Back from Hong Kong with a toddler

Sophie's birthday is only 6 days before our wedding anniversary.

This year, we decided to celebrate it all by going away on a family vacation like we did last year.

Hubs has been very busy with work in the past few months, and so, he left the planning part to me. It wasn't a bad idea actually, since he wouldn't be as familiar with Sophie's daily routines and needs as I am anyway. (I am also the control freak mama.)

So... yup. Right after I was done with my writing project in March, I planned us a vacation in Hong Kong. Having heard too much about how hectic Hong Kong can be for young travelers, I yet decided to take up the challenge of bringing Sophie with us - simply because I love a good challenge. I booked hotels for both Hong Kong and Macau, purchased entrance/Macau ferry tickets online to save money and skip long queues (very important with an impatient toddler in tow), planned and matched the itinerary to our toddler's routines as well as I could, made packing lists, packed, practised baby-wearing, revved up my fitness level, and read up about our destination. I was the organiser, quack tour guide, the baby-wearing mama, and the bossy wife. It was fun! Hubs took care of the manual labour, GPS, route-planning during the trip, and negotiations with the locals. We worked together pretty well as a team. It turned out to be such an enjoyable family trip, despite the tiny hiccups along the way (more about them some other day, maybe). Sophie had a wonderful birthday vacation... and the adults... well, we celebrated our wedding anniversary up at The Peak, overlooking these grand views:

May the God who made the rolling mountains and the sea... as well as inspired the architects of those spectacular buildings... be the centre of our marriage and family.

What I found especially helpful for vacationing in Hong Kong with my toddler are as follows:

- Prayer. Prayer. Prayer.
- Preparing her for the trip way beforehand, so that she was looking forward to riding the airplane, trains, buses, ferries, cable-cars, etc. I made sure that she knew that I was expecting her to behave in public places too.
- Training her to sit on proper chairs at eateries instead of high/baby chairs - because most eateries are either too crowded or narrow for high/baby chairs or simply do not have any. Period.
- Preparing our hearts, minds, and luggage for a 101 worst-case scenarios. Haha.
- Reading up on kid-friendly places.
- Novomin syrup (for kids) before our flights. It prevents travel sickness and results in drowsiness. Double score. Sophie slept well for an average of 2.5 hours on both flights. There were no other side-effects.
- A good baby-carrier. Although my hip joints felt poorly after a week of baby-wearing (S weighs around 13kg, I think), it saved us from lugging a stroller, even the lightest kind, around, our hands were free to manouevre our suitcases up and down the buses or steady ourselves when the trains were full and we needed to stand, and Sophie eventually enjoyed napping in it so that we didn't have to return to the hotel in the afternoons for her naps. It also kept us sane in crowded places; Sophie couldn't wander off on her own and get lost (or kidnapped).
-  A lot of milk powder (1 kg sealed) and a travel dispenser. Hubs and I wanted to eat more economically in Hong Kong (it's very expensive to eat out) and this meant staying away, mostly, from posh restaurants with more international/Western fare. Sophie wasn't too enthusiastic about street/hawker food, and so, we supplemented her meals with milk throughout the day. She's back to her grandma's home-cooked food now.
-  Daily pre- and pro-biotics... those which you can find in small, convenient satchets. They sure helped to keep her gut healthy and regulate her bowel movements.
- A hand-held fan and hat for the candle princess.
- Fruit in pouches, purchased from grocery stores. We had no place in our tiny hotel room in HK to cut and store fruit (the room was maybe the size of my dad's attached bathroom in his master bedroom back home; we did everything on the beds and stored our suitcases under the beds; thankfully the hotel room in Macau was much bigger). Fruit pouches were the answer to fibre and vitamins.

- Toddler-friendly eating utensils, which most restaurants do not provide.
- A lot of patience.

For those of you who are parents of toddlers and are thinking of going to Hong Kong (+/- Macau) for a family vacation; if you would like to have a look at my daily schedule and packing lists, please do email me personally, and I will get back to you.

Holding hands

When it was just Ben and myself, we used to hold hands in the car while he drove (with the other hand on the wheel).

