idea of me flaunting my (so-called) beauty (*yes you may gag) in the virtual social network (that rightfully should be reserved only for him), especially where anything and everything can be exploited, but also because he thinks the same way I do about selfie-self-conceit. He doesn’t do it either, though that is not so much an anomaly for guys. So my reaction to ooh-i-kinda-look-cute-right-now-moments; instead of taking a picture for my own keeping or for my husband, i go straight in front of him and flaunt it – fishing for a compliment. If I dont get the compliments though, I would still be fine because my husband’s praises of external beauty dont come cheap or easy, and not with emphasized importance over the substance of character.  But what if he wasnt around when you have those i-am-cute-right-now moments, you might ask? Then he will have to pass up on it. I will still not take a selfie. And when flaunting and fishing for compliments from the Hubby – I would ask for it if I want it bad enough but other times, if they are not forthcoming, I will just flutter my lashes and sashay away because I know even if he doesnt say it then, there will be times when I thought I look less than appealing in a more i-look-like-crap moments of our everyday life, that he will look at me a certain way that lets me know how amused he is and then tells me how beautiful or adorable I am. That is more special, when the compliments are unexpected at moments you feel less-stellar to receive any and then you get them because what he sees in you is not wholly what is just physically meeting his eyes.

Okay enough of my sappy stories of my significant other. I am getting just as pukey over it as the idea of my selfie-ing for FB. haha..

Anyway, there is a recent report of selfie-addicted people being mentally inadequate. I guess you would imagine I would be one of those who would massage my chest thinking “Thank God I am not one of them”. Well i dont do that, because on the other hand, well, some might argue, for those in the other extreme like me, the selfie-repulsed – we could also be you know slightly mentally challenged. But who cares. whatever reports may come, people will still take selfies, or not take any, all at their own will. So really, what good will that kinds of reports do.

But seriosuly though, I really dont have a self esteem issue. If someday I run a business that requires me to sell my image as part of a commodity, maybe there will be more solo pictures of me. Maybe. But i doubt the selfie-allergics of self-directed-smartphone-solo-shot-of-random-daily-i-look-cute-right-now-moments will change much.

But that is just me judging me. I dont judge anyone else the same way. So please dont feel the need to stop selfie-ing just because I say I dont. I won’t judge you. Never have, never will. *winks  

 

My Super Man

So I came back from a vietnam work trip, which was not so much a work trip than it was a leisurely trip with work mates, and i was greeted home to a whole lot of tidiness and warmth. While I was away, Hubby made sure that the house was clean and proudly presentable for me for when I get home. All at the same time of being a single parent too (yeah so my mum helped a bit but even she testified, Hubby did most of the heavylifting)

No one was more proud of him for his efforts and achievements than I was. To think he was thoughtful enough to please me this way, is making me just speechless with gratitude.

He is officially a SUPER Man, MY Super Man.

I did not doubt that he would have the ability to handle the kids on his own. He usually have help from his parents with the parenting bit whenever I am away. But the past 5 days was the first time he was on his own as both his parents are away for Umrah. My mom was present for assistance, but with just a single hand help, he did most of the stuffs on his own. Though i did not doubt him coping with my absences and reduced help due to his parents’, absences, I did not expect him to do beyond what is necessary given his situation. But for him to put in the effort to clean the house for me, on top of his single parenting stint, is just my icing on the cake of his overperformance.

In our bedroom alone, the walls and ceilings are barren from webs, the floors shiny and spotless, the dirty laundry left to a bare minimum pile, the bed sheets, changed and crisp clean. The rest of the house is pretty much in sync as well. In my eyes, it spells one thing : LOVE. He loves me enough to make an effort beyond my expectations. How could I not love him back as much or even more?

It is wealth like these that keep me grounded. We are not overly wealthy materialistically, but if I have to forgo fortunes for this kind of richness in life, I would pick this, pick him, pick his love, everyday, everytime, always.

