Mother’s day

So, this would be my first mother’s day.

My family never bought into the hype of Mother’s Day. Mom would “expect” flowers on her birthday (carnations, thank you very much) and on her anniversary ( we always had to order on dad’s behalf cos he tended to forget). But she’d never really fancy flowers on Mothers Day: too expensive, too cliched and she never wanted to battle the throng of people that invariably flooded the restaurants on this day.

I’ve had friends whose family prized Mothers’ Day: presents, dinners, fancy cards and the whole shebang. I never quite saw the point and one of them pointed out that I’d understand the whole “gig” when I became a mom myself.

And so, with Q’s birth, I “qualified” to celebrate Mother’s Day. I didn’t quite know what to expect. Maybe I should get flowers. Or a fancy dinner. Or, maybe, some surprise present from the husband. One would expect that I would be flat out excited about celebrating what can be considered a life milestone.

As I sit at the cusp of my first mother’s day, surrounded by a flurry of busyness work, back log of stuff, prep for husband’s business trip, I find myself not particularly excited about Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that I get to join the ranks of mothers everywhere; but like my mom, really, its any other day to me. And all I really want is a peaceful, fuss-free day from Q.

Maybe when the kid is older and can make me a handmade card or something then I will be excited. And even then, really, save on the big floral bouquets- a paper one would more than suffice.

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Taking time out

For some sense of normalcy, I wish I could go for Good Friday and Easter service. Since I can’t:

ALIVE!

by Max Lucado

ROAD. DARK. STARS. SHADOWS. FOUR. SANDALS. Robes. Quiet. Suspense. Grove. Trees. Alone. Questions. Anguish. “Father!” Sweat. God. Man. God-Man. Prostrate. Blood. “NO!” “Yes.” Angels. Comfort.

Footsteps. Torches. Voices. Romans. Surprise. Swords. Kiss. Confusion. Betrayal. Fearful. Run! Bound. Wrists. Marching.

Courtyard. Priests. Lamps. Sanhedrin. Caiaphas. Sneer. Silk. Arrogance. Beard. Plotting. Barefoot. Rope. Calm. Shove. Kick. Annas. Indignant. Messiah? Trial. Nazarene. Confident. Question. Answer. Punch!

Peter. “Me?” Rooster. Thrice. Guilt.

Proceedings. Court. Rejection. Prosecute. Weary. Pale. Witnesses. Liars. Inconsistent. Silence. Stares. “Blasphemer!” Anger. Waiting. Bruised. Dirty. Fatigued. Guards. Spit. Blindfold. Mocking. Blows. Fire. Twilight.

Sunrise. Golden. Jerusalem. Temple. Passover. Lambs. Lamb. Worshipers. Priests. Messiah. Hearing. Fraud. Prisoner. Waiting. Standing. Shifting. Strategy. “Pilate!” Trap. Murmurs. Exit.

Stirring. Parade. Crowd. Swell. Romans. Pilate. Toga. Annoyed. Nervous. Officers. Tunics. Spears. Silence. “Charge?” “Blasphemy.” Indifference. Ignore. (Wife. Dream.) Worry. Interview. Lips. Pain. Determined. “King?” “Heaven.” “Truth.” “Truth?” Sarcasm. (Fear.) “Innocent!” Roar. Voices. “Galilean!” “Galilee?” “Herod!”

9:00 A.M. Marchers. Palace. Herod. Fox. Schemer. Paunchy. Crown. Cape. Scepter. Hall. Elegance. Silence. Manipulate. Useless. Vexed. Revile. Taunt. “King?” Robe. Theatrical. Cynical. Hateful. “Pilate!”

