Showing posts with label mumsy's mumbles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mumsy's mumbles. Show all posts
Friday, December 29, 2017
Coldplay - Everglow (Single Version) - Official Video
Some songs just rip our hearts apart and open the floodgates.
This is one of them.
And I immediately think of Dad. It's been almost 2 years since his passing, and I've picked myself up and moved on.
But every now and then, in the most unexpected moments, I'll think of him.
Missing you Dad. Very, very much.
Everglow
oh they say people come, say people go
this particular diamond was extra special
and though you might be gone, and the world may not know
still I see you, celestial
like a lion you ran, a goddess you rolled
like an eagle you circled, in perfect purple
so how come things move on, how come cars don’t slow
when it feels like the end of my world
when I should but I can’t let you go?
but when I’m cold, cold
oh when I’m cold, cold
there’s a light that you give me when I’m in shadow
there’s a feeling you give me, an everglow
like brothers in blood, sisters who ride
and we swore on that night we’d be friends til we die
but the changing of winds, and the way waters flow
life as short as the falling of snow
and now I’m gonna miss you I know
but when I’m cold, cold
in water rolled, salt
I know that you’re with me and the way you will show
and you’re with me wherever I go
and you give me this feeling this everglow
oh- I I I I
what I wouldn’t give for just a moment to hold
yeah I live for this feeling this everglow
so if you love someone, you should let them know
oh the light that you left me will everglow
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Happy 74th. If only.
Hey Dad
Tomorrow would have been your 74th birthday.
We'd probably have made arrangements for dinner, while the kids would have picked out your birthday cake and made you cards.
Unfortunately, we won't be doing any of these tomorrow. Or ever again.
Nobody would have thought that last year would be the last birthday we'd ever celebrate with you.
If only we knew.
Mum called earlier and she broke down. She was thinking of dinner with the kids tomorrow night but I've to attend an official school event and can't make it. She was disappointed. I think she wanted to be occupied so that she won't be missing your presence so very much.
But I intend to drop by Bright Hill Temple's Ancestral Hall after my morning lessons to visit you. Told Mum we could go for lunch instead before I head back to work. I'll call her later to confirm the arrangements.
Life for us goes on. We miss you, but we just have to march forward and put the pain aside. I have my kids and work to keep myself occupied, so it's much easier for me to solider on although I still do get emotional every once in a while.
I know it's unbearable for Mum but she is coping the best she can, and I'm proud of her efforts to keep positive. But I think you know her best, and how empty she actually feels.
Wherever you are, I hope you've settled in nicely. Do visit us whenever you can spare time from your busy schedule - of course I know you're tied up with many projects and engagements with old friends. You're not one to be twiddling your thumbs and watching clouds drift by. You were never the idler in life, so there's no way you'll be one in the afterlife.
Here's one for the memories, Dad.
Your loving daughter always
YC
Tomorrow would have been your 74th birthday.
We'd probably have made arrangements for dinner, while the kids would have picked out your birthday cake and made you cards.
Unfortunately, we won't be doing any of these tomorrow. Or ever again.
Nobody would have thought that last year would be the last birthday we'd ever celebrate with you.
If only we knew.
Mum called earlier and she broke down. She was thinking of dinner with the kids tomorrow night but I've to attend an official school event and can't make it. She was disappointed. I think she wanted to be occupied so that she won't be missing your presence so very much.
But I intend to drop by Bright Hill Temple's Ancestral Hall after my morning lessons to visit you. Told Mum we could go for lunch instead before I head back to work. I'll call her later to confirm the arrangements.
Life for us goes on. We miss you, but we just have to march forward and put the pain aside. I have my kids and work to keep myself occupied, so it's much easier for me to solider on although I still do get emotional every once in a while.
I know it's unbearable for Mum but she is coping the best she can, and I'm proud of her efforts to keep positive. But I think you know her best, and how empty she actually feels.
Wherever you are, I hope you've settled in nicely. Do visit us whenever you can spare time from your busy schedule - of course I know you're tied up with many projects and engagements with old friends. You're not one to be twiddling your thumbs and watching clouds drift by. You were never the idler in life, so there's no way you'll be one in the afterlife.