Alhamdulillah, for His Grace grants me my true fortunes in life – love and happiness from a Super Man husband, with super kids to make me smile, everyday in gratitude. Thank you Allah, for Your Graciousness. I pray everyone else enjoy similar fortunes.

Acrostics for Adam at Four

My little man has grown a year older. He turns four today.

These days he tries my patience regularly, which is expected of course, for a boy his age. What is not to be expected or even accepted are my sometimess impatient responses to his naughtiness. I am guilty of too much unwarranted anger that he does not deserve, simply because I couldn’t control my own tolerance to the norm of a boy that he is. It is so easy to let my emotions get the worst out of me when life is hectic and in addition having a toddler baby demanding a lot more patience in parenting.

Adam knows I have been rather difficult to please. Just the other day he said this, “Ibu ni asyik marah je. Tak baik tau marah2.” But no matter how upset he gets that I am upset and naggy and scolding, he always ends up coming to me, sidling to the side with a pout and a sorrowful countenance and a heartfelt apology of ,”Sory Ibu, Adam tak buat lagi k”. Sometimes I wonder whether he was even aware of the cause of my anger, hence the apology, or if he simply apologizes because he hates seeing me angry without really understanding what for. But everytime he does that, I am promptly reminded of how ‘uncool’ I am. So I always respond with a hug and always explain why I was angry and why he was wrong. I also apologize for being angry but then proceeded to tell him that I love him. That, I would tell without fail.

I need to work on my responses and unnnecessary anger issues, obviously.

But I am certain, no matter how many times I raise my voice and snap, Adam knows I love him so very much. And I make sure I tell him that all the time, so he never forgets.

This is another testament to my adoration for my first born, Adam. Another annual birthday acrostic; so that when he grows and knows how to read, he will remember only my love.

This year’s reads : Muhammad Adam Wafi is now four.

My heart is swelling with much pride

Upon seeing my little light

Has reached an age of much delight

A glorious boy, oh what a sight

My baby now is a little man

Most smart and handsome in our hands

A cheeky charming little guy

Driven by imaginations running wild

A while ago it had seemed to be

Dear in our arms, a baby glee

And now today you’ve aged past 3

My chirpy little busy bee.

When did you get to be so tall?

All smart and chatty, standing bold

For now you are a thrilling 4

I find it hard to just ignore

It seems too fast that you have grown

So quick to ripe, so swift time’s flown

Naughty and wild but remorseful and warm

Oft testing my patience, emotions in arms

Will you ever cease to wiggle your charms

For it matters not how big you are

Or how much more you’re learned to soar

Upon my heart, you will always be

Real cherished and loved, my baby dear

 

HAPPY FOURTH BIRTHDAY MUNCHKIN! I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!!

Acrostic for Adam at Four

My little man has grown a year older. He turns four today.

These days he tries my patience regularly, which is expected of course, for a boy his age. What is not to be expected or even accepted are my sometimess impatient responses to his naughtiness. I am guilty of too much unwarranted anger that he does not deserve, simply because I couldn’t control my own tolerance to the norm of a boy that he is. It is so easy to let my emotions get the worst out of me when life is hectic and in addition having a toddler baby demanding a lot more patience in parenting.

Adam knows I have been rather difficult to please. Just the other day he said this, “Ibu ni asyik marah je. Tak baik tau marah2.” But no matter how upset he gets that I am upset and naggy and scolding, he always ends up coming to me, sidling to the side with a pout and a sorrowful countenance and a heartfelt apology of ,”Sory Ibu, Adam tak buat lagi k”. Sometimes I wonder whether he was even aware of the cause of my anger, hence the apology, or if he simply apologizes because he hates seeing me angry without really understanding what for. But everytime he does that, I am promptly reminded of how ‘uncool’ I am. So I always respond with a hug and always explain why I was angry and why he was wrong. I also apologize for being angry but then proceeded to tell him that I love him. That, I would tell without fail.