Marching. Uproar. Prisoner. Hushed. Pilate. “Innocent!” Bedlam. “Barabbas!” Riot. Despair. Christ. Bare. Rings. Wall. Back. Whip. Slash. Scourge. Tear. Bone. Moan. Flesh. Rhythm. Silence. Whip! Silence. Whip! Silence. Whip! Thorns. Stinging. Blind. Laughter. Jeering. Scepter. Slap. Governor. Distraught. (Almost.) Eyes. Jesus. Decision. Power. Freedom? Threats. Looks. Yelling. Weak. Basin. Water. Swayed. Compromise. Blood. Guilt.

Soldiers. Thieves. Crosspiece. Shoulder. Heavy. Beam. Heavy. Sun. Stagger. Incline. Houses. Shops. Faces. Mourners. Murmurs. Pilgrims. Women. Tumble. Cobblestone. Exhaustion. Gasping. Simon. Pathetic. Golgotha.

Skull. Calvary. Crosses. Execution. Death. Noon. Tears. Observers. Wails. Wine. Nude. Bruised. Swollen. Crossbeam. Sign. Ground. Nails. Pound. Pound. Pound. Pierced. Contorted. Thirst. Terrible. Grace. Writhing. Raised. Mounted. Hung. Suspended. Spasms. Heaving. Sarcasm. Sponge. Tears. Taunts. Forgiveness. Dice. Gambling. Darkness.

Absurdity.

Death. Life.

Pain. Peace.

Condemn. Promise.

Nowhere. Somewhere.

Him. Us.

“Father!” Robbers. Paradise. Wailing. Weeping. Stunned. “Mother.” Compassion. Darkness. “My God!” Afraid. Scapegoat. Wilderness. Vinegar. “Father.” Silence. Sigh. Death. Relief.

Earthquake. Cemetery. Tombs. Bodies. Mystery. Curtain. Spear. Blood. Water. Spices. Linen. Tomb. Fear. Waiting. Despair. Stone. Mary. Running. Maybe? Peter. John. Belief. Enlightenment. Truth. Mankind. Alive. Alive. Alive!

From No Wonder They Call Him the Savior
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2005) Max Lucado

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Baby Q: Week 2- Dealing with the blues

Truth is, I don’t know where the last two weeks have gone to. The hospital stay rolled into coming home; us both thrust into this new world of Babydom called Parenthood. Even as I type this, I am wrecked with exhaustion from the insane schedule all newborns keep and the physical toll of breastfeeding on demand, the bleeding, uterine contractions and all the other physical stuff that makes me want to go back in time to sock Eve. Darn that woman.

As a person, I like to think I keep my emotions well under control. Whilst pregnant, I tried my best to not let the hormones get the better of me and I think for most parts I’ve succeeded. I was still reasonable throughout the long nine months and even while in the delivery suite, I think I kept my head quite well.

When Q was born- for the initial few days, I was fine. Sure, there was the stress of waiting for “milk” to arrive and the learning to breastfeed; latching, as all breastfeeding moms will tell you, is a bitch that causes far too much stress and pain. We opted to stay an extra day in the hospital to work on latching and it was a time well spent- at least by the time we went home, I was feeling a lil better about breastfeeding though Q’s hydration level was still a cause for concern. Gratefully, he didn’t lost too much weight in the days after birth (from 2.64kg to 2.4kg) and when we went back for his one week check up, he had put back some weight to 2.5+kg. Also, thankfully, his jaundice level remained low and mild all through out.

As we entered into the second week and the toll of insufficient sleep started to weigh heavy, I had to (finally) contend with the dreaded Baby Blues. Of all the new things that comes with being a new mother, nothing could have quite prepared me for the onslaught of emotions, self doubt and mind games that I ended playing with myself. While studies have shown that breastfeeding mothers tend to cope better, it was converse for me as the whole notion of breastfeeding successfully was the ONE thing that really caused me to unravel.

