20 weeks and staying home to be a mom

With the decision to leave my full time job comes many more decisions and choices to be made each day. This life-altering choice I have made has also called into a more fundamental question almost of existentialist proportions: who am I, really?

I no longer have the guise of my profession to hide behind. Simple, get-to-know-you ice-breaker games which ask for me to introduce myself will no longer be as simple as before. I can't just say "Hi everyone, my name is Kelly. I work in PR for the library - and yes, I love books."

I have tremendously mixed feelings about this. Deciding to resign was possibly one of the hardest things I had to do in my life. Giving up a stable income, no matter how paltry it may seem, is really tough. Giving up the surety of earning power every month is terrifying on many levels. I will no longer be able to buy clothes on a whim. (ok, I shouldn't have been doing that anyway, but now I really can't) I have to think twice about buying myself that cup of iced latte on a hot day. Every cent has begun to count, and I hate it. I am terrified about depending on my husband to bring back the dough. I know he doesn't split hairs about our money, but I am still unnerved. So the onus is on myself to look out for writing jobs so that I don't feel so helpless. Perhaps this need to be economically viable and have earning power has been schooled in me from a young age.

I spent my first day luxuriating in my new status as a Stay-At-Home-Mom, just enjoying spending the hours with baby G as he frolicked and rolled about, and catching some shut-eye as he napped. I also did the same on my second day, since I'd had a tough night (was up every two hours since G found it necessary to get up every two hours to roll about and bat his cheeks). Soon, I will have to stop kicking back my feet in lazy afternoons, enjoying snatches of naps with the baby. I do actually have some things that really need to get written asap, but I shall start proper on Monday I suppose.

"Hi everyone, my name is Kelly. I don't hold down a full-time job that pays me to sit in the office for a set number of hours, but I do find some employment as a writer on a project basis. Most of the time though, I am a full-time mom to my baby boy, who is now almost five months old. I still love reading, shopping, and gaming, but these have to take even more of a back seat now that baby G is in my life. Sometimes, I do wish I had more time for myself to do all these. Ok, who am I kidding... A lot of the time, I wish I had more time for myself! But motherhood has changed me..............." and I could just ramble on and on. I guess walking this path has really made me take a good, hard look at myself, and is forcing me to learn more about myself as a person too.

Most recent piece of writing has gone live, do read and send some love! Would also love to hear any thoughts :)
http://materialworldsingapore.com/2014/05/23/material-moms-the-truth-about-breastfeeding/

9 weeks and having to share

Just before my baby was born, I was gripped with an odd sense of trepidation and bittersweetness. Soon, he would no longer be just mine to hold. When he came out into this world, I would have to share him with so many people. I'd grown to love waking up each morning to the feel of my baby's kicks within me, his hiccups in the middle of the day, and his squirms at night just before I fell asleep.

My baby was a breech baby. That means that he never turned head down; he'd always had his legs down and head up. His umbilical cord was looped around his neck, and that had stopped him from being able to turn. But that for sure didn't stop him from trying. Oh no. My gutsy little boy still tried multiple times, every single night. I could feel him turning, turning, turning... Until he reached my belly button. And that was probably when the cord got tight around his neck because I could feel him squirming with all his might, before giving up and returning to what was comfortable for him before he could hurt himself. That gave me a glimpse into what kind of child he would be: tenacious, spirited, and wise.

Now that he's born, I know I was right. He's a spirited little boy who cries lustily when kept too long from his milk. He's not afraid to show he's displeased, kicking his two little legs with gusto and showing me what I call his Sad Kitty Face.

When breastfeeding was tough those first weeks, not only did I not give up; my little boy didn't either. His mouth was so tiny, and he'd had to force it wide open to latch on for his milk. He could have tired of it and rejected the breast, but my son didn't. He kept at it, and because he didn't give up, I couldn't either, in spite of the pain. I've yet to see how he's wise since he's been born, but I am certain he will show me how wise he is, just like how he was in my womb when he knew when to stop trying.

So back to sharing my sweet baby with the rest of the world.