I need to work on my responses and unnnecessary anger issues, obviously.

But I am certain, no matter how many times I raise my voice and snap, Adam knows I love him so very much. And I make sure I tell him that all the time, so he never forgets.

This is another testament to my adoration for my first born, Adam. Another annual birthday acrostic; so that when he grows and knows how to read, he will remember only my love.

This year’s reads : Muhammad Adam Wafi is now four.

My heart is swelling with much pride

Upon seeing my little light

Has reached an age of much delight

A glorious boy, oh what a sight

My baby now is a little man

Most smart and handsome in our hands

A cheeky charming little guy

Driven by imaginations running wild

A while ago it had seemed to be

Dear in our arms, a baby glee

And now today you’ve aged past 3

My chirpy little busy bee.

When did you get to be so tall?

All smart and chatty, standing bold

For now you are a thrilling 4

I find it hard to just ignore

It seems too fast that you have grown

So quick to ripe, so swift time’s flown

Naughty and wild but remorseful and warm

Oft testing my patience, emotions in arms

Will you ever cease to wiggle your charms

For it matters not how big you are

Or how much more you’re learned to soar

Upon my heart, you will always be

Real cherished and loved, my baby dear

HAPPY FOURTH BIRTHDAY MUNCHKIN! I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!!

What MOTHERHOOD means to me.

I would have been a mom for exactly four years come this December 17th 2013. With two adoring boys who think the world of their parents, raising them is a jungle. Not a day goes by without some kind of mess happening somewhere (or everywhere) – unfailingly. It is immediately obvious that raising boys is hard work, especially when you are working. They have way too much energy, and too high a metabolism to keep them moving tirelessly for very long durations that surpasses your physical and to an extent, your mental capacity to endure them. But endure them, I must ; and so I do. After 4 years I guess, I have mellowed down my stresses over their chaos by a large magnitude. I still nag and whine, and fuss, but much less uptight about getting everything in order. After all, what is a kid without a little mess.

In these four years, going through the daily conundrums and sometimes run-of-the-mill parenting, I hardly ever thought about what motherhood means to me. Oh yes, the emotional, psychological and physical impacts have been profound, but I never really sit down and thought through what it really means to me being a mother.

Here’s the biggest realization, the number one thing that makes a difference when you sit and think about being a mother is that; Motherhood is entirely about being selfless.

Adam was my first born, who became the pinnacle that divided my before and my after motherhood experience. Until I was a parent, I have only given and received love in proportion to how I was given and was receiving love. Doling out more when I was treated right, serving less when I was not. Selfish love, but still love nonetheless. I rarely loved anyone more than I do myself because I worry too much about hurting myself, and even if I do, with families and lover, they were not deep enough to risk it all — consciously, subconsciously, whichever realm of consciousness, the awareness is ever-present.

However, the moment I became a mother and my heart swelled of a new found love that has never been felt before, I realized, my love for my child was pretty much going to be lopsided, forever. I love him not because of what he has done for me. I love him simply because he exists. And that is enough reason to give him all of my heart; for just existing. No longer selfish, my love has then become selfless and unconditional. Loving is no longer about protecting my own heart, loving is about giving up anything and everything even my own heart, to protect him. If I had ever once questioned my existence, and wondered what good I added to the world, motherhood gave me the answer. I was made to bring such a perfect source of joy into the world and raise him as best I could, to be as best as he could be.

I consider the perils of pregnancy, the scars of delivery and the aftermaths of birthing as badges of honor of my most cherished accomplishments in life. I have known some people who cringe at the thought of the changes and damages pregnancy and delivery do to their bodies. I scoff at such foolhardiness – for not wanting motherhood is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. I could understand wanting and not being able to conceive, but to consciously choose not to when you can, is pure madness. They couldn’t imagine the wealth of joy they would be missing out on.