Too much milk. Too little milk. Is baby eating enough? Milk supply issues… All started to creep into my mind insidiously to the point that I was stressing out before, during and after each nursing session. Meaning, ALL THE TIME. It didn’t matter that people told me I was doing well. It didn’t matter that the lactation consultant told me I was a real champ. It didn’t matter that the pediatrician told me baby was gaining good weight and I was a-okay. It didn’t matter that my cousins and friend who were pacing me reminded me several times a day (each) that I had nothing to worry about.

I still fretted about breastfeeding. In fact, most times, when it all got a little much to bear (like a few times a day) I’d find myself on the brink of tears. The Boy was great in being supportive and setting me straight but its those quite moments that truly messes with you. Not helping was that I had somehow decided in my head that if I didn’t breastfeed (and opted to formula feed) it would make me a terrible mother.

Yes, logically, I know its not the case. I- and most in my generation- were raised on formula milk and we all turned out fine. But still…

Help- and alleviation- came in the least likely of places. An old doctor friend called to check in and caught me at a bad time. She set me straight. God truly works in mysterious ways and through the least likely of people. She explained that what was worse than not breastfeeding was my letting myself mentally unravel. She drummed into my head in the days after (till now) that the greatest gift I could give my son was to be in the best mental, physical, emotional and spiritual state possible. And that since we had crossed the 2 week mark and Q’s immunity system was up and running, I was, ok.

Once I made peace between breastfeeding and formula feeding (I had BIG issues expressing milk so that wasn’t really an option), I started to feel better about everything. My OBGYN kindly prescribed medications to help with lactations (I’ve not had to use them) and The Boy packed away the breast pump so that I would not be tempted to express to “check on levels.” Nursing became a lil easier, less stressful and I think, now that I am en route to getting my head screwed on properly and seeing clearer through the fog of the blues, I am learning to be a better mother one day at a time.

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Baby Q: Its a boy!

At their last OBGYN visit they learnt that they could be due ANYTIME despite being only a lil over 36 weeks. They blitz as much as they could- meetings, assignments, made work and personal arrangements for this-that-the other and basically maxed out the days. Most days, they would crash out a lil over midnight, each day usually starting at about 7am and packed brimful of events. On wed, the 11th, for some odd reason The Boy couldn’t get to sleep. Most days, he’s out cold as soon as his head hits the pillow and he decided he HAD to re-discuss baby names and such. After toughing it out with him for as long as she could, she finally ordered him to sleep- he did, after a brandy nip.

In the wee hours of 12th March 2010 the water bag broke.

Truth is, This Girl’s first thought was that she had somehow soiled herself. Yes, this despite her still being awake and having done her Kegles (its a prenatal yoga staple I tell you) she rushed to the bathroom only to realize she’s basically become a leaky tap: drip drip drip drip. She waited fifteen minutes before waking The Boy who thought she was kidding. If looks could kill…

The next few hours passed in a blur: doctors, nurses, midwives, admin people in and out of her delivery suite. By this time, it was close to day break and her OBGYN strolled in- in her gym gear no less- did an exam and proclaimed that she’d deliver by lunch and that she’d see them later after ordering a small dose of oxytocin to “speed things along.” They had both been awake for some 26 hours by then. The midwife declared that since she was only 4cm dilated, it might be another 6 hours before she’s even ready to delivered (1cm an hour)- if she were lucky. Most first time moms take some nine to twelve hours to move 6cm- yes, even with “help..”

By breakfast, the contractions were coming fast and her need for some rest and reprieve waned as the toil of being up 30 over hours weighed in on the event. Doctor offered a low dose epidural which she gladly took- this bought her some much needed “shut eye” for the, em, main push. At her near noon exam, the midwife declared that she was ready and ordered This Girl and The Boy to practice pushing- which they did to their amusement; some cruel science experiment, really.

Closer to noon, their OBGYN came back and decided This Girl was ready for some REAL action and by then active labour had finally set in.

Push-Push-Push: 45 minutes later…. Baby Q was born.

Tiny but perfect in every way.

