Sunday, July 24, 2016

For the fucking sake of it

What should I do?

Many years ago, a beautiful lady whom I have never met or knew about gave me a beautiful set of earrings and a scarf as gifts and wrote a small note, to never stop blogging. At that time in life, I just thought, that is a crazy thought. I thought to myself, it wouldn't happen and it couldn't happen because I wouldn't and couldn't function as a person without writing things down. I even promised her it would never happen.

Fast forward to many years later, I'm in Australia now, a wife and a mother. Life has changed for me like night and day, like Spring and Winter and a cheap bag and a luxury bag. I have changed - as in I am still the same hippy in heart but my stance in life has changed. I still talk about sex, I still feel like I'm a relationship guru, I still feel in my very elements but I have changed. As in, I am a mother now and being a mother has changed me. There's something about me that can't put things in words and that's something even my capability to illustrate my emotions, stops me from doing so. It's like this writer's block that is going on for years and no, nothing is igniting the flame.

I am a mother. My focus at this moment is setting up a million task for my daughter to enjoy and enrich herself. I am a wife. My focus at this moment is making sure my husband is fed well, and loved much. I am a friend. My focus at this moment is to maintain friendships, and keep gaining new friends in this new area we moved to. I am a sister. My focus at this moment is the 216 Viber messages I need to get on to. I am a daughter. My focus at this moment is to call my parents often enough to remind them I haven't forgotten them. I am a daughter in law. My focus at this moment is to let my parents-in-law know all is good. I am me. A woman who struggles to keep a clean hair and a clean house. I am me. A woman who has long kept herself beside herself and become a family woman.

I am me. I am a woman currently trying so hard to string words together. I am me. A woman eyeing all the luxury handbags. I am me. A woman struggling with an officially-undiagnosed-self-diagnosed secondary fertility issues, which no one seems to fathom but every time I get a negative pregnancy test, I am in denial and every time I get my period, I cry. A woman who mellows down with a broken heart when people ask about siblings for my daughter. No, it's not something I don't have to worry about and yes, now is the best time, not then and not later. A woman who has been stress eating from real life financial strains 101 for real as an adult and daily life struggles.

So writing has been at the furthest, most darkest and most neglected part of my brain.

Confidence is also an issue. How much would one want to read about how my nearly two and a half year old can tell all her shapes, and colours, and count and say her alphabets in jumbles and sing many songs? When I read blogs about mothers going on about their kids, I get bored easily. And now that's the story of my life. If I were to write, I would write about how my daughter told me the best way to pick up our neighbour's very stressed rabbit is by using a towel to wrap him around to pick him up, so he doesn't bite my hand. Wouldn't that bore you?

And this is why I stopped writing. I stopped because I started living in reality and life was no longer a fantasy.

Today, someone told me, get my act together and just "fucking write" and so here I am. Just for the fucking sake of it.


Friday, December 11, 2015

A mommy's journal

Here I am...writing again.

I am stuck. The bub is almost two and I am getting grey. It's been too long since the last post that today, I decided, "Hey, let's move on...and create a more mummy-related blog, and make it a private one so no one will read and no one gets to criticize the way I have chosen to live life, and the way I have chosen to build my family." I wanted to be an enigma.

It was all cool and I had already came up with an interesting address but the only way I could open another blogspot was to use another e-mail address. I am not the one who likes to juggle five e-mail addresses and 10 passwords. So here, I had to stick to my gun.

How has life been since the baby arrived?

Fucking tough.

The only time I get to catch a breather is never. Raising a kid is full on duties. Being a full-time housewife is a whole wave of waves, even when you don't want the waves because you came to the beach to enjoy the salty air and sound of waves, but nope, being a full-time housewife means the waves will encroach you even when you are 20km away from sea.

I am feeling deep-seeded anger at the moment. It's like my teenage angst never left me. I was an adult since I was a baby. That is what happens when you grow up with four older sisters and you are wearing woman clothes since 13.