Now that I am in the backseat most of the time with Sophie, we hardly do that anymore. (Safer driving though!) And whenever we are out with her, we are often too distracted keeping her by our sides to hold hands. With kidnapping cases on the rise in my country, we are terribly afraid of losing her in the crowd, particularly in KL. (Penang is way safer but we are not taking any chances.) Therefore, it is usually one parent on one side - each holding a tiny hand.

Like this...

Something changed recently.

No, I haven't gone back to holding hands with Ben in the car. Neither have we improved on our public display of affection, if there is anything left of it. (Please don't judge us.) But....

First, Sophie would ask for my hand to hold while we sit side by side in the backseat. "Mimi!" she would say, reaching for my hand just like how her dad used to do. Where she learned this from, I don't know. She would hold my hand, caressing my fingers gently, until we arrive at our destination. The other hand rubs eyes, explores the nooks and crannies, holds a pillow, etc. Talk about multi-tasking. Sometimes, she falls asleep in her car-seat with her warm hand still in mine. It is the sweetest thing ever. I know that this might not last... but I'm certainly treasuring it while it lasts.

Secondly, she seems to have assumed the role of matchmaker whenever we visit the shopping mall as a family. Instead of holding mummy and daddy's hand happily like she used to, she now puts my hand into Ben's and walks in front of us with the air of a prison warden. Hands behind her back and turning round to scrutinise our behaviour from time to time, she ensures that we do not attempt to fight or escape. (I think it's partially so that she can run away herself.) If we let go of each other's hands, she kicks up a mini fuss. Haha!

And so we hold hands a little more nowadays. God's divine arrangement, I am sure.

I think we named her well. Sophie for wisdom.

One day early...

...but happy birthday, hubby. 

Although I sometimes forget to be patient, kind, and appreciative... although I at times envy and boast... although I am often arrogant, rude, sarcastic, offensive, insistent of my own way, irritable and resentful... although I am not too long-suffering and struggle with mild-moderate OCD (I'm sorry if I sound like a terrible wife and nothing like you've ever imagined)...

...I thank God for a husband whose love for me yet bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.... a husband who puts my needs first before his own, thinks of me whenever he stumbles upon food and chocolate, encourages me to stay healthy and fit, and tells me that I am beautiful. Furthermore, a husband who tries his best to be a great daddy to our little girl... sacrificing sleep to help me with Sophie whenever she tosses and turns in her sleep during the fourth watch of the night, taking her out for walks and outdoor fun whenever he is home, guarding jealously his weekends from work so that he gets to spend quality time with us (and so that I can sleep-in on Saturday mornings), and etc...

It is not easy to be a Ben - but he excels at it. 

With much love.

Back from a family staycation

My apologies to everyone who sent me emails and was waiting for me to reply them in the past few days. 'Coz I replied none. :P

Last week was a busy week for me leading up to our wedding anniversary. I was working hard to complete some writing assignments before 4 days and 3 nights of staycation (Ben, Sophie and myself) at Equatorial Resort Penang. Having returned from our trip, Sophie's sniffles (which she started having on the 3rd day of staycation) worsened into a constant flow of nose runnings. She stayed up half the night yesterday crying because she couldn't sleep with her blocked nose and was unable to use the pacifier (haha) while she breathed through the mouth. Poor girl - double whammy. Her parents were kinda clueless over what to do - because it is her first bout of cold. She has never had anything this serious before she was 1 year old. The crying was really heartbreaking. So as you can imagine, I am a little sleep-deprived now and still struggling to work on my writing assignments. I promise that I will work on replying the emails soon.

Um.... I guess giving me deadlines would help much. Thank you in advance for your patience with me.

While it is back to reality for us, here are some pictures from our staycation.

Our spacious room - Sophie enjoyed exploring every corner and practising her walking

I had fun.

Lots of swimming and lots of attention from daddy :)

Lots of cuddles, hugs and attention from mummy

We visited the beach too. Our first time with her. Had lots of laundry to do after that. 