Here's one for the memories, Dad.
 |
| Dad's 73rd (and final) Birthday celebration |
Your loving daughter always
YC
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Luther Vandross - Dance With My Father
Yesterday was Dad's 100 Day Death Anniversary.
We had a simple ceremony where prayers were chanted and there were offerings of vegetarian food and fruits. Dad would have preferred his spicy Indian dishes for sure, but we weren't allowed to bring our own food to the Ancestral Hall.
I'd dreamt of Dad again that very morning. This time, he actually asked, "Am I dead?"
Dad may be physically gone from our world but I believe he's very much alive and kicking in the spiritual realm.
Here's another song for you Dad. Very apt.
Dance with my Father
Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me
And then
Spin me around 'till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure
I was loved
If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again
When I and my mother
Would disagree
To get my way I would run
From her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me
yeah yeah
Then finally make me do
Just what my mama said
Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me
If I could steal one final glance
One final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to
Dance with my father again
Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
And I'd hear how mama would cry for him
I'd pray for her even more than me
I'd pray for her even more than me
I know I'm praying for much to much
But could you send her
The only man she loved
I know you don't do it usually
But Dear Lord
She's dying to dance with my father again
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream
We had a simple ceremony where prayers were chanted and there were offerings of vegetarian food and fruits. Dad would have preferred his spicy Indian dishes for sure, but we weren't allowed to bring our own food to the Ancestral Hall.
I'd dreamt of Dad again that very morning. This time, he actually asked, "Am I dead?"
Dad may be physically gone from our world but I believe he's very much alive and kicking in the spiritual realm.
Here's another song for you Dad. Very apt.
Dance with my Father
Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me
And then
Spin me around 'till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure
I was loved
If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again
When I and my mother
Would disagree
To get my way I would run
From her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me
yeah yeah
Then finally make me do
Just what my mama said
Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me
If I could steal one final glance
One final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to
Dance with my father again
Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
And I'd hear how mama would cry for him
I'd pray for her even more than me
I'd pray for her even more than me
I know I'm praying for much to much
But could you send her
The only man she loved
I know you don't do it usually
But Dear Lord
She's dying to dance with my father again
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream
Sunday, June 19, 2016
42 Years. Minus Dad.
Today is Fathers' Day and coincidentally it falls on my birthday this year.
And it will be my first birthday in 42 years without Dad.
Sure, there were years Dad was away on business trips or on holidays with Mum, or I wasn't home during my birthdays. Back in 1991 when I was a Junior College student, I participated in the Pre University Seminar Singapore: The Next Lap and my birthday fell in the middle of that week long camp. I was residing at Sheares Hall, National University of Singapore, and I remember receiving a handwritten note during meal time to head over to the general office. Mum had called and asked them to relay a Happy Birthday message since they weren't able to spend my birthday with me.
And it will be my first birthday in 42 years without Dad.
Sure, there were years Dad was away on business trips or on holidays with Mum, or I wasn't home during my birthdays. Back in 1991 when I was a Junior College student, I participated in the Pre University Seminar Singapore: The Next Lap and my birthday fell in the middle of that week long camp. I was residing at Sheares Hall, National University of Singapore, and I remember receiving a handwritten note during meal time to head over to the general office. Mum had called and asked them to relay a Happy Birthday message since they weren't able to spend my birthday with me.
Mobile phones and social media hadn't exploded on the scene in the 1990s and we relied heavily on old-school communication methods like snail mail and land-line telephones.
But this year, Dad won't even be physically present because we're no longer residing on the same realm.
Many countries around the world, including Singapore, set aside the third Sunday of June to honour Fathers. I did my own little research and discovered that the first ever Fathers' Day was celebrated on 19 June 1910. Since then, Fathers' Day has taken place on 19 June 16 times and if Dad was around, we'd have enjoyed a double celebration for the seventh time.