I married young and I married high...and came right down under. What a slogan! Brilliant, needless to say! Marriage? Pfft, I would never do it again in this life time...of course, and hell, I would never do it in my seven lives after. But then again, I am writing this while I am nursing my frustrations of being wet from the bloody waves.

Life has changed tails and heads, oceans and mountains, night and day, burnt and raw, wind and sunshine. I find it amazing, at almost 26 (oh yes, those who have been guessing my age forever now...low behold!) I have a wonderful bundle of joy (who is, thankfully, very bilingual), a husband who loves me most of the times and I think I love most of the times...and a beautiful home and an establishing edible garden among an array of beautiful young flowers, what more would I want? Maybe it's a weight-issue thing that's pissing me off. Or maybe it's finance...because even in the best of times, money is always dry when you are a single-income family but we have learnt to live quite happily with or without the extra $1000 lying in our saving accounts. But I will say, its mostly my lack of independence and career directions, that is making me feel like a toss between wilted flowers and rotten kebab.

How do I feel now that I have all this written down?

The same way I felt when I started. Very pessimistic. I guess it's either instant noodles for dinner or burgers from Hungry Jacks tonight...I mean that 8kg is not going to shake off even if I had only oatmeal-fruit smoothie.


P.s Please take this with a pinch of salt.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Birth of Alivya

In a blink of an eye, life has changed so much. Finish schooling, get a job, get married and start a family. Make a home. It's been a week of motherhood and I am in a lull of all sorts of emotions. I am happy, sad, guilty, so content yet feel so inadequate but most of the times, I am just a proud new mommy who worries too much for her newborn and her husband.

Parenthood started off with a hmmm. I went way past my due date by almost two weeks and was in the direction of two weeks and a day but had to bring my inducting date earlier to Wednesday, 5th of March when my Amniotic Fluid Level measured just four, instead of the good range of five - 25. I remember my husband and I in a room with the sonographer and she talking to us just a few moments ago to ease the backaches and slight contractions I was already starting to get. I was 1cm dilated. Baby was just touching the cervix but hadn't completely dropped down. And then next moment, she said, we will have to push up the induction to tonight, if not tomorrow by latest. We were the happiest parents-to-be! We were so done waiting. I was done being an overturned turtle and my husband a masseur. We did almost everything to bring on labour but if it wasn't meant to be, I suppose, it will never be. We didn't even feel an ounce of guilt, kicking her out before she was ready.

At 8pm that night, I was started on a drug called Cervadil. It's to ripen and soften my cervix over a period of 12 hours, it was not a contraction inducing drug, its not meant to start labour or anything. But in six hours time, I felt a seeping gush of something. I thought I was holding onto my urine and had accidentally let go. I pressed the call button for my midwife and a student midwife.

"This is embarrassing, I don't know how to say it but I think I wee-ed. And I need you to take off all these machines off me so I can go and take a proper wee."

Midwife replied, "I think your water broke. You never had any bladder problems throughout your pregnancy, why would you have it now?" Her name is Therese and she was all sorts of an angel with a soothing voice to match along with.

And she was right. Only thing was, the water I was passing out was greenish brown in color. It is called "Meconium" in medicine. I can't be bothered to research much about it, but I am pretty darn sure, it meant baby had already poo-ed inside me. By then, I was contracting quite crazily and consistently but I was hardly feeling any pain. They were amazed. I was then taken into the delivery suite. Big and spacious, overlooking the hospital's helipad. I was still leaking more and more...even tinges of blood. I had called my husband but he said he was going to sleep in upon midwife's suggestion (husbands weren't allowed in the ward until labour was active). I wasn't quite happy but nothing makes the man as happy as sleep time. It was after all the middle of the night. Sometime then, I was started on the inducing drug called cytotec (if I am not wrong). At around 4am, baby decided she wanted to be really difficult. She started playing a game only she thinks is funny.