Visited the Penang Bird Park - located somewhere off the island. Sophie loved it, even though her parents were dreadfully hot and sweaty from carrying her around in the humid heat.

Ostrich, meet Sophie. Sophie, meet Ostrich. 

Took her on a ferry ride at sunset too. She did not want to leave her scenic spot on the ferry. Cried when the ride was over.

Windswept

It was the best family trip I have had in a long while! We ate, slept and played like never before (since Sophie arrived).

"Mama"

I am about to blog about something that would probably make me sound over-reactive and hypersensitive.

If I do to you, I apologise.

Anyway.

All throughout my life, I've never called anyone but my mother "mama". I call my father "pa", my grandparents "gong gong" (for grandpa) and "po po" (for grandma) regardless of which side of the family they were from, and etc. I was never confused.

The word "mama" is an emotionally loaded word to me. It must have been one of my very first words (just as it was, for Sophie, along with "papa") - and it was natural that I should have attached it to my reference to that one woman, whose body had once been my home and sustenance. When I utter it today, I am flooded with a sense of warmth, happiness, and security. I remember my late mother's face, the beauty of which could never be tarnished by any line or blemish, pallor or frown. That lovely face hovered over me when I was ill in bed; it greeted me when I tumbled into her car after school, exhausted and farmished; it shone when I kissed her goodnight; and it creased at the forehead and brows when she was worried. And she was always worried because she loved us and didn't know any better. Mama was a woman who was the best mama in the world (to me) not because she made no mistakes or had no weaknesses. Rather, she was the best mama in the world because she tried her best to be one from the very day she discovered that she was carrying me in her belly - and I love her for it. While I've always had the most loving and giving spiritual moms in the world, I could never bring myself to call any one of them "mama". No, "mama" belonged and belongs to my mother, because nobody would be able to occupy her spot in my heart. Ever. I always looked forward to the day when my own child would call me "mama".

Fast forward to when I brought Sophie into the world and beyond, I now have a problem with this "mama" thing. It makes up at least 40% of my daily woes. This is because my parents-in-law (Sophie's grandparents) insist that Sophie calls her grandma "mama" and they have been doing it since day 1. (Apparently, it's both Cantonese and Hokkien. Why can't we just stick with Mandarin?) We have been staying with my in-laws since November last year, and everyday, I have been struggling silently whenever my MIL refers to herself as "mama". They refer to me as "mummy" (which is so much harder to pronounce) and Ben as "daddy" or "papa" (which is weird, because shouldn't "papa" and "mama" come in one pair?). I struggle to resist responding with a "Yes?" whenever Sophie calls "mama", unless we are out of earshot. Whenever I do, I feel so much guilt that I revert to referring to myself as "mummy" and nothing but. It's just... not the same.

Now, I don't mean to be mean-spirited or selfish, but honestly, I feel robbed. And resentful. On some days, I feel so pained and troubled that I cry and lash out at Ben for not saying anything or doing anything about it. And it's not really his fault. I do understand that it is just as hard for him as it is for me. She is after all, his mom.

We don't know what to do about this. We don't want to dishonour his parents, who have been making many sacrifices to accommodate us in their home and daily routines. We don't want to make things difficult for my MIL who has tried to love me as a daughter. We also don't want to make a big deal out of this with Sophie - and confuse her. I am after all, the mother, and nobody can replace me. I know this well. Why then, should it matter so much to me whether I am called "mama" or "mummy" or anything else?

But it does. Ridiculous as it may sound, I am having a hard time swallowing my "fate". It is affecting me - my feelings toward motherhood, my self-esteem, my marriage.

I miss my mama and wish that she was here to help me through this.

The beauty of a father-daughter moment

Dropping by to say hi

After a wedding we attended on Saturday. Strange, but is it my imagination that we are looking more and more alike?

I am still alive and kicking. It's just that I have been a little caught up with my sermon composition recently (among other things), and so, there was much less time to blog. My brain is kinda mush now, trying to exegete Zephaniah 3:9-20 and I am far from done - but it has been a very fulfilling work. It made my current waiting trials a little easier to bear too. Time seems to pass faster when you are doing the things you love.