Fathers' Day usually takes a backseat in our household because Dad doesn't like to be fussed over. A card, simple meal and a token of appreciation would suffice. When the grandkids came along, the atmosphere livened up considerably. My super strict disciplinarian Dad transformed into a super doting Granddad and I couldn't believe he's the same man who'd insist I consume every edible morsel on my plate but waved his hands nonchalantly when my girls had leftovers on theirs - "Don't finish, never mind."
Our last Fathers' Day meal was at The Mouth Restaurant, NEX. I'd brought along home-cooked porridge for Qi and I recall how Dad was amused by her antics at the dinner table because she was curious about our food. He had commented, "Very soon she'll be running around and joining her sisters."
Little did we know that it would be our final Father's Day dinner with Dad.
Anyway, I'm in no mood to celebrate anything. Not when one of the duo responsible for my existence no longer exists. While I've never been close enough to Dad to openly pour out my woes and chat about frivolous matters, I think we do share an unspoken bond that's hard to describe. To me, he's a man of few words (because he speaks to me only when the need arises), and I'd get all nervous whenever we sit down for a heart-to-heart conversation. He'd always appeared cold, unfeeling, disapproving and stern, and I was accustomed to being chided for every little thing that angered him.
It's akin to being hauled up by the School Discipline Master and waiting to be admonished for something you've obviously done wrong but clueless about what that is.
Anyway, I'm in no mood to celebrate anything. Not when one of the duo responsible for my existence no longer exists. While I've never been close enough to Dad to openly pour out my woes and chat about frivolous matters, I think we do share an unspoken bond that's hard to describe. To me, he's a man of few words (because he speaks to me only when the need arises), and I'd get all nervous whenever we sit down for a heart-to-heart conversation. He'd always appeared cold, unfeeling, disapproving and stern, and I was accustomed to being chided for every little thing that angered him.
It's akin to being hauled up by the School Discipline Master and waiting to be admonished for something you've obviously done wrong but clueless about what that is.
Despite our apparent lack of communication, Dad was always there when I needed advice for life-changing situations. And he always knew the right things to say that would make the most sense. Those were the times when his words would matter most.
While I've accepted his passing, the sense of loss can be overwhelming and I'm still prone to the occasional sob 'n' sniffle. Unlike my mum, aunts, daughters and even the hub, I hadn't dreamt of him since he left us in March. Initially I was rather upset. Why wasn't I able to see him in my dreams at all? Because he's still upset and disappointed in me after all these years?
I'd slowly begun to accept that maybe - just maybe - Dad really didn't think much of his only child, and that I was more an obligation, a responsibility to him. I don't think he'd ever told me or made me feel that he loved me.
Until early Friday morning when he appeared in my dreams.
I was walking towards an elevator and there he stood, with his back facing me. He was dressed in a collared short-sleeved shirt (dark blue?) and beige/cream pants. I called out "Hey Dad!".
He turned, spotted me, his eyes lit up and gave me a huge warm smile.
"Hel-lo!" Dad called out in his usual manner. I hugged him.
"How have you been, Dad?"
"Good, good!" he replied in his usual fashion.
"We miss you!"
And then I jolted out of bed. It was in the wee hours of Friday morning. I sat up for a while, unable to believe that Dad had (finally) appeared in my dreams. I took that as a positive sign, that he's happy where he is and he's acknowledged me. And for the rest of the day, I was glowing.
His brief appearance in my dreams couldn't have come at a better time. And it lessened the heartache a little.
He gave me an early surprise birthday present and that's definitely worth more than physical gifts.
Thanks Dad for remembering my birthday.
And thank you for being My Dad. Happy Fathers' Day.
While I've accepted his passing, the sense of loss can be overwhelming and I'm still prone to the occasional sob 'n' sniffle. Unlike my mum, aunts, daughters and even the hub, I hadn't dreamt of him since he left us in March. Initially I was rather upset. Why wasn't I able to see him in my dreams at all? Because he's still upset and disappointed in me after all these years?
I'd slowly begun to accept that maybe - just maybe - Dad really didn't think much of his only child, and that I was more an obligation, a responsibility to him. I don't think he'd ever told me or made me feel that he loved me.