All I remember is my midwife saying, "Now, Genisha, don't be afraid..." as she pressed a red alert code. I was clueless but I was also in a state of blacking out somehow. Because I couldn't open my eyes at all to see all these things unfolding just before me. I was shaking. Shaking so hard from the trauma, I would only associate with. I heard too many footsteps and heard too many voices. Too many hands all over me. A rough lady prying my legs open mid contractions, I barely managed to see her smokey eyes. She was a tiny Asian with strength of a man. She forced her hand up and failed to get the fetal monitor up to baby's head. She tried again. I heard male voices. I tried so hard to keep my emotions in check. And in between that, I was being asked to roll from one side to another periodically. Baby had went into bradycardia arrest. Her heartbeat was fading and had gone to a flat zero. Later Therese told me, they had to resuscitate the baby because she was being cheeky. I was hooked up with too many things everywhere. Hand, both legs and insides. I wasn't allowed to move around and was stuck in bed. Immediately after I reached for my phone and almost screamed into it.

"You better get your ass here. This is your baby I am delivering!"

Therese later told me, the room had all the doctors on duty as well as a few helpers. She also told me that she had warned me that I shouldn't be afraid because the room was going to be full of people. I hadn't heard the end of it. I was pumped with more drugs and then completely stopped. Alivya wasn't liking the inducing drug at all.

By the time hubby came in, I was not calm anymore. I was feeling every bit of contractions. The ones that start in the back were the most excruciating pain in the entire world. I would tremble every time it came. My husband asked if that was alright.  I was contracting so well, four steady deep contraction every 10 minutes. But the only problem was, I was just only dilated at 2cm by 8am. I was about to get started on all the drips again. But before that, I requested for epidural. No way I was going to pull through another shit without pain relievers. I refused to give consent to get started on the inducing drug before I got my epidural...might that mean another hour wait for the anesthetic guy to come up after she was done with an emergency caesarean. I didn't care who I was holding up for whatever reason. It was smooth sailing after that. I slept throughout like a good baby, waking up for a drink and some laughs. Until epidural started to stop working on me after a few hours. I had a super long labour. 32 hours when Cervadil was put in me and 26 hours after water break. I was again trembling in pain. And I was starting to feel all sorts of agitation. I told whoever was in the delivery suite, I could kill someone. I was at the height of irritation. I was introduced to nitrous oxide, the laughing gas. It worked, it left my throat raspy dry but it worked. Husband says I said the most hilarious things while on it that made everyone crack up, but I don't remember saying anything other than the most sensible things. By 11pm on Thursday night, I was just 4cm dilated. I couldn't take it anymore. Husband and I agreed with a caesarean.

We knew she was never a Thursday baby, she never felt like one. I told them to stop me on all sorts of drugs. Husband and I were left alone in the suite and we fell asleep when we could. Our spot kept getting knocked off for more emergency cases, right up till we were at the operating theater door. It was around 3.40am on Friday now. I told husband, I want to deliver the baby after 4am. I went through another shivering shot of epidural by a cutie anesthetic guy named David. He was married with the deepest blue eyes on a chummy face. Every shot of epidural made me feel like I was out of Avatar. HA! The spinal cord chill. And as if as planned, I went on to having baby Alivya at 4.05am exactly. I heard her tiny little cry and then it stopped and then it got stronger. That was the most magical sound I ever heard. Her daddy was by my side. I was shaking like a dry leaf on a really, really windy day from all the drugs. Husband went to cut off the cord. Alivya was showing some breathing problems. We were prepared beforehand that, that might be the case due to the history of the labour. She was whisked away from me with her daddy off to the nursery before I could even hold her. I puked more. Throughout my entire labour, I puked more than 10 times. I hadn't even had a bite of anything so it was only a wonder where it all came from. I puked just as I was pushed out of the theater. Cutie David had to wipe my mucous covered face clean. All I could do go back to sleep. I didn't even intended to do that. About forty-five minutes later, I heard my husband call my name from far back to my right side. And that's when I saw Alivya properly for the first time. All I saw was the darkest black eyes ever looking right back at me. And then I saw the rest of her. She was too fair to be any one of our daughter. She was too gorgeous as well.