And just like that, in that single instance, their pregnancy journey ended and they took their first tentative steps into parenthood.

(As she writes this, its Day 7 of her grand new adventure)

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pregnancy issues: when things around fall apart

This girl likes to think that she’s got some capacity for empathy, for feeling for other people and for being able to feel at least some modicum of an emotional impact for the people about her. Death, birth, success, failure… they should all mean something even if one is simply standing at the sidelines watching in, cheering along.

Being pregnant has, in many ways heightened her sense of empathy and, yet, in other ways, dulled it somewhat. She’s more selective as to the things she chooses to care about: people who are in constant whine mode gets little sympathy from her; people who are all talk and complain and no action gets *roll eyes* from her; and people that refuse to learn from past mistakes truly annoys her.

And the converse is true. People who struggle- and struggle with integrity, with grace, with compassion and courage truly inspire her. In particular, those involving pregnancy tales (given her current situation) and young children.

A while back a friend shared that her soon to be born daughter has a small hole in her skull and hence its going to be a risky birth- her courage, her hope, her unflinching faith in life’s greater purpose and God’s bigger plan makes This Girl immensely grateful that she’s had a relatively healthy and problem-free pregnancy.

Another mom-to-be had to go into emergency labour two months ahead of schedule whilst traveling overseas. Small baby, less than stellar medical care, being away from home, inter-country admin nightmares: things have been and are rough and This Girl and The Boy keep them in prayer daily. This is also why no one should ever wish for anyone to pop early. People say that to This Girl all the time- most certainly in jest- but really, if people stopped to consider what they say, its really not very funny or appropriate at all.

Most recently, This Girl has taken to following @laylagrace on twitter; a courageous two year old in her last legs battling childhood cancer. Childhood cancer detectable at birth with a simple urine test which they gratefully do in Singapore (who tests for everything) but not in the States. Their simple faith, hope and ability to see joy in these dark days put things in perspectives for This Girl.

Edit: @laylagrace went to play with the angels early on 9th March 2010. Rest well lil princess.

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footprints in the sand

Footprints in the sand used to be one of This Girl’s favourite allegorical poems:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord:

“You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Recently she heard the song version of the poem, sung to perfection by Leona Lewis and co-written by Simon Cowell.

Footprints in the sand (By: Leona Lewis)

You walked with me
Footprints in the sand
And helped me understand
Where I’m going

You walked with me
When I was all alone
With so much unknown
Along the way

That’s when I heard you say

I promise you
I’m always there
When your heart is filled with sorrow
And despair

And I’ll carry you
When you need a friend
You’ll find my footprints in the sand
When I’m weary
Well I know you’ll be there
Cause I can feel you
When you say

I promise you
I’m always there
When your heart is filled with sadness and despair
Oh, I’ll carry you
When you need a friend
You’ll find my footprints in the sand

[choir]

When your heart is full of sadness and despair
I’ll carry you
When you need a friend

I promise you
I’m always there
When you need a friend
You’ll find my footprints
In the sand

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pregnancy week 31: weight concerns

Sometimes this girl finds it hard to believe that the weeks have just flown by and its February already. Where did January go?! With their initiation into the last trimester, this girl now sees her OBGYN more frequently and as a result, they get to see baby more often too. Which is always nice; if not, sometimes, a little nerve wrecking cos that’s when it always grips this girl that “something might be wrong”. She supposes that most to-be mothers (first time or otherwise) have these panic pangs which she tries to keep at some healthy distance.

Weighty concerns

With the discovery of her gestational diabetes, this girl has been a little more aware of her weight. One of the risks that come with having GD is that the mother tends to put on more weight than normal and so does baby, so, the risk of a large baby that might require a c-section. In the fortnight after her GD discovery with minimal food changes (just the rice, bread and Oreo changes), she’d actually LOST weight. Ok, so it was 300g but still! Baby’s growing fine- just not a particularly huge baby. This child appears to be “long” more than “round”. Possibly like The Boy.