Until early Friday morning when he appeared in my dreams.
I was walking towards an elevator and there he stood, with his back facing me. He was dressed in a collared short-sleeved shirt (dark blue?) and beige/cream pants. I called out "Hey Dad!".
He turned, spotted me, his eyes lit up and gave me a huge warm smile.
"Hel-lo!" Dad called out in his usual manner. I hugged him.
"How have you been, Dad?"
"Good, good!" he replied in his usual fashion.
"We miss you!"
And then I jolted out of bed. It was in the wee hours of Friday morning. I sat up for a while, unable to believe that Dad had (finally) appeared in my dreams. I took that as a positive sign, that he's happy where he is and he's acknowledged me. And for the rest of the day, I was glowing.
 |
| Dad and I exactly two decades ago as we celebrated my 22nd birthday |
Yes, I may be in my 40s but I still feel like a child yearning for a parent's approval. In my mind, Dad's extremely difficult to please and we were at loggerheads (mostly during my teens) because I constantly believed he was disappointed with everything I did.
His brief appearance in my dreams couldn't have come at a better time. And it lessened the heartache a little.
He gave me an early surprise birthday present and that's definitely worth more than physical gifts.
Thanks Dad for remembering my birthday.
And thank you for being My Dad. Happy Fathers' Day.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Josh Groban - To where you are
Hey Dad
I'm not *really* a huge Josh Groban fan, but every time I hear this song, my heart shatters, the tears fall freely and I'm reminded of our loss.
Dad, this is exactly how I feel. Yes, I do miss you immensely. Who wouldn't?
I'm not *really* a huge Josh Groban fan, but every time I hear this song, my heart shatters, the tears fall freely and I'm reminded of our loss.
Dad, this is exactly how I feel. Yes, I do miss you immensely. Who wouldn't?
Your daughter always
YC
To Where You Are
Who can say for certain?
Maybe you're still here
I feel you all around me
Your memories so clear
Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You're still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are my forever love
And you are watching over me from up above?
Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream?
And isn't faith believing?
All power can't be seen
As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me
Everyday
'Cause you are my forever love
Watching me from up above
And I believe that angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave
Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
I know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
YC
To Where You Are
Who can say for certain?
Maybe you're still here
I feel you all around me
Your memories so clear
Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You're still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are my forever love
And you are watching over me from up above?
Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream?
And isn't faith believing?
All power can't be seen
As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me
Everyday
'Cause you are my forever love
Watching me from up above
And I believe that angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave
Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
I know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
Friday, April 15, 2016
Dad's demise: four weeks on
Dad left exactly a month ago. There are moments I feel like it was just yesterday, and then other times I feel like it's been way longer.
But I can still see his face so vividly. I can hear his stern voice reprimanding me, his usual gruff "understand or not?" to mark the end of each scolding session.
How can I forget his signature scowl and trademark phrases "What a moron!", "That bugger!" etc. And the furrowed eyebrows. Classic.
Ironic that I would actually miss all of Dad's quick-tempered, hot-tempered explosions. Really, that's how I remember him best.
We didn't shared very many "dad and daughter" moments. But because these were so rare, I treasure the memories - even if 70% of the time it was me trying to avert his glare and choking back tears. Because he was such a difficult person to please, whatever I did, it didn't seem to quite match up to his expectations.
Outwardly, Dad was a strict disciplinarian who set high standards and tough rules. Naturally, I was terrified of him when I was growing up. But over the years, he's mellowed and my girls can't imagine him being such a tough parent because he's such a sweet doting granddad to them.
After almost 42 years, I finally understand his intentions and ways. That's how he expressed his care and concern. And I wished I possessed the wisdom earlier to interpret his "overbearing" behaviour. I guess Dad was just being protective and he wanted me to be "tough" so that I wouldn't be taken advantage of. He was probably worried that if I grew up soft and spoilt, I would not able to take care of myself if he's not around to watch out for me.
