To My First Love on your 10th birthday

My First Love,

A decade ago, on the eve of Mothers' Day, you made me a mother. Today, welcome to double digits!

There are so many things I could say to you, but more often than not, I struggle to say the right things at the right time. I don't know if you feel that I understand you enough, but I'm constantly aware of how much you are like me as a child. Your temper, your tantrums, your insolence, your pride, your standoffish attitude, your disregarding look. I used to look at you and wonder what I would have needed at your age to not be all of that, but I don't anymore. Because I realised that I don't know - I don't know what I needed, and I don't know what exactly you need too now. But I know that you are you, and whatever I cannot understand or do better for you, I will pray for you, and stand by you. 

You will always be that first love of mine, that first baby whom I set my eyes upon and experience love like I never thought I could. You gave us ALL of our firsts: smiles, roll-overs, feedings, standing and sitting ups, walkings and runnings. If not because we loved everything about you so much, we would not have gone on to have the rest of your siblings. And so, please always remember, no matter if we are mad, impatient or frustrated with you, underneath all those negative emotions is sooooo much love and pride for you that is waiting to erupt.  

Although I couldn't think of a list of '10 things to say to you on your 10th birthday', there are still many other emotions and prayers in me that are beyond words. I want you to know that as much as I can allow you to explore and push your boundaries around me, I will always be your parent first (like how God our Father is), then a friend; I also want you to know that as much as I have my beautiful hopes and expectations of you, I pray for God's will (rather than mine) to prevail in your life. And most of all, I want you to know that as much as I wish I could protect you from the many hurts and disappointments that are to come in the future, I pray that God will allow me the privilege to walk many years with you and guide you in your journey ahead. 

And so my First Love, my dear J and 煊乐 - Sulk less, smile more. Seek God constantly. And pray always. 

I love you beyond imaginable thoughts and words,

Mummy

Love Letter 2.0

At our 10-year and 6 babies mark, I looked back at the letter I wrote you when we were just a year old (http://ei0.blogspot.com/2009/10/excerpt-from-love-letter.html). As I read it, I had a realisation of where all the time in between went to. In the last 9 years, we had spent much of our time battling/tackling pregnancy trials, babies, toddlers and children, BUT I could hardly remember any fights between us. Why didn't we even argue over them?

Even if it is too cliche and under-rated, thank you, and thank God for putting you in my life. Thank you for walking this crazy journey with me the last decade. There is so much unspoken understanding between us that sometimes I don't know what to say to you (insert thinking emoticon). Thank you for enduring my fatigued outbursts at the children when I am worn down by their energy and battles. Thank you for putting up with the frustrations that I indirectly channel at you because of the children. Thank you for always putting me first before anyone else.

Pregnancy may have depleted me of many memories but distinct, specific instances have stayed buried in the depths of my mind. There was that time when we were still dating, how you pulled me up from the road to the kerb to make sure I was safe while we were chatting with someone (I can't remember who for sure); or when we were newly married and a particular mid-of-the-night storm caused a loud crash in the kitchen and you quickly reassured me after checking it out that it was just a xxx (I can't remember what as well). Or how you rushed home after I burst into tears over the phone in the early days of confinement with J. Rushing to the bed where R and I were warded when Xiangfeng mentioned I broke down in the midst of a conversation with the doctor. I don't have a good memory, but some of these, I retain, and they come back to me at times when I go through an article, walk through a space, or reminiscence through some pictures.

And so I write. I write to preserve my thoughts. I write so that I have the opportunity to come across what I documented, in His time. That thermal mug with all that you have said to me before? When I held it in my hands to read them again, I realised it is one of those things that I can hold on to for a long time to get me transported back to that time in our lives. God has been immensely gracious and merciful to bless me with you, and I pray and look forward to journey many more years with you, as in our 'previous' life, as well as our 'next' life.

By the way, did I ever tell you I applied to go for SSEAYP in 2003 but did not make the selection? It was very puzzling to me then, but turns out it was really because He already decided for us to meet in 2006. Blessed Fathers' Day my best friend, my soulmate, my pillar, my encyclopaedia, my map, my checkpoint, my sounding board, my moderator. You are everything that I cannot ask for, and more. I love you beyond words.

Baby Number One. My First Love.

I realised I never had a pregnancy story for J. So here goes.

Deep in the winter of Kochi in 2010, we were almost set to stay. But just the night before the Better Half was to make our decision known to the administration, God set upon my heart to return home. We had traveled sufficiently, done quite enough, and if we were to want to start a family, it would be best to return to base camp where we are most familiar with. And so I made my thoughts known, and we agreed to balik kampung.

Before returning home, we almost thought we might be pregnant. The day before we did the trek up Mount Fuji, I was apprehensive. But an expensive stick turned out negative. Must have been His intervention.