Over the last seven odd months, she’s not put on much weight (about 8 kilos or 17lbs) and while the three B’s are growing (belly, boobs and baby) she’s seemingly not gaining any weight. And its not like she’s got a fat stash (maybe just a little from the thighs, but she digresses) from which this growth is drawing from. Her appetite is good, if not better than when in her second trimester since the baby has turned and dropped so she’s got access to her stomach again as compared to when it was compressed by a pre-dropped uterus. But she’s still not gaining weight! The Boy figures that its most likely because this girl:

1. Eats rather healthily; she’s never liked oily or fried food, preferring grilled and steamed stuff
2. Is still very active/busy for a pregnant woman; with no sign of slowing down much
3. Does pre-natal yoga 2-3 times a week; plus alot of walking and sometimes swimming
4. Has a naturally high metabolism that even with it slowing a little down, is still high anyway
5. Is just plain blessed

Anyway, she was perplexed- if a little distressed- enough to call Homeschool Mummy (mother of 4) to check in about her weight issues. Their long conversation, which of course, as usual, digressed to other topics not all pregnancy/baby related, like her brother’s latest appointment as Senior Counsel, left her with a new perspective. This girl is going to manage pregnancy weight by looking at “fetal weight”. Meaning, so long baby’s growing accordingly, she’s not going to bother with her own weight. And according to the progression chart she’s doing just fine.

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Love like your life depended on it

Friend of hers constantly finds herself being trapped in these dead end relationships. Friend’s a great girl, well travelled and well lived, lovely, respectful and a bunch of other good stuff. Sure, she comes with her own set of baggage, a relatively colorful past and a roller coaster life; but really, no less than the next girl. Oh, and she’s got some brains too.

Thing is, she tends to find herself in these dead-end relationships. The guys are always… okay…. but the relationship itself is always a few pieces short of a full set. Sometimes the men come with Baggage- with a capital B, with issues (depression, for example), or worse, another girl somewhere, someplace that you never quite hear of till its too late. So, said friend goes through a roller coaster few weeks/months of high highs and abyssal lows.

Its been painful and heartbreaking to watch from the sidelines. So, the other day, said friend called this girl to ask her: Is Love still worth believing in?

The quick answer is: Yes, one supposes. Then again, if you take a step back and consider, its a tough question to answer really. Its a deep, deep notion to ponder especially if life hasn’t really been easy or if you’ve never truly experienced Love as God intended. Sure, its almost easy to say “But God loves you” or “God is love.” Its also easy to recite a thousand and one verses about how Love never fails and so, well, yeah, believe in love.

Its easy to SAY the right thing. Even DO the right thing. But to BELIEVE in the right thing, that’s another issue. And as This Girl contemplates the big question, God finds a way to answer in today’s quiet time:

“Go after a life of love as if your life depended on it—because it does.”
I Corinthians 14:1 (The Message)

So, its not really about something to believe in or not- though you should, really. But its something to pursue too. And, sometimes, the responsibility is on ourselves.

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chosen

Its been one of those weeks that was simultaneously exhausting, demanding, exciting and fulfilling. It was also a week that the notion of “self worth” came up a lot in discussions with family and friends. Some arbitrary “discussions,” others more personal. Then, because He always knows, He sends a reminder:

I know those I have chosen. John 13:18

Would you choose a wanted murderer to lead you out of bondage? Would you call upon a fugitive to carry the Ten Commandments? God did . . . Called his name through a burning bush. Scared old Moses right out of his shoes!

The reassuring lesson is clear. God . . . uses people to change the world. People! Not saints or superhumans or geniuses, but people.

Its a reassuring thought, really.