I promise that I will update soon.

Of marriage proposals and words

My best friend (and Sophie's darling Godma) got engaged to her beau yesterday.

I thought that it was very sweet of Mr. Godma to make it so special for her. In my opinion (and I speak as a member of the generally more emotional sex), asking a girl to marry you, regardless of how much the both of you have discussed or planned marriage prior to that, should always be an effort you make to honour the lady you love. A proposal does not have to be extravagant or overly dramatic; neither does it have to involve too many people or be done in public like in the films (of course, you could). However, it does matter that you ask her properly and formally so that you put her heart at rest with regards to your commitment toward her, marriage and your leadership in your marriage. I used to think that such proposals were unnecessary and much ado about nothing until my husband proposed to me in June a few years back - in the dining room of my old flat (over home-cooked pasta and a bouquet of flowers). It was a simple event and there was only God, him and myself to witness all that happened - but I can't describe adequately with words how much that meant to me, back then and in retrospect.

It is by words that a man asks his lady to marry him. Written, shaped out of candy-floss (and etc), verbalised or signed.

It is also by words that he may shred the fabric of his wife's dreams for the marriage, leaving her desolate and cynical about their future.

I heard a man say to his wife this week: "I know you too well - and so, I do not like you anymore."

He told her that he loved her because that was the right thing to do (he holds that love is an action borne out of commitment toward the one chosen to be loved - and he would love her by helping out with the house chores, taking her to eat at the places she fancied and giving her money to spend)... but because she wasn't the "same woman" with whom he fell in love when they first met, he had ceased liking her. He meant, of course, that she had changed over time - having grown more selfish, short-tempered, hard to please and distant. She had also not been fulfilling her wifely sexual duties well (oh tough, I have no other way to describe them), as she found sexual intercourse painful and unsatisfying. I suspect that this is a very important issue for him - if not the most important. What she had tried to communicate to him but he failed to understand was that she did not feel very loved, despite all that he was doing. She craved words - affirming words, sweet words (like those he used in the early courtship days), wooing words, empathetic words, teasing words when she made her absentminded mistakes (rather than judgmental ones) and comforting words whenever she voiced out the troubles of her heart (rather than words of advice). He assumed that he knew his wife "too well", but she felt that he had stopped being interested in her. He knew not who she had become as the seasons passed - her evolving aspirations, dreams, likes and dislikes - and he did not bother to ask. The more he saw her in negative light, the more complacent he grew of finding out. And she wished that he would.

"You could tell me. It's tiring to keep asking."

"It's not as if it's all about you."

Well, he stopped liking her. I suppose that he did not like her weaknesses (there were probably things that he still admired about her) - but the words he used spelled out rejection and broke her heart. I don't know how carelessly those words were uttered, or if the man was half-drunk/asleep when they tumbled out of his mouth - but they had been spoken nevertheless, and their effect irrevocable. She could forgive him, but if she had my kind of memory, those words and the brokenness they effected would never be forgotten. They would haunt her during times of vulnerability... and temptation.

Well, he does not like me anymore... but this other man, he likes me. He is interested in me.

My heart goes out to her.

To be fair, she is a flawed being. Yes, she may be selfish, short-tempered and hard to please. And lacking in sexual libido. But you, Mr. Man, aren't perfect either. I imagine that you are frustrated...and yes, it is your obligation to love her as her husband, but have you made the effort to like her as well? By saying that, I don't mean that you should force yourself to feel good about her weaknesses. Rather, be interested in her like you were while you were courting. Her favourite colour, food, books and music might have changed; ask her. Her opinions, struggles and fears may have changed; let her know that you care. Her walk with God might have faltered; build her up with your words so that she would be encouraged to get up and walk right with Him again. Celebrate her strengths, her beauty and her charm - instead of criticising her flaws. Romance her with the endearing words she longs for, affirm her, praise her. Seek to understand her heart. You asked her to marry you (and she responded), so take lead now in speaking her love language, even when she can't speak yours yet. Make her feel like she is that important to you - and in fact, the most important to you, after God. Allow her to transform into the woman that you would like her to be (assuming that your ideals are reasonable).