Having a child exposes me raw as my emotions undergo significant transformations. A living breathing irony, I am both most vulnerable and most resilient at the same time. Often oversensitive and extremely strong-willed simultaneously. My child have me wearing my heart on my sleeves, leaving my feelings wide-open and releasing emotions in fireworks fashion. I am no longer able to harness my feelings as I get affected easily by the smallest of things and tears come easy, but then I am also able to quickly gather myself and be strong and sturdy in a flash. And the joy!! Oh the joy of being a mother, is just indescribable!

In spite of all the joy, I worried all of the time. I was scared and often wondered if I could be, or if I already am, a good mother. I was once told, the fact that I even have to worry that much is evident enough that I would make a good mother. But, would I, really? The nagging worry won’t peacefully leave, I wonder if it ever will. But I knew this, loving my child is something I embraced with abandonment, uninhibited, and whole heartedly, along with whatever that scared, terrified and threatened me – I will love him with all I have, and all I have to give. Motherhood gave me a second chance to embrace life with less inhibitions and a heart chock-full of love it’s uncontained.

Have I ever reminisced about my previous life and carefree days pre-motherhood? Sure I have. But no matter what the exchange, even if I have lamented the what-ifs, and what-could-have-beens, I would not trade my motherhood experience for the world. Even if I could turn back time, I will pick the same thing, the same way, experiencing motherhood before the other worldly joys. Because my life then may have felt free, but in hindsight, where my view is 20/20, it was unfulfilled, incomplete and lack-lustre. But as a mother, though life is wrecked with uncertainties, is often out-of-control, and unpredictable at best – yet the feeling of free is so much more profound and elevated. I was launched off the deep end of the pool, nervous as hell trying to stay afloat with my head above water, giving all I have to survive. And then when I do succeed, even at just staying afloat, the happiness is so tangible, intense and so fulfilling. In hindsight, life before motherhood was like treading shallow waters with my floaties on, always careful to guard my safety, lest I take too much risk; and always stopping myself from giving my all because I did not love anyone else enough to risk my life for and go further, deeper.

The concept of unconditional love – the full essence of the phrase became clear when I became a mother. My husband often asks, do I love him more, or do I love the kids more, and always expecting me of course, to tell him I love him more. I would tell him, I love them all the same. I wasn’t  lying. But what I wasn’t  saying was that, I love them the same but in totally different leagues. My children belong to the league where love is without condition. My husband belongs to the league where love, though strong and resilient, is still conditional to an extent. Should his love for me one day change, for whatever reason, my love for him will have to make a change, and it will. But my children, no matter what transpires in the future, how they turn out to be, what they would have done, and how they would have loved me back, my love for them, could not change, would not be able to. I would love them, in spite, or despite whatever the conditions. My husband may protest to this, but deep down, as a parent himself, he knows he feels the same. That is what parenting is, what motherhood means — that I was going to love my children so much even when they wouldn’t know how to reciprocate it. Truth is, they will never love me the same way, and that is the order of nature. But it is okay because my love for them, even if forever one-sided, is enough happiness for me.

Since four years ago, December has become my most special and celebrated month, and on the 17th, I am happiest not because I love Adam more than his brother, but because it marks a new milestone in my life, which significance surpasses, whatever milestones I have had or I will have in the future. Adam gave me the first taste at mothering, and for that I am thankful. Having Adam four years back, took me off my floaties, and forced me to tread deeper waters without safety on, and I do so willingly, because loving him, is at the deeper end of the pool, and I’d risked my all to get there. He gave me the gift of motherhood, a gift so meaningful that now that I’ve crossed the line and opened the box, I could not imagine living my life without it. The importance of the birth date of my motherhood experience has taken precedence, over even my own birth date.

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Now I am a mother of two most adorable most spectacular boys. Aidil is a source of as much joy as his brother is. My love instead of divided, has multiplied instead. If I’d ever have any doubt about love growing and spilling over in so much abundance, it ceased with the birth of my second son. My motherhood realities are heightened, my challenges doubled, my risks and fears, quadrupled — yet I am still free and soaring with joy uncontained because I now have two Suns (or sons) in my orbit.