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baby shopping: Stokke Sleepi Crib

Standing at the threshold of the last trimester, This girl and The Boy realize that they are considerably behind on their Baby Stuff shopping. Most of their friends due after or about the same time as them have already made sizable headway where baby stuff shopping is concerned: car seats, pram, changing tables…etc…

They originally planned to start their buying during the Christmas season; since, you know, its the general season for buying things. They never got bitten by the shopping bug, no less, the intense crowds in and about town deterred them somewhat. They did their fair share of internet browsing; checking out the options and the myriad brands: from IKEA to the unapologetically designer ones. In particular, This Girl loves the Sebra Kili cot– a gorgeous black crib that takes a newborn right till they are seven. Of course the crib costs an arm and a leg; but its totally gorgeous.

Friends have been pitching in with advice; in particular some are very adamant that parents should buy “what’s enough” since babies tend to outgrow most of the “for babies only” furniture. Costs and value for money seem to be the main buying strategy. Its kind of like when buying baby clothes; parents opt for not so nice but functional options since their child “would outgrow them” anyway. Or they make do with hand-me-downs; and most mothers tell themselves its ok, since, its the right “financial” decision.

Over the last few days they scoured the net: reading reviews, staring at catalogues and comparing prices. They took measurements and even braved a trip to a baby store to prod and poke at the options they had narrowed down to.

This girl has decided that whilst her choice of the Stokke Sleepi Crib (in white, thank you very much) is pricier than most other makes, she’s going to go get one. She’s scoured the reviews, spoken to friends and family who have one and they all raved about the Sleepi. One, who’s child is five has used the crib (now a day bed) all the way- which, in the grand scheme of value-for-money, makes sense.

Now that she’s made up her mind… that’s one item down, like 1485623 more to go!

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The year 2009: Looking back and counting blessings

The year has ended and Facebook offered a quaint little application that allowed you to collate your status updates for the past year. Which is exactly what This Girl did.

Its a relatively accurate overview of the year that This Girl had.

She got married. Became part of a new family. Family gained a new member. Learned they were going to have a baby.  Ran a company. Rented an office space. Worked her ass off. Played her guts out. Played loads of golf. Loved. Was loved in return. Was blessed. Had loads of laughs. Shed less tears for which she’s grateful. Ate a lot. Cooked alot. Baked a fair bit. Created a craft corner. Celebrated her last 20-something birthday. Bought an iphone. Converted The Boy to the Mac side. Bought the house a mac. Read far too few fiction books. Read far more non-fiction books. Still feel she didn’t read enough. Travelled far less than she’d like but it was ok. Learnt more than she thought she would. Lived more than she thought she would.

Its been a blessed 2009 year.

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Pregnancy week 26: Insomnia

The good news:

This Girl is feeling less like a beach whale this week. No, its not that she’s any slimmer (Ha! As though that were possible) but it comes to reckon that she’s learning to carry the extra weight a little better. She’s not put on much elsewhere, like her limbs and such, and so she’s kind of always a little off tilt. Being back to yoga class seems to help; the stretching, the breathing, the taking time out to tune out the rest of the world has aided in her feeling marginally physically better.

The aches are still there and her belly feels tight beyond measure, but its manageable to an extent. The Boy helps with the back rubs and she now sleeps in a strange display and arrangement of pillows to prop this and to raise that. In particular, she’s loving her Ikea Crocodile which she contorts into various bendy positions to best suit her night needs. So, she’s toughing it out.

The not so good news:

As she inches into her last trimester she’s been hit with pregnancy insomnia. Her body is tired, her eyes are tired but sleep proves to be elusive. Its in part cos she’s getting bigger, in part cos the baby is moving alot more and has taken to kicking at the ribs. But, despite how tired she is, she can’t seem to drop off to sleep.

Apparently, its a relatively common thing for pregnant women to suffer thus. It’s a glimpse of things to come, it seems. The way things are seem to signal the way things might be (a night baby maybe?) and the best one can do is really to “manage” the situation. Create a routine. Learn to wind down. Relax. Relax. Relax. Oh, easier said than done. This girl does her best to catch whatever cat naps her tired body throws at her. Makes for terrible working arrangements and is going to start making her cranky; but you take what life gives you right?

