Love

I’m writing this while my dear daughter is sleeping soundly in her cot. Today marks the sixth day since I had given birth to a girl whose name which I and my husband had decided, respectively: Nuha Alesha, brings the meaning of the wise and intelligent, and protected and blessed by God.

She’s born on a Thursday afternoon, after almost 3 hours of battle in the labor room, apart from the pain of contraction the night before. I am truly grateful, that my husband was with me in the labor room. I couldn’t have done it without him. He was actually on the bed with me soothing my painful back pain before the delivery, even though I didn’t notice this since I was too high on painkiller. All i could remember was his hands rubbing my back and me telling him not to stop rubbing and not to ask any questions. I pushed the baby out without even opening my eyes, it was so painful that all I could do was only to listen to his voice guiding me during the delivery. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He kissed me on the forehead, saying “Good job, love” and that’s how we started the journey of our little family.

I was admitted to the hospital earlier before my due date, and he spent so much time accompanying me, even though from outside of the ward. Sent me food, taking care of me and cheering me up. I never knew that he could be so mature and protective, now that he is a father, a responsible and understanding, I must say.

I rarely post stuffs about my husband, but I think he deserves this post. Thank you Abang for being with me through my hardest time. Thank you for accepting my flaws and all the ugly sides of me. And most of all thank you for loving me.

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I am so tired. My body, my heart, my mind. I hate for not being able to treasure my own sweet time while having breakfast which is supposed to be the most enjoyable thing in a day for me. I hate it when I can’t spend more time talking to my baby even if it’s just in my tummy. I’m sad when I can’t have extra hours for my husband just to cook for him or talk to him. I miss cuddling with him because now I have to have extra pillows supporting my aching back. I’m worried that I’m being too negative while I should be cheerful and positive in these few months more of being pregnant. I’m so exhausted.

Effort

Don’t ever ignore someone’s effort to tell you how much you mean to them. Every word they say might have been revised and rehearsed thousands of times. They might have imagined the scene in their head over and over again. They might be wondering cluelessly about what you’re going to say. They might be hesitating to make the phone call, or draft the message and delete and draft it again, and again. They might use every ounce of courage they have in them to say it out to you, to tell you how much you mean to them, how much they miss you, how much – they love you. At the end of the day, we are scared of rejection, we are afraid of feeling worthless, we afraid our efforts will go to waste and not appreciated.

You think they think too much? No, because I know how hard it is to say something like that to someone. We don’t say what we don’t mean, and what are words, if we don’t really mean them?

I understand that everything happened for a reason. It’s easy to say that, but it surely not easy to really comprehend. Sometimes we want what we want, but not all of the time that we can get everything that we want. Sometimes what you wish for doesn’t come true, sometimes things that you always dreamed of, others can get in a blink of an eye. Sometimes what you’ve been praying for, doesn’t get answered and granted. And to believe there’s must be a reason behind everything that you don’t get, it really takes time to build the faith. And in the process, you become broken, shattered and miserable. Just when you think you are about to heal, and you see how happy others are when you don’t have anything, it breaks you again and again, and the shattered pieces fall apart for the millionth of time. Am I that worthless that I don’t even deserve to be happy? 

I’m not a queen, and I don’t expect to be treated like one. 

I don’t need roses, or a kiss on my hand 

I don’t need poems about how deep is your love

Because I’d only believe it when I see it in your eyes

All I crave for is to be pampered with your attention, and care