Upon returning home, we conceived at strike one. I remember telling my girlfriends that I still felt good enough to be doing my usual runs, and before I  knew it, I was all crumbled on my bed nightly praying for sleep to overcome me to be relieved of the indescribable discomfort. No matter which way I turned, no matter what I did or ate or tried, nothing worked or worked for long or consistently. It was always trial and error at every nauseating point, and like what I remember the Spouse used to say, one step forward, two steps back. At one point, I remember just keeling over and praying incessantly for God to clasp and protect the little one in His hands, as if that protection will include taking my terrible discomfort away.

When I was sufficiently recovered from the unpleasantries, we hit the road to Sydney right after the first trimester. It was a beautiful trip. Weather was beautiful, the places were beautiful, the jacarandas were beautiful, I felt beautiful. It was exhilarating to be pregnant for the first time. After the terrible morning sickness had passed, I was enjoying every milestone of the pregnancy and looked forward to every visit to the obstetrician. We even managed a third trimester staycay to Redang before the sleepless nights came.

7 May was Polling Day, and I was very keen to be in the Priority Line to cast my vote. But on the night of 6 May, unfamiliar and unsure intermittent pains bugged me before I relented and checked ourselves into the hospital at around 2am. At only about 2cm dilated, we were told we could be expecting quite a wait but I knew my chance to vote was definitely busted. It would have been my first time ever at the polling booths. 

As a first timer at labouring, I attempted to give the epidural a skip and just ordeal through with the laughing gas. And...... I succeeded! Shortly before 9am on 7 May 2011, we met the daughter (whom I always thought would be a son as we did not know the gender) who would terrorise us since then. Juliette, 煊乐, may she spread joy like her namesake, with all glory to God.

Am I Enough?

Today is one of those days that hit me really hard. I especially crumble at the lethal combination of inadequate sleep plus anger triggers. So many thoughts run through me so quickly I could hardly process them: I don't wanna be that mum that don't connect. I don't wanna be that unloving mum. I don't wanna be that reprimanding and negative mum. I don't wanna be that perpetually impatient mum. I don't wanna be that mum with that disapproving look. I don't wanna be MY mum.

But I'm all of that, and maybe more. And I hate that I can't seem to shed all those negative images and personas when I'm parenting her. I hate myself when I'm parenting her. I hate being her parent. 
Yet I'm also acutely aware of how much she is like me as a child. The temper, the tantrums, the insolence, the pride, the standoffish attitude, that disregarding look. I used to wonder what I needed at that age, and I don't anymore. Because I realised I don't know what I needed at that time for me to change as well. I still don't know what to do with myself at that age.

Lord. I just can't help but know that there's something you want me to learn in here, from here. I really just don't know what. YET. Is it Your way of making me understand why my parents parented me the way they did, and how hard they found it? I struggle between letting it be and that innate rise to correct her even though I know it will be futile. I look at myself and think she will turn out fine because I did. But can we be sure? If I just pray and do what I can, is what I can enough? Or I simply need to do more? What is more, and how much more? Will more backfire? Will she hate me more? Should I strive to always be there? Can I always be there with so many other children needing my attention?

AM I ENOUGH?

The Promise of a Reward

On this last day of the year, 2018 feels oddly 'tranquil'. Since we became parents, our journey have been a roller coaster ride, to say the least. Like riding the waves on a ferry trip to see whales and dolphins. Or the graph on a stock market chart. But we were really nicely cruising along the past year.

We had returned to Singapore from inaka Kochi in 2010 ready to start a family. Coping with a new colicky and high needs baby in 2011 sent me into a new territory of mild post partum depression. Bouncing back from it and excited to plunge into the next motherhood experience, our next baby showed up with no heartbeat at the first visit in late 2012. We almost gave up our rainbow baby due to many distressing signs in utero, but eventually delivered the little miracle in 2013. In 2014, we became acquainted with the term anencephaly, and gave that baby up to the Lord after much struggle. From the initial euphoria of welcoming a new baby, to her diagnosis of renal dysplasia, 2015 ended for us on a deeply sombre and heartbreaking note.

The preceding two years proved to be a marathon of discovery, learning, testing, fearing, at times grieving, but most of all, just leaning on God's grace and mercy. I know I wouldn't have lived through those years without reiterating to myself over and over again how God is good all the time. To say Hallelujah! when we are cruising along, to whisper in tears Hallelujah! when the walk gets rough, and to shout Hallelujah!when we finally see some light.

After R was born and diagnosed within her first week of birth, for a very, very, very long while I was certain we would not have another child. I knew I wanted to conserve my energy for her as she gets older and nearer to the next stage of going through dialysis and transplant. Though some who know me would know that I have often spoken about having 4 children. I would at times mention in jest that 2 is my minimum, 3 my normal, and 4 my stretch target. Yet, in late 2017, when the miracle rainbow boy asked me for another baby brother, I looked at him with glazed eyes and said, 'Pray', uncertain within my own heart if I would ever find the courage.

But God sprung into action almost immediately, in no uncertain terms. A conversation with a fellow sister was orchestrated which stirred up the desire to perhaps, have another one? We conceived without trying to, unplanned but expected. When I trembled just thinking about all the worst outcomes possible awaiting me in this pregnancy, a brother texted out of the blue, Ruth 2:12: "The LORD recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the LORD God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust."