Scrapbook Queen says: Welcome to the club, here’s to not much sleep for the next 18 years!

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Christmas differences: 2008 vs 2009

Usually, Christmas is a big deal. When This Girl was younger, Christmas eve was spent caroling- going house to house singing carols, collecting door gifts (which to a child is a big deal) and eating your heart’s out. As This Girl hit her teens, it was still caroling on the eve, with a pitstop at the parent’s place usually then singing for Christmas Drama on Christmas day.

As she entered into young adulthood, it was usually her turn to host the Christmas eve party; then again, up at daybreak to prep for service. As she relinquished her youth service commitments- this began the year she began full time work- it was being participant at the Christmas eve party (The Princess took over the hosting) and being an attendee at Christmas service the following day.

Still, even has her role at Christmas changed, This Girl always loved Christmas; the festivities, the family, the food and the fun. Last year, This Girl and The Boy hosted Christmas eve (and New Year’s eve) at their place since they had just moved in; it was lovely, tiring and quite the BBQ party.

This year could not be more different from the last: work has kept her and The Boy so busy they’ve not really been able to breathe. The pregnancy meant that they are always short on rest; with This Girl gasping for more sleep somedays. The Boy actually knocks out before This Girl, so go figure how tired he is.

Between the two sets of parents, their conflicting schedules, festive politics and general physical fatigue, they are opting for a quiet Christmas. No less, with the bub on the way and the knowing how both sides of the family (read: grandparents) will descend upon them in the coming year. After all, it seems, it’d be their last quiet two-some Christmas.

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Pregnancy week 25: beached whale coming through

Maybe its the time in her life, but many of This Girl’s friends find themselves mothers and soon-to-be-mothers. And as she sat for coffee with a three month old mom, invariably they got to the topic of pregnancy and, for some odd reason, the body image issues that comes with the baby bump turf.

Comparatively, This Girl is lucky to have a relatively “compact” pregnancy; she still has some semblance of a waist, she’s only put on 4.5kg, all of which has gone to belly and boobs. Given than another friend put on 25kg during her pregnancy, with the average woman piling 12kg, This Girl, thus far (touch wood!) has had it kinda good. (Yes, for that she is very grateful).

And still- and The Boy will attest to this- This Girl like all other pregnant women regardless of size battles bouts of body image issues: I feel fat. I feel like a whale. I am fat and lumbering. I feel like a sumo wrestler. Where’s my waist!? My ass is huge! Oh, I’m hungry again…

Its a funny thing, cos non pregnant women and men will never quite understand this odd “beached whale” mindset. Any woman who’s been pregnant will attest to this; no matter how much they love being pregnant- and This Girl loves it- they need to battle this.

One supposes, its a strange result from the blending of the infamous pregnant brain with their growing bodies. And The Boy spends copious amounts of time telling This Girl that she’s hardly even close to anywhere fat; and the people around her keep exclaiming how good she looks and how awesome she looks given she’s pregnant. And even if she does salt reduction on their exclamations and proclamations, her MIND tells her, they are right, but the odd pregnant brain doesn’t quite compute.

Maybe that’s why pregnant women’s eye sight fails a little; its to help us cope better.

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Melbourne 2009: Coming home

Ten glorious days of peace!

The Company held up great without this girl; big kudos to Brunei Princess who had to step in to deal with clients and projects. The Boy managed to NOT open his lappy which he lugged along like a security blanket and only fielded like three work calls all trip choosing to deal with work, clients, colleagues and projects via SMS.

So, after ten glorious days of schedule-less and deadline-less bliss, This Girl and The Boy are ready to return home.

Its been a much needed break and This Girl looks forward to her last training for the year and a much lighter load in the coming 2010 year. Yay!

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