I still struggle with it everyday. I am torn between being thankful that he is so loved by family and friends, and that so many people want to cuddle and carry him; and the primal, instinctive need to have him by my side 24/7. I want to snuggle with him all day and never let him go. I want to kiss his chipmunk cheeks and stroke his downy hair. I want to keep telling him that I love him - and with each day, I am ever more certain that I can never, ever tell my baby that I love him, too many times.

So, I get a little protective over my baby when others want to carry and cuddle him. Okay, more than a little protective. I admit, I border on territorial akin to a lioness. I rein in my instinct to say "No! You can coo at him from there." and let [insert well-meaning family member] carry him. And I am so torn.

It's not about trying to make my baby love me and no one else. I just want to be there for and with him at every moment of his life. He's spent 9 months in my womb and only 9 weeks in this world, surely he would want his mother with him all the time too? In the larger scheme of things, he's still a tiny little baby and I do so want to see to his every need. I want to be there when he first opens his eyes in the morning until he closes them for the night's sweet sleep. I want to laugh with him when his little heart overflows with baby joy and hold him tight when he's upset with the confusing world. I want to be with him when he does his first roll, when he first lifts his head high and upright, when he utters his first consonant coos, when he says his first word (I can only hope it will be "mama" or "dada"), when he starts to crawl, when he takes his first steps. I just want to be his mother.

I know, of course, that he is his own little person and not my property. That he has to be socialised to form relationships with other important people in his life. That he is not mine to hide and hold and that he is free to choose whom he wants to be with. One day, I will have to let him go. Further, and further, he will go. First to school, then to the army, then to college; he will have friends of his own whom he would rather spend time with, he will fall in love and find his own soul mate whom he will have his own children with.

But for now, he is my sweet baby and a selfish part of me wants to preserve these achingly joyful days for all eternity. For just for a little while more, I want to not have to share my little man with the rest of the world and keep him safe in my arms. One day, I will have to let him go. One day, my arms will be empty when my baby no longer calls them home. One day, all my children will have their own lives and I will spend my days in a comfy rocking chair reading books, watching DVDs, and playing my favourite video games with my husband, the love of my life. When I look back on these days, I will ache with loss but more importantly, of love reaching out through the trellis of time, and yearn with all my heart to stroke my firstborn's soft cheek all over again, breathe in his delicious baby scent, and snuggled close in my arms at 3AM in the morning.

7 weeks and ticking...

Motherhood has changed me, like so many mothers who have come before me would say. Change has come upon me in many ways, in both the simple and the profound. Something so simple like the way I sleep has forever been altered; I no longer take long sleeps but instead, sleep in fragmented blocks, to match the sleeping habits of my baby. This has bearing on how I spend the rest of my day, which impacts me on a deeper level because every moment I'm awake has a different significance now than before. I now try to get as much done in my waking hours and am thankful for each un-frazzled moment I have, simply because I don't know when my next peaceful moment will come.

All that being said, I'm slowly falling in love with being a mother. I had fallen in love with my baby early on, when I first held him by my side to nurse and he plaintively rooted for the breast. But it has taken me a while to fall in love with motherhood, with all its weird hours, bleeding nipples, and diaper changes.

My baby is 7 weeks old today. I fear that he will grow out of his babyhood before I even realise it. At just 7 weeks, I'm already feeling the passage of time, and I'm starting to re-think what is truly important to me. I used to be unable to see myself staying at home to raise my children; I'd always fancied myself as a go-getter who derived satisfaction from working and being engaged meaningfully at my job. These mere 7 weeks at home with my baby has made me reconsider this. I've spent so many sleepless nights (which is no mean feat, considering that downtime is so precious to me now!) thinking about my future, and I seem to keep coming back to the same door...

Ever since I had my baby, I haven't been able to put myself back in my old shoes. I now cannot understand why I would ever have a child, only to have another raise him. I can't imagine I used to think it was okay. My children are for me to raise. No, I admit, it's probably not all altruistic. Yes, of course I want the best for my children. But a large part of me wants to raise my children the way I want to raise them. I don't want to be a weekend mother. Of course I realise that many mothers have no choice, they have to work to contribute to the household income, so they do not have the luxury of caring for their children full-time. I do not purport to be able to leave my job without having to think twice or even ten times before handing in that resignation letter, just so I can care for my son. I am thinking, thinking very hard. And will be.