Her daddy tells me she was nearly about to get a shot of injections, I assume the steroids, in the nursery to get her breathing properly. Her nose were just flaring up! But just then, she started getting better and when her daddy held her, she recovered herself. Our daughter is a fighter. I look at my husband and I have never seen him smile that wide a smile so content and so full of life. I look at my husband today a week later, exhausted from all the new role of doing everything for me and baby in the kitchen - cooking and all, and middle of the night duties and yet he looks like he is just the most satisfied person in the entire world and nothing is going to faze him from that.

Three nights in the hospital alone was the worst. Again, no husband policy. Hated it like nothing. By day three, I was begging him not to go and we tried to hide him in our small little private room. Nights were long because breastfeeding hadn't been established then. I thought feeding her for 15 minutes would satisfy her, it didn't. I increased feeding time until there was no more breaks in between. How much could a chickpea size stomach feed on? By the end of the first night, at my wit's end, I asked for formula. 15ml down. I regret it deeply. Night two was the same but I was better prepared. But by night three, I was on the verge of driving myself insane. It had been five nights since I had a cuddle with my husband and enough was enough. However many little time Alivya was settled, we squeezed into the small bed and got into our nightly ritual of cuddling and falling asleep. A few minutes of that was all we needed. Midwife came in and as understanding as she was, he had to get out and so he did, in the middle of the night at around 3am. Next day I was getting discharged. Breastfeeding was getting more easier with tonnes of help especially on the last night when I pressed the call button over and over again because I knew it was my last night to gain all the important knowledge of breastfeeding from the experts because boy does it take skills and lots of practice. I had the worst nipple sores ever that didn't make anything easy.

Eight days today, Alivya has been an angel child ever since coming home. She has been sleeping really well and feeding really well. My breast milk has kicked in. Nipple sores have decreased. I have decreased my dosage of painkillers for my surgery drastically as well. I haven't popped in any painkillers today and I think I am heading in the right direction but oh darn, the medicine cabinet is constantly on my mind. The idea of pain is just something I don't even want to put up with. Both husband and I are pretty well rested for new parents. I mean look at me, I just wrote this entire essay without much of a disturbance from Alivya. Took me about an hour, I reckon and I managed to do it in peace, in between feeds.

Since yesterday, she was latching on nicely for about 30 minutes each feed and with three hours of sleep. Since yesterday night, I think with more breast milk, she is going at 15-20 minutes and waking up quicker or just around the three hour mark. My diet is all typical Nepali confinement chicken soup two main meals a day that my husband, mother-in-law and my sister cooks for me with tea for breakfast and some biscuits. And some mid-afternoon snacks and something to drink. Yesterday night, my husband cooked the worst of the lot. He is still feeling guilty about it. And obviously my sister has been making the best! I am so lucky to have her during this stage of life. My family is, too. She cooks my family a feast whenever she come around. Their family adores Alivya too much! And we love Alivya so much, its hard to fathom how.

Lots of love,

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Catching up on a lot of (baby) updates

You would think a million other reasons that would finally make me write again, and I can bet you over my gorgeous wedding ring that I can no longer fit comfortably into since last week, you would never imagine it to be the bloody Melbourne heat. It is about 40 degrees hot outside. It technically feels like I am a dish in an hot and dry convectional oven. I wish I felt more like a red velvet cake baking than a stuffed, fat and old chicken. Week 32 onward of baby making has started to become the idea of a mournful, groan-filled, small lunged and a rather agonizing painful pregnancy.