And perhaps, she would feel emotionally up for sex again. A woman can't quite submit (bodily) to a man who lacks interest in her as a person and respect for her dignity.

But then again and like I said, I speak as a woman. And a married one too.

Back from Cameron Highlands

Our trip-mates...

 

Sophie enjoying the lovely evenings

 

 

 

I guess the blog title and pictures have said enough. :) In summary, it was a lovely trip.

40 weeks and counting...

Wow, I haven't been blogging for a week. I don't know where time has flown.

My Korean student attends her job interview today, finally, after a few months of working very hard on her English. We know that her life and calling is in God's hands - and so, whether or not she gets the job, we will still celebrate when she's done. I thank God for the blessings of her friendship and generosity that have doused my life with rainbows in the past few months... and more than anything, I am grateful for the delights of hearing God speak through her - yes, even when she struggled to make herself understood. I am not sure if my work with her is done yet - but I hope that we would always stay friends, at least.  :)

My EDD arrived on Saturday, 3rd of May. However, my body isn't quite ready to go into labour yet - so we are doing all we can to avoid an induced labour (hopefully, labour comes naturally), while waiting for divine intervention from above. Please keep us in prayer - especially baby S, as she would probably need to spend another week (and hopefully less) confined to my tightening belly. Her daddy has been such a dear - cleaning up the whole house, rearranging the furniture and making home look like home, despite his yet-to-be-completed work project, filing taxes and other engagements - while her mummy takes more naps than usual, complains of the heat and waddles around looking very sorry for herself. :P  Oh dear...

May God bless his soul!

On a lighter note, it is 9 days to my wedding anniversary.

35 weeks: An Open Letter

Dearest S,

You may not know this... but while you may have come as a surprise to us, you are in fact, an answered prayer.

Daddy and mummy lost your older brother/sister two Christmases ago.

Kind words, much-needed and gracious, came to comfort and help us through the uncountable sad and difficult days that followed. Such days were made of tears, often hidden behind facades that veiled the world to the mind-numbing pain (and guilt) we felt.

Of course, there were also the well-meaning urges of some who thought that it would do us good to move on quicker and have another baby soon. We did not intend to think of the next baby as a substitute - to salve and heal our wounds by taking the place of the departed - and we would certainly never want him/her to think of himself/herself that way. We did not want the next baby to come until grief had passed us by. 

And so, we waited.

Honestly, it was hard to tell when grief had truly passed us by. For mummy... denial, anger, bargaining and depression (per Kübler-Ross) eventually culminated in acceptance - albeit a strange kind. The kind, in which your heart is left feeling cold, numb and hard. I doubted if I would ever be a mum. I doubted if I should be a mum. I doubted if I even wanted to be a mum. Most of all, I feared that I would lose yet another baby - so I was terrified of getting pregnant again. 

Attempting to make plans for post-graduation (from the seminary) was doubly troublesome, not to mention depressing. I couldn't bear to make plans that did not include you (and your sibling(s) after you) in the picture. But somehow, I resisted making plans that had you and your siblings in the picture too.

Wouldn't it be easier if I had just trusted God?

Forgive mummy. You see, I have never been particularly optimistic my whole life. Craving some sort of control over the unforeseen and the uncertain is a tendency that I am not proud of.

And so, I resented it whenever people asked us when we were going to have another baby. Stressful question. But I spared their ears from sarcasm, inappropriate remarks and other comebacks that were uncharacteristic of a supposedly faith-filled seminary student.

God must have been very patient with me!

(I am also thankful for those who have been more sensitive and discerning not to push me too hard.)

Anyway, it was mummy's final year in the seminary last year. I was contemplating going on a little further in my theological education... when daddy asked me gently if I was ready for you.

I cried because I didn't know.

And then you came. 