Last night, my precious son almost slept through the night. After nursing him at 8.30pm, he finally fell asleep at 10pm and slept right till 3.30am. That's a good 7 hours between feeds, which I am mighty pleased about. With that, I had actually managed to sleep for 4 hours last night - my first stretch of sleep longer than 3 hours since I gave birth to my son 7 weeks ago. I nursed him back to sleep and he was back in bed at 4.30am, only waking again at 7.30am for his next feed. All too soon, he may be sleeping through the night, a small sign that he is slowly but surely growing up. Before I realise it, he won't need to nurse anymore. I never thought I'd be sad when that day arrives, given my initial battle with breastfeeding. But now that nursing is getting better, largely because my son's mouth is growing bigger so he can latch better, I am starting to somewhat enjoy it. I love that I can nurse my son to sleep, that he can turn to me for the most comforting thing he wants at this point in his life. One day, he won't want to nurse anymore, and I think I may be really sad when that day finally comes.

He's had his first couple of growth spurts and I'm crossing my fingers he's done with his 6 week one. But I do know that with every spurt he goes through, he grows and becomes less and less my newborn son and more and more towards toddler-hood. I still remember him when he was a few hours old, I don't think I'll ever forget that to my dying day. I look at photographs of him when he was just a few days old and I'm cast right back to those moments, in a precious, exhausting haze. He has come so far since then, and although I'm happy for each day he grows with God's grace and my milk, I look back to his first few days of life with wistfulness. If I could relive those hours all over again, I would, if only to reset the clock and have more time with my precious little baby. Every day that passes, every minute that goes by, is time that slips through my hands, propelling me on the trajectory of mortality and the day when I have to let him go for good.

Ahhh, I'm getting emotional just writing this... :')

I've so much to say about motherhood, especially being a young, first time mom who doesn't yet have a place to call her own. But that's worthy of a post of its own, so I'll keep it for the next.

We've got a baby on board!

17 weeks 4 days. That’s (approximately) how much time has passed since a precious little life has taken root in my belly, growing each day. Yes, that’s right, we’re expecting a baby! Given how my previous pregnancy ended way earlier than it should have, my optimism and joy has been tempered somewhat – okay, more like totally dampened.. But as the days have turned into weeks and months, and my baby seems to be growing according to medical charts with each doctor’s appointment, I’ve finally allowed myself to feel a teensy bit joyful at our very own miracle we’ve been a part of :) 

I’ve spent the first trimester in constant worry and fear. The first milestone that we crossed which let me breathe a little easier was the 8 week mark, which was when we had discovered that our beloved first baby’s heart had stopped beating last year. After that, it was the fear that I wouldn’t make it past the first trimester of this pregnancy. And then came the 16 week mark, when we knew that our precious baby had made it for twice the amount of time our beloved first baby had lived and died.

In-between, the days were fraught with frantic trips to the doctor whenever I had a bleed, which happened way too frequently whenever I stepped into the office – which resulted in me arranging to work from home for an entire month just to ride the few weeks out into the beginning of the second trimester when things would supposedly be more stable. I’ve had a bout of food poisoning which saw me throwing up in the office toilet and leaving me in utter misery, seeing as how I’d managed to keep my morning sickness well under control all this while without having to vomit even once no matter how awful I felt..

So now, here we are, at 17 weeks and 4 days into our pregnancy, and I’m finally starting to let myself believe that our baby will be coming into this world in about 22 weeks’ time. I still do go through days when I’m convinced something has happened, and I just throw myself into the day and try not to dwell on such thoughts. And each time we see our precious baby’s constant heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor and his/her kicking, turning, rolling, seeing on-screen, I feel like a knot in the pit of my stomach loosens a little and I find myself smiling like I haven’t seen anything more beautiful in the world.