I am swollen. My soles are so battered from the 12-14kg I have put on so far. My baby belly is so small, my husband calls me confused - I look a toss of fat on some days and on other lucky days when Alivya decides she wants to have fun at squeezing both my bladder and lungs simultaneously, a wonder how a tiny little bub can do so much in so little space, I look about 5-6 months pregnant. My husband's favorite words are, "She must be so small!" Today, he said, "You definitely don't look like you are at your last month... Women at this stage are frighteningly huge! You don't look scary." But something must have happened to my size if I can no longer fit into most of my clothes and I gladly live in my husband's very, very worn t-shirts. Also, thank God, my bust size didn't increase much or at all, because that would have made my belly look even more compact than it already is. On a blessing note, I am still stretch marks free and belly button is not looking like it is going to pop out at 34 weeks and three days today.

I haven't updated much since we found out she is a girl. I made the sonographer check her sex twice that day, at the start of the scan at 20 weeks and towards the end of the almost two hour long session with lunch in between. Alivya is stubborn just like daddy and me. She hates the ultrasound wand on her. She literally kicked it away at it at the 13 weeks' scan and then refused to turn around at 20 weeks. We did catch her making a peace "twist" sign with her fingers though. She has 10 toes and 10 fingers. We counted! And tears welled up in my eyes when I learned she was a girl. I thought it was a boy all along but knew she was a girl. At around 18-19th weeks, I had a dream that I had just given birth to a baby and I was about to nurse it for the first time since delivery and husband and I sneaked a peak at the baby's genitals. It was clear girl part.

Since then, her name has been Alivya (Alivia; before her daddy decided A-Liv-Ya sounded like I love you and we loved it!) Alivya was a name I had long chosen for my daughter and every guy I met and thought I was head over heels in love with didn't agree with the name until I met Alivya's daddy. That made me say yes to marrying him. And while we were hunting around for the perfect Nepalese name for the middle, we came up with nothing until her daddy decided she is gonna be named Alivya Rose. Absolutely-out-of-the-world PERFECT! My sisters have probably gotten used to her name by now but in the start they thought Rose sounded too Filipino but I reckon they still harbor fears she will come out looking like "Kalpana" or something else. My dad calls her Rose, so lovingly.

I started feeling her movements obviously around the 22nd week and after much, much frustrations and giving up on her daddy ever begin able to feel her cute little dances, one morning at 26 weeks, she kicked her daddy's bum - literally. The night before, I caught him smoking after quitting it for some time and I wasn't happy at all and in the morning, it was like as if his daughter was telling him off and saying he is just too naughty.  I thought he hadn't felt it but then he turns around and quips, "Did she just kick?!" It was a celebration.

Now at 34 weeks, they are best friends and awesome play buddies. Daddy taps and she taps back. She is definitely Daddy's Little Girl and I am not even the slightest jealous he loves her more than he loves me. I think we have settled almost everything and are just waiting for her safe arrival. My in-laws are coming over to help us with the baby next week and I am 80% excited about it, 20% not so because we are so used to living alone and in our own context and freedom. I hope their stay will be only for the better.

At 34 weeks, I am not currently working. I completed my studies by the end of my 6th month pregnancy. And now, its all week by week for us and soon it will be day by day and eventually its just a matter of seconds. So far, my husband has been the strongest pillar of strength for me. While he enrages me and I know he would want to kill me too often, I am where I am because he held on strongly to me and for me and for our little budding family. Yes, pregnancy has changed my bodies in the worst ways, I am 90% of the time cranky or moody but he is still around for the better and for the worst. And for this, I am very grateful.

With love,

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Dear baby at 15 weeks

Oh, how time passes by so quickly! I am sorry I have been procrastinating blog posts. But creating you has been extremely exhausting for me, and with school and dreadful winters, it wasn't helping at all. And now Spring is here, the exhaustion part of the pregnancy seems to be slowly leaving me and I feel way better than I did. I also no longer have an aversion to vegetables, which is a yay for us but nah for Daddy because I feed him complete vegetarian meals somedays and he goes, "Where's my meat!"