You see, S, someday you might hear a voice. It might tell you that you were an unwelcome surprise to mummy - or that you had ruined her plans and crashed her dreams. It might tell you that you existed only to fill a gaping hole in our hearts from the loss of your older brother/sister. It might tell you that if you had come first, daddy and mummy would have loved you more. It might say mean and hurtful things that make you feel rejected, unwanted and unloved.

If you hear that voice, I want you to silence it.

Because I remember too well, that one night, when I confessed to God (finally)... that I didn't know if I was ready or not... but then I prayed that you would come if it was time. Somehow, I had come to a point whereby I could un-harden my heart if I wanted to, and realise that I could and did want to move on from the past. I did want to give God a chance, so to speak, trust Him and have a baby - regardless of how unpredictable my life would become. 

And then you came.

Many a time, we were afraid that you would suddenly leave us. We could hardly believe that you were here to stay... but here we are, just two weeks to full term. God be praised.

Fearfully and wonderfully made, you are God's miracle that unpacks to us joys that are far greater than those the pursuits of any worldly achievement or possession could ever give.

Thank you for blessing us with your presence.

Love,
Mummy (and Daddy)  

33 weeks

Honestly, I feel like a beached whale.

Aside from the loaded belly that I am lugging to places (and some say that it isn't that big), water retention as well as other causes of weight-gain are endowing me with pudginess (not exactly the cherubic kind)... and I've turned from swan-graceful (ehem) into a clumsy clod. I bump into the most random objects and trip over my feet (or the cracks in the ground) once in a while. I don't think that I've started waddling yet (or maybe I have and am in denial) - but I might very soon.

Thanks to the hormones, I am tired, moody and melancholic-weepy every day (and I am actually feeling a little ill and achey while typing this - hopefully, it's not a flu bug I caught). However, I appreciate the dear clowns who trouble themselves to make me laugh (and laugh at myself) from time to time. Thank God that I actually have job(s) (temporary or not), which make my days more purposeful, put me in talking terms with people and keep me productive. Otherwise, I'd be even more depressed.

But just in case this post becomes too much of a rant, I thought I'd mention some other blessings that I've received too:

1. Baby is doing well. We are very happy with her, even though she often decides to practise her kicks, lunges, punches, rib-pokes (my ribs) in the wee hours of the morning. Can't snooze even if I wanted to. It's funny how daddy's hand can still her better than mummy's hand can. Since she grown much bigger now, I can sort of trace the outline of her little body within mine when she draws her knees to her tummy or does full body stretches/ semi star jumps (I'm using a lot of my imagination nowadays). It feels me with wonder to see how my body is accommodating her growth and yet, I haven't burst open at the seams or popped! So, a woman was fashioned out of Adam's rib, the Bible says. Amazing rib. Awesome God!

2. Giving English tuition has been a blast. I will admit that money is one of the incentives, yes ($___$)... but there is also much satisfaction in having my Korean student warm up to me and attempt to share her heart in English, difficult as it is. I let her get away with speaking Korean whenever she has absolutely no idea how to express herself in English - but most of the time, she tries her best to stick to English. Good student. On a side-note, I wondered today if I had managed to surprise my baby in the past week by conversing in a different tongue - I haven't spoken much Korean since we conceived her.

3.  I am looking forward to watching an orchestra in town with the hubby this Saturday. Thank you, hubs for getting the tickets!

Back from a lovely trip

My hubby and I spent 3 days at a resort on Pangkor Island... doing nothing but eating, sleeping and relaxing on the beach. It was a good way to retreat and spend some undisturbed time with one another before deadlines crop up and we are caught up with the hustle-bustle of preparing for Chinese New Year.

Or, make it some kind of random honeymoon. With a yet-unborn baby in our midst.

I feel... refreshed (albeit slightly itchy all over from sunburn). I haven't spent so much time on reading the Bible in a long while!

Now then, it is time for me to begin working hard on my final final paper, whose deadline falls on my 30th birthday.

Tuesday and a monster roach

A blurry picture of us @ a Korean cafe in Prima Tanjung (Simplace)

Lunched with a good friend, Jo.