At this point, we still don’t know whether we’re expecting a boy or a girl, just because each time we try to take a peek during our regular routine check-ups, baby refuses to show the goods and then promptly turns the other way, leaving us with nothing but images of his/her behind waggling about. Although I’d like to know, just so we can start looking at some baby clothes or blankets, I’m actually surprisingly not impatient about it. I just know that whatever gender baby turns out to be will make no difference, and finding out will only add to my mounting joy and anticipation and could not subtract from it.

Each day I feel the lingering symptoms of first-trimester pregnancy, like residual morning sickness nausea, a blocked left ear whenever I hurry to get out of the house in the mornings, exhaustion by mid-morning, a gnawing hunger at night before bed, a horrid bloatedness whenever I have my dinner too late at night… I complain with all my heart at my patient, loving husband, who always tries to alleviate my discomfort. But with these, I know that my baby is still growing in me, and I can’t help but remind myself to be thankful for these physical discomforts.

So until my next doctor’s appointment and I get to see my baby frolicking about on the ultrasound screen, I think I can’t help but remain worried that the worst may be just around the corner.

All the choirs in my head say...

I'm spending this weekend putting together my writing playlist. Yes, that's right - a writing playlist. What's it for, you may ask? Well, I've made no secret of wanting to write and publish someday, so when better to kick-start this than now when I've got a little more time and flexibility on my hands? ;)

Here's a little peek into what's in my writing playlist for now. Each of these songs move me on some deep, primal level and evoke a whole rush of emotions - which I need plenty of when I write. I like songs from movies because I'm a visual creature, and listening to these songs bring to mind scenes which have struck me particularly.

Lana Del Rey's Young and Beautiful

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?


Bruno Mars' It Will Rain

Taylor Swift's Safe and Sound

Come morning light - you and I'll be safe and sound.

Rihanna's Stay

Florence and the Machine's Breath of Life

Okay I still have a long way to go in building up that list, which I reckon will keep getting tinkered with as and when my mood changes.. In the meanwhile, happy Saturday everybody!

First peek back in here in a long while

I haven't blogged in what feels like forever! Things have been getting more positive for me, since the last time I checked in here. Which I suppose is inevitable, cos it just couldn't get any worse than that. :)

So I've just started a temporary arrangement where I work from home - but only for a month or so until my situation improves a little.. In the meanwhile, I'm just sitting tight and enjoying the little bit more freedom and flexibility that not having to step into the office affords me.

That also means that I have a lot of unworn, recently bought clothes lying around in my closet. Haha!

All that aside, working from home has been good for me. Prior to this, was on two week medical leave and it was actually a really good, much-needed rest. I've been able to indulge in things I used to love to do. Like reading in bed, exploring the world of Azeroth once more, watching episodes of my favourite TV back-to-back... I reckon if all goes as it should, this part of my life will be over for a while. So I really am enjoying this while it lasts! :)

All this is also making me think about what I really wanna do in the future. One step at a time, I guess.

Thinking, missing, wanting

It's been months and still, sometimes, I surprise myself with the intensity of missing.
Life goes on for sure, I go to work, enjoy spending time with friends, doing things I love like reading, gaming and shopping, and am generally happy.

Lately, I've been forced to face up to the reality of missing more so than ever. Friends and family who are expecting their bundles of joy are all around, and what's worse, I don't know how to react. I don't even know what I'm feeling whenever I hear such happy news. Only after when I'm in the safety of the bathroom under a comforting stream of hot water from my shower, do I finally sort through the tangle of emotions and acknowledge them for what they are. There's a lot of wistfulness for what I could be having now; a bit of jealousy; plenty of joy for my loved ones; and strangely enough, what's most prominent is the rawness of the pain I still feel. It's odd, I'd have thought time would have put some distance between myself and the emotion, but if anything, it's back stronger than ever.

Not a day goes by without me thinking, missing, wanting. I tell myself that there's a time for everything, that there will be time enough for everything, not to be impatient for what the future brings but instead to just concentrate on enjoying the moment for what it is. I tell myself all these, and I try to will myself to believe. But time has not done its work and I'm still left each day wishing that things hadn't turned out the way they had.