I have been meaning to tell you we saw you around at 13 weeks and two days. My lord are you going to be one little stubborn girl. Yes, you are probably a girl! We kind of saw your wee-wee but then again, the ultrasound lady (I bet there is a proper term for their profession but excuse you knuckle-head Mummy) kept saying, at this gestational age, it is still very common for all babies to look like girl. You must be wondering, why stubborn? One day when you are old enough, we will show your videos of you in my tummy and you will have a great laugh. I am pretty sure your Daddy has plans to show them at your wedding day. You simply refused to move or flip around, no matter how much you were nudged at that your Daddy got pissed about because he hated the ultrasound lady disturbing you (and he thinks hurts you as well). I was told to cough a few times but nope, you refused it. You knew how you wanted to be and you were exactly what you wanted to do. Atta girl! I love that about you already. And when finally you decided, okay, just be nice for a while…and you flipped, perfect! But yes, yes if you are absolutely our baby girl. Even at a wee bit size that you were (I can't remember how many CM exactly, maybe a eight or a 10), you are already showing characteristics very classic of both Daddy and I. You gave us a good laugh - and a lot of aw. Darling baby, we love you so much already…can you imagine how much more we will love you when you are finally in our arms? Which we can't wait for!

Your Daddy dearest is on cloud nine. He loves massaging you, touching you and calling you a naughty baby or cheeky baby when you put me in a roller coaster ride. He comes home each night, rubs you and asks if his baby has been naughty. Yes, his baby. While I feel it is unfair to start calling you naughty so soon, I can't help but find it  absolutely adoring. Your Daddy's love for you is such a contentment for me. The way he loves you, I wonder if I will ever match up to it and the way he loves you, makes me love you just the same and makes you even more real to me than ever. It is very easy to forget I am pregnant mind you.

My belly size, well, it is starting to show but it generally looks like a pile of fats to the rest of the people. We are hitting four months in a couple of days and we are still not looking pregnant. Maybe by five months, more people will finally understand why I am constantly eating and looking so fat and round around my tummy, and why I am extremely tired all the time and have a lot of difficulties just being active enough to study like the rest of my classmates. Today, the entire day, it feels like my womb has been stretched in all parts of corner at intervals. You must be making Mummy's womb your favourite playground. Just enjoy yourself in there little hub, and be careful around the umbilical cord…just be careful darling.

And yes, it is surprise you are a girl. So much that if you turn out a boy in the end, I wouldn't be at all surprised! But sex doesn't really matter to us. Your Daddy hates when I wish you were a boy instead for several reasons. But really, I don't mind whatever you are. I just need one goddamn thing from you tiny little thing and that is, for you to be the healthiest cherub in the world. Promise me that.

With love,

Baby effects: We see you!

Dear bub,

On Friday, we saw you for the first time. Your Daddy is still so amazed we have you. The flicker of your heartbeat on the screen is still something your Daddy fondly thinks of daily, I am sure. I have read stories of people tearing up and getting all emotional, but sorry, I don't have any fancy stories to tell you, except that your Daddy was pretty much blown away and I thought I knew how you looked but turned out, I had made your butt your head and your head, a butt. Haha! I can only imagine how you will come out. 

Your Daddy is absolutely excited to see you and meet you. He can't seem to stop thinking about how you would look like, how his first child will look like. One night, he was just talking normally and then suddenly he remembered you and he went all emotional and he started thanking me for carrying his child and being the mother of his baby. That bought tears to my eyes and the biggest smile on my face. And kissing me. 

But something is also happening here, I don't really enjoy it when your Daddy kisses me nowadays. I go all squirmish, and offer him my chin or side cheeks for him to kiss and that too with a lot of muscle spasms and distant and he gets offended. Today he slapped my butt when I turned my face upside down when he kissed me before he left for work, saying, "That's just the smell of Colgate," as he had just brushed his teeth. 