I would love to tell you more of my day, but the strange thing is... I cannot remember much of what I did for the rest of the day... except to stay out of the way of a gigantic cockroach which had made home in our flat for a while. (It appeared in our study last night.)

Just after Ben and I had agreed that God must have allowed the ghastly creature to make its grand appearance so that I would have to go to bed earlier than usual (indeed, I ran out of the study after that encounter and went straight to bed), it flew out of nowhere, right on cue. I remember myself being stunned by its mere presence and a high-pitched shriek passing my lips. There arose such a pandemonium - as we chased it around our flat. Or rather, it may have chased us - hot on our heels. Out came the broomstick without the witch. Whack! Whack! Whack!

I wonder what our neighbours must have thought of the ghastly din upstairs.

Anyway, this was the conclusion of our battle:

After being whacked for the umpteenth time. Alas, monsters don't die so easily.

Victory!

Looks like I exaggerated on the size of the roach as well as the number of its legs when I wrote my sleeping hubby that hasty note at that time of the night. (Thought it a little cruel to wake him up just to go on a wild-roach hunt. Hoped that he would find the note in the morning. I giggled myself to sleep, imagining his reaction to the note, since he has Roach-phobia too.) I guess it goes to show that terror can really play havoc with one's eyesight.

I'm glad that I can finally enter our study again.

Back to cooking

Confession: I have not been cooking for at least a year.

Rather, I have not felt like cooking in a long while.

Probably, my lack of motivation was owed to emotional struggles, assignment struggles and the stresses of teaching in the evenings... among other things. It has been a long year past. Of course, pregnancy came along - and by virtue of all-day-sickness (morning sickness is an understatement), loss of appetite, hyperosmia, weird food aversions, hormonally-induced mood swings, physical exhaustion and my endeavours to juggle pregnancy with everything else, I lost interest in many of the things/hobbies/activities that I used to like. Cooking included. I just wanted to sleep, cry and wallow in self-pity, haha. (I am so glad that my first trimester is over!)

Ben, being a very understanding husband, indulged me - and happily made our kitchen his territory.

He would return home from work as early as he could manage in the evenings (despite traffic congestion) and cook. His wife, although touched and appreciative, was never easy to please (to be fair, it was not totally her fault) - and so he discovered by some trial and error what worked and what didn't. Dinnertime was always pleasant, warm and homey - there was love in the food and love in the air. The loving cook would eventually wash the dishes at the end of the meal while his wife leaned back contentedly and let the food settle.

Well then, since Ben is going to be very busy over the next few months (with work) and now that my all-day-sickness has decreased significantly, I am invading his territory and going back to cooking.

Of course, I wonder if I can still cook!

16 weeks

Pregnancy is not just a journey ~ but a tapestry of many journeys woven richly into the masterpiece of a story that cannot but testify of God's sovereignty and love.   

As parents, we journey with the growing foetus. Every week brings a fresh development of some sort - and we are as excited (and afraid) as can be. We also journey toward a new season in our marriage with its own challenges as well as blessings, and thus, treasure our final months as just-the-two-of-us. Sort of.

Our God, whose eyes searches the depths of my womb while He knits the little one together fearfully and wonderfully, journeys with us as we pray and grow bolder in our prayers. An occasional glimpse of the little one through a scan and the swooshing sounds of his/her heartbeat fill our hearts with wonder at God's miracle and His image embodied in a growing human body, so snugly dependent on mine for this season in time. Pregnancy does teach us about God - in ways that we were never acquainted with. I would love to think of it as a kind of pilgrimage. 

For me, it is a journey towards accepting... that my life, my relationships, my heart's greatest burdens and my body as I know it will change drastically - and perhaps, never return to what I recognise now as "normal". The weighing scale is showing me numbers that I have not seen in a while. Books tell me that my body is storing up F-A-T so that I can be a milk-making machine when the baby arrives. I guess, I will take their word for it. Anticipate those battle-stripes, dimples and squishies too, if it makes life easier. I am loved anyway.