I never knew I could love this much, this deep, this big. I am saved from selfishness, because I am a mother. And that is God’s greatest gift to a humble being that is me.

ACROSTICS for AIDIL. Happy first birthday muffin hero!

This is no revelation. This is a fact. I have no time for blogging anymore. It was almost a year ago since my last post – the last being another birthday acrostic for my eldest muffin hero Adam. It seems, i now only have time to do this blog-updating excercise when my sons celebrate their birthdays – purely as a tribute to the little munchkins in the form of a birthday acrostic.

Which brings me to this post. Yes, that time of the year when another son of mine celebrates his birthday. A time for another birthday acrostic. After many many months of deliberate hiatus that cannot be helped,  I am back with a birthday acrostic for my second muffin hero, Aidil, who is celebrating his first year of life.

I do not want to be too preferential so I will stick to the format that I did for Adam when he was one year old.

This acrostic (in non-prejudicial manner) reads his full name:

M.U.H.A.M.M.A.D.A.I.D.I.L.I.M.A.N.B.I.N.M.O.H.D.A.K.H.M.A.L

Aidil, this is for you, so that when you are big enough to read and understand words and their meanings, you will know how much I (we) love you.

Meshed between our love and hearts’ contention

Unrestrained are our feelings of gratitude

How another child can evoke so much affection

A love now divided two but not subdued

Most precious and adorable you truly are

Much joy you’ve added to the family

A spark of light at night, you are the star

Don’t ever doubt how much you’re loved so dearly

A divided love could not have felt this great
If its divided surely it would feel inadequate

Divided love a term now seems inappropriate

It must be said that love has multiplied instead

Little did we know of how much joy you’d bring

In such a short while you have us all so charmed

Mirth in your eyes, as if you’ve watched the angels sing

A bundle of pride you’ve been, warm in our arms

Not a single day has passed without your coos

Beguiling us in heaps and bounds, and awe induced

It is as if we feel the mountains move

New rainbows freely form as if on cues

Most thankful we have been for you my love

One of God’s gracious gifts, you are our life

How sweet you smile with cheeks in dimpled coves

Dreams are fulfilled with twinkles in your eyes

A prayer always that you stay away from harm

Kneeled in our prayers every day for your well being

Heaps of good fortunes nestled in your palms

May much happiness and triumphs your life shall bring

Abundance of joy and laughter everyday

Live well and love and laugh as well as you may

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY M.U.H.A.M.M.A.D A.I.D.I.L I.M.A.N B.I.N M.O.H.D A.K.H.M.A.L

We love you to the moon and back!

 

My Adam is three today.

Three years ago today, he came to be our most treasured gift and made us the richest couple in the world.

Now, he is our grown up little man, still the incredibly adorable boy he has always been.

I do not have much time to type a long post, but I at least have this much time to write him, what has become an annual ritual now, a special birthday acrostics.

This year’s acrostics reads : M.U.H.A.M.M.A.D  A.D.A.M  W.A.F.I  I.S.  T.H.R.E.E  N.O.W!!

My life’s been filled with countless joy

Undulating pride for our liitle boy

He now stands as a little man

A full fledged toddler in our hands

Most chatty, warm, and witty too

My handsome little baby boo

A sensitive soul he absolutely is

Death of his tears with just a kiss

A lively kid who knows too much

Does things that always make us fuss

And questions everything he sees

My talkative little busy bee

Whenever he demands our care

And nothing else can quite compare

For his coercion is the law

In this land no one can ignore

I have no gripe with how he’s raised

So loved he is, all in God’s grace

Though spoiled a little now and then

He knows when he has to repent

Rushed by the time in all our bliss

Endearing son of mine now is

Exactly three years in a wink

Now it is time he spreads his wings

On to a kindy he will go

With all our love and prayers so

Happy Third Birthday My Baby!