At almost 9 weeks, you are doing weird things to mummy. I am starving but things feel so weird around my mouth that I don't even want to open it, needless to say, putting food inside seems like a forbidden idea. My tongue feels heavy and it's all sort of different taste - starving but a serious lack of appetite. I am sorry if you are not getting the right nutrients while I decide what might sound edible.

Pregnancy is such a weird thing. My body and its needs changes every few weeks, just when I get used to it. For the last few weeks, I battled with constant hunger issues to the point of annoyance. I would eat a good meal and than 20 minutes later, my stomach feels absolutely empty. I gained almost three kilograms from all those eating all around the clock. And now, I don't feel bloated and yucky, and I am pretty sure the three kilograms I had put on, is already lost along the way. Now, I am again learning the new effects of 8 weeks pregnancy. It's hunger but zero appetite, even when I try to think of the yummiest food on earth.

Yesterday, I had a long day in school and came home and huffed down some delicious lasagna I had made the day earlier with some leftover chicken and I slept after it was digested and woke up pretty late. I couldn't decide what I wanted to eat and it was getting annoying. I was hungry and starting to feel really nauseated and then your Daddy came from work and rescued the day. I wanted egg fried rice like how my mother makes it. Simple and so delicious. But your Daddy, in attempt to make a more filling and healthy very late dinner for me, bugged me with "Do you want carrots in it? Vegetables? Frozen ones? Fishballs?" At one point, I snapped and muttered, "Just egg, rice and soy sauce." I heard him going, "What a bitch!" Ha! 

I knew it wouldn't be good, something would have gone drastically wrong but my oh my, it was as if my mother has made it for me. I ate the whole damn plateful which left even your Daddy surprised with a can of sprite in ice ( really couldn't help it). I don't know how he did it, because I have tried many times to do the same but I always end up with shitty taste. I was so very thankful. 

So I have been very extremely tired these days, wanting to always lay in bed and do nothing, I can't even fall asleep. Been having serious cravings for all the food I could find in Nepal - the street food, momo and chowmein (together), thakali khanna with fermented radish pickle, mom's food, sel roti and Alu, a lot of starchy food like potatoes and turnips which I never used to like, chatpateh, Korean food, pizza from Fire and Ice, more thakali food, even dhedo and sisno, (dhedo is something I never enjoyed), and sukuti ko jhol with timur ko achar (just the jhol cos I don't like the tough meat), and pure milk tea, fried wai wai noodles, chowmein drowned in ketchup and momo ko achar, Cafe Soma's Rosemary Burger and wedge fries and their thick milkshake...every goddamn Nepali food I can think of, I want it! I really hope sometime in this pregnancy, I can get back home to just eat the good food but I don't see it happening with school and everything :( 

But I try to recreate the dishes here and let's say, we are having a ball testing out culinary skills. Also, I can't wait for you to come out, just so the multi-vitamin pills I take for you can take a detour. I dread each part of the night when I have to take those huge pills. I usually down it with some juice or ice green tea or something sweet but some days, it just threatens to come back up and leaves an awful after taste. But baby oh baby, I am so glad I am the few lucky ones who didn't suffer from any morning sickness and for that, cheers baby.

With love, 


Thursday, August 29, 2013

Baby at 6.5 weeks: Nausea hits

Dear Bub,

I feel like you are enjoying yourself, laughing even every time I start to feel terrible and probably thinking to yourself, "Mummy, I am just training you, and you are doing soooooo good!" Yesterday, I did a horrible thing to your Daddy. I woke him up in the middle of the night, begged and later dragged him out of his sleepy state of mind to take me out for a drive and maybe some Chinese breakfast, at 5am! It was crazy but all I wanted was to get out of the house. The whole room was stinking to me and obviously, I couldn't sleep. Your Daddy was pissed, but he is learning the hormones are something he can't avoid and it is better if he deals with it in smiles and sunshines than a tiny little frown.