Last but not least... the little one journeys too with me. In the past 15 weeks... while I did assignments, burned the midnight oil, studied, attended classes, preached, wrote, presented paper, played the piano, taught, served, sang in the choir, battled emotional struggles, cried, laughed, climbed the final stretch toward graduation from the seminary and etc., there was a reason much greater than myself for self-care - i.e. the little companion within me. I look forward to having the pleasure of his/her company on more adventures and "excursions" in the months ahead. There is indeed, something quite extraordinary about the whole experience. Perhaps, it is God's will that mothers-to-be are to delight in discovering its treasures - even where there is pain.

Jane Austen on marital faithfulness...

I thought that this was such a good reminder today, especially the part I bolded. How well Austen words it!

“...And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing. Taken in that light, certainly their resemblance is not striking; but I think I could place them in such a view. You will allow that in both man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with any one else.” (Austen, Northanger Abbey)

One more sleep to graduation

Just for the record.

I am not really that excited about the ceremony itself. Having a flu makes everything seem bland. Or is this a sign that I'm turning into a professional student?

I am more excited about seeing my family again. Dad didn't make it to the previous graduation in 2011, so it would be awesome to have him at this year's graduation. I wouldn't have come this far if it weren't for his support and blessings as a father.

It has been quite a pleasant and restful public holiday for me. My superman hubby was home and kindly spared me the housework. Made a tasty beef stew for dinner too - one of the best comfort foods for a sick person, in my opinion. As for me, I was so drowsy that I napped throughout the day and didn't get much done, save reading the Bible. (Reminder to self: you have only one more week left to finish writing 3 articles. Please do not procrastinate!)

Indeed, God has been gracious and merciful to me. I shall lie down and sleep (again) with gratitude.

Post-weekend

Saturday: Didn't have time to work on my paper. Had to work late the night before though - and I thought I would, so that I could enjoy my weekend. It was a little like the 6th day of manna-gathering in Israel's wilderness (Exodus 16) if you like. A double-portion was to be gathered (and cooked/baked and stored) in preparation for Sabbath, during which no manna would appear. A discipline so that rest could happen on the seventh day. Sacred Music Festival's choir performance went well, despite the long day we had behind us (4-5 hours of rehearsal in the afternoon with the orchestra; choir members remained balancing - on foot - on their stands/raisers throughout). The performance seemed to fly past though. I am so relieved that everything is over. The best part? No more rehearsals at unearthly hours. Half-kidding. I am very thankful that God was glorified that evening through the hymns of the Church. The audience's applause was sweet consolation - but there was definitely a tangible yet an unseen presence with us throughout the performance, and I hope that He was pleased, ultimately. Because He is the very reason that we sing. He is the very reason that I sing.

Sunday: Visited St. Georges Anglican again and had such a meaningful time there - especially in participating in the Eucharist. Since there was no choir practice in the afternoon, I went for a movie date in the afternoon with the hubby (such bliss). Grocery-shopped. Came home and napped, while the hubby whipped up a mean spaghetti bolognese in the evening. A grand finale to dinner was owed to mother-in-law's gorgeous, silky, home-made longan jelly. What a feast! We watched two more movies at home, before bed.

And that was my weekend in a nutshell.

Oh, I forgot. Brother-in-law proposed to his long-time girlfriend on Saturday - and she said yes! Our family is growing indeed - by God's grace. My MIL will have one more beautiful daughter-in-law to pamper soon! Haha.

Here is to another week of many labours. Paper presentation on Friday - and I'm currently stuck in my paper. So God, please help me!

My hubby's humbling little speech

The husband of my hubby's colleague had suddenly passed away 2 nights ago, leaving behind his utterly shocked and bewildered wife... with their 6-year-old daughter on hand.

Cause of death.... was probably a heart issue. Cardiac arrest or something. The chap died in his sleep. How unpredictably fragile is the human life!

Returning from the Wake, my hubby said something so touchingly sweet that I teared.

"I pray that I will live longer than you.... so that I can take care of you till the very end. You might not know how to cope if I go before you..."

I feel so loved... even though I am not sure if God will (or should) answer his sacrificial prayer. I certainly can't bear to think of him grieving alone after I am gone too.