And so, in 2018, on the morning of 7 Sep, my recompensation, my full reward, arrived the same way and date his first sister did, contractions beginning in the wee hours of the day, and epidural free like it was with all of his other siblings.

And so, in 2018, as I look back on our 10 years of marriage and 8 years of rollercoasting, I will take time to number our blessings, and pray that we will never lose sight of how instrumental He had been in our lives.

Hallelujah!

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Dear Heavenly Father

You know right? You know. You know what has been going on these past 2 months. I can't even begin to believe that it's only been 2 months.

And it's been tiring. Physically and mentally. You know right? Nights that are not well-rested, and all the 'good' news that just comes one after another. And all the considerations and decisions that I THINK need to be made.

In the end, I do conclude that it's all about resource allocation. But Lord, I need guidance and wisdom in the considerations. I need peace in making those decisions. I wish you would just tell me point blank what to do.

Tired, and hoping to rest in You,
Me

The Story of R

The story of R began some time in March 2015 in the form of 2 lines on a stick. It was my 5th pregnancy and I was not in a hurry to find out, and I eventually obtained a stick complimentary of a dear sister's colleague's leftover stock. Pregnancy confirmation was pretty straightforward after 4 times; I didn't quite need a stick to get me going to secure an appointment with my obs/gyn. 

We had opted not to do an invasive test even though I would have been past 35 by the time I delivered, nevertheless on a regular appointment, the scan showed a thick nuchal fold and a very flat nasal bridge, all signs pointing to a possible chromosomal issue with the baby. On the very same day, our very objective and skilful doctor extracted placental tissue to send to the labs to find out more. I felt like an old timer doing the Chorionic Villus Sampling for the second time. It took another 2 weeks of monologue with Him before the nerves were settled.

But roller coaster rides do not just treat you to one downhill thrill. A scan just before we left for a vacation trip in Aug showed water in her tummy (yes, hers, not mine), and we were told to come back after the vacation to see if the water has resolved on its own. Now, of course the water did not go away in the next appointment. And after another 2 weeks of waiting it out, the decision was made to do a fetal paracentesis, in short, to poke a needle through my tummy, through whatever is covering her, then through her tummy to draw out the water (I know, that's why I always say my gynae is damn sart). There would be a small chance of a preterm delivery triggered by the procedure but praise God we were not blessed with any surprises. Post procedure scans made my gynae very happy. 'She looks so good'. Cue broad smile. 

We had an induced labour at week 39 due to low amniotic fluids. Déjà vu again. Crossed my fingers that since her journey has been so similar to T's, that she will be as sweet as korkor. On Day Two of her life, the paediatrician ordered a kidney ultrasound when she had not yet peed. On the morning of Day Three that we were due to be discharged, the paed had both good news and bad news for me: ‘The good news is we probably know why she had water in her tummy during the pregnancy. The bad news is you got to just trust me on this and go straight to NUH now.’ 

NUH became our home for the next 3 weeks. Initially only a week’s stay to diagnose and get her weight back on track before we can go home turned out to be a 3-week stay after she kena an MRSA infection from her IV drip and we had to prolong the stay by another 2 weeks to clear it out via antibiotics on drip. The darkness that loomed in the first few hours and days that we were there still plagues me at times. I often comb through my mind on the moments and uncertainties that awaited us in the first few hours at the A&E, the worrying tone in the nurse when R only weighed in at 2.2kg - down from her birth weight of 2.7kg; to grudgingly yet resignedly accepting the fact that we wouldn’t be able to go home that night. And of course the overwhelming sadness that blanketed us when the paediatric nephrologist explained her condition. We broke down openly, and grieved immensely deep inside us many times over. After so many difficult pregnancies, God still did not let us off.

He was with us when we had to do the CVS again; He was also there in the OT when our obs/gyn poked the needle through me and her and made sure she would be safe in there till she’s due; He knew what was wrong with R but did not reveal it to us until she was safely out, and made sure she was well protected by guiding our pediatrician to order for a kidney ultrasound. He was there when she got infected by MRSA and ensured that even though the antibiotics could have done further damage to her kidneys, it didn’t. He gave me the extended 2 weeks to stay in the hospital so that I could recover from my still raw emotions instead of driving myself into a desperate corner at home with 2 other older children to care for. He knew my fears when the doctors had suspicions that she might have an underlying genetic condition. He heard my cries when I pleaded for Him to not allow R to suffer hearing loss. All these time, while we were in the midst of it all, dealing with the crises that came one after another, He was there all along, and never once let us go. I can’t even begin to imagine how we could have lived through the torrents of fears, fears and more fears without Him. 

If my miracle boy was the ultimate testimony that God hears, the story of R is one that tells of a faithful and unfailing God who will, in spite of any situation and condition, protect and guard His sheep with grace and mercy. 

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.

He leadeth me besides clear waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his namesake.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.

Psalm 23