We drove to Burwood  Highway, with the 24 hours K-mart in mind but later I remembered the Singaporean-Malaysian restaurant across the street and all we wanted to do was snuggle in some Roti Prata and a plate of Mee Goreng with a cup of Malaysian Tea. But it was closed. The problem with Melbourne is that there are only a few eateries that opens early and closes late. We drove around a bit and since I wasn't up for The Pancake Parlour or any other fancy restaurants in the city (and I wasn't dressed at all for it), we drove to Box Hill and as expected it was a dead city except for McDonalds which I would have love to eat but your Daddy was persistent in having something healthy. So we sat down and ordered some expensive waffles which was extremely sweet and too thick, completely not what I could stomach. One bite and I was done. My eyes kept roving around for the bread shop next door to open and the instant the gates shuttered up, I grabbed a deep fried sausage bun. I am loving sausages now something which I used to avoid before. I had a bite and it wasn't as good as I thought it would be but I didn't want to be such a picky eater and so I ate it bite by bite, slowly. It was nice but at that moment, all I wanted was McDonalds. I learnt then that I shouldn't be so unpersuasive when it comes to food. If my stomach or you demand this specific food, I need to convince your Daddy all other food are not an option. Your Daddy learnt that as he rushed through morning traffic to get me home before I puked all over his new car.

I ran straight into the door, one shoe accidentally got stuck in between the ajar door but I couldn't be bothered and went straight for the toilet bowl. This morning at around 7am, we celebrated our first puke. Your Daddy just stared from the door in total amazement and barely made out his next few words. "Are you fine?" And I was completely fine. The only thing I wanted to do next, after emptying my stomach was sleep and I slept until 11.30am like a baby until your Daddy came waking me up. The whole of yesterday, after every meal, I am been throwing up. Until your Daddy came home from work and fixed me a fresh salmon congee from scratch and it was the first food I could hold in throughout the day. I was starving and literally shaking from hunger and weakness, by the time the congee was ready. I always feel like you want your Daddy's love, maybe that is how you reward him.

All that puking has stopped today, funnily. Though I am so tired that we came home from Springvale and I instantly zonked out for hours straight while your Daddy fixed our next mounting TV unit. But today, I have also been eating all the food I am craving for. I thought I could eat all of the Char Sui Pau but after a few bites, I was done. Instead, I was aiming for your Daddy's Vietnamese Roll with BBQ pork slices. I had seen the lady put drops of fish sauce in it and I was all queasy seeing it but my lord, it was the best thing in the world. I couldn't stop myself. While your Daddy finished the rest of my pau, I took small but delicious bites of it. And since I can't eat too much, I couldn't have it all and more and now, I can't stop thinking about how gorgeous that entire combination was, even with all the vegetables in there which I can't seem to stand. Baby oh baby, you make food all the more confusing for me than ever.

So I have this intense cravings for all types of noodles and your Daddy doesn't let me have instant noodles (one day I gave in, despite knowing it was a horrible food lacking in proper nutrients and very high in MSG and I woke up hungry twice in a row, something which has yet to happen.) I never liked Pho but today, I was walking about the Vietnamese suburb and I saw people biting into chunky pieces of beef and rice noodles and a hot bowl of soup and I wanted it terribly but I knew I couldn't hold it in and I wouldn't be able to have more than four bites of it and besides, from personal experiences all of these food are spiked with too much MSG and I really don't have the stomach size to drown water like a whale that I used to be before and with the onset of dehydration from yesterday's puking incidents, it was only going to be a bad idea. So I got a step smarter, bought some pork bones and made a broth out of it for more than three hours under fire and had it with egg noodles. Absolutely heavenly! I love it when your Daddy is home because when he is home, the entire environment of the home is so vastly different and naturally, I feel good.

Puking incident nailed down to zero from thrice after every main meal before supper with Daddy yesterday has something to account for. Your Daddy is the man!

With love,

*29 June 2013