But I can still see his face so vividly. I can hear his stern voice reprimanding me, his usual gruff "understand or not?" to mark the end of each scolding session.
How can I forget his signature scowl and trademark phrases "What a moron!", "That bugger!" etc. And the furrowed eyebrows. Classic.
Ironic that I would actually miss all of Dad's quick-tempered, hot-tempered explosions. Really, that's how I remember him best.
We didn't shared very many "dad and daughter" moments. But because these were so rare, I treasure the memories - even if 70% of the time it was me trying to avert his glare and choking back tears. Because he was such a difficult person to please, whatever I did, it didn't seem to quite match up to his expectations.
Outwardly, Dad was a strict disciplinarian who set high standards and tough rules. Naturally, I was terrified of him when I was growing up. But over the years, he's mellowed and my girls can't imagine him being such a tough parent because he's such a sweet doting granddad to them.
After almost 42 years, I finally understand his intentions and ways. That's how he expressed his care and concern. And I wished I possessed the wisdom earlier to interpret his "overbearing" behaviour. I guess Dad was just being protective and he wanted me to be "tough" so that I wouldn't be taken advantage of. He was probably worried that if I grew up soft and spoilt, I would not able to take care of myself if he's not around to watch out for me.
Dad, I'm sorry I took so long to appreciate what you've done for me. And now it's too late to tell you that.
Monday, April 11, 2016
Billy Boyd: The Last Goodbye
It's been four weeks.
It's not getting easier. In fact, the "brave" front I've tried hard to put up is crumbling. Ironically, I'm not holding up as well as I did in the initial days of Dad's passing. I tried to keep busy at work, but I can't seem to get my act together. The slightest trigger sets me off, and my poor girls are the ones who bear the brunt of my emotional rages. And I am angry with myself for making them them upset.
All this shall pass, that I know. The process of healing will be a long, arduous task. Those who have lost will understand. Those who haven't witnessed a love one pass on will claim they do and try to emphatise. But they won't until they experience it. And then there are the practical ones who matter-of-factly advise that the only thing certain in Life is Death, so I shouldn't wallow in grief.
I appreciate their good intentions, but I also want to politely remind them that everyone is different, and how we express our emotions is unique to each individual. Please don't judge.
Dad, I know you're watching over me. I don't want to disappoint you, but I could really use some of your help right now to be strong.
Sharing Billy Boyd's The Last Goodbye from The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. I imagine that's what he would be saying to each and everyone of us - "I bid you all a very fond farewell."
The Last Goodbye
I saw the light fade from the sky
On the wind I heard a sigh
As the snowflakes cover
My fallen brothers
I will say this last goodbye
Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the sea
Under cloud, beneath the stars
Over snow and winter's morn
I turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell
Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don't regret
Nor will I forget
All who took that road with me
Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill, and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the sea
To these memories I will hold
With your blessing I will go
To turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell
I bid you all a very fond farewell
It's not getting easier. In fact, the "brave" front I've tried hard to put up is crumbling. Ironically, I'm not holding up as well as I did in the initial days of Dad's passing. I tried to keep busy at work, but I can't seem to get my act together. The slightest trigger sets me off, and my poor girls are the ones who bear the brunt of my emotional rages. And I am angry with myself for making them them upset.
All this shall pass, that I know. The process of healing will be a long, arduous task. Those who have lost will understand. Those who haven't witnessed a love one pass on will claim they do and try to emphatise. But they won't until they experience it. And then there are the practical ones who matter-of-factly advise that the only thing certain in Life is Death, so I shouldn't wallow in grief.
I appreciate their good intentions, but I also want to politely remind them that everyone is different, and how we express our emotions is unique to each individual. Please don't judge.
Dad, I know you're watching over me. I don't want to disappoint you, but I could really use some of your help right now to be strong.
Sharing Billy Boyd's The Last Goodbye from The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. I imagine that's what he would be saying to each and everyone of us - "I bid you all a very fond farewell."
The Last Goodbye
I saw the light fade from the sky
On the wind I heard a sigh
As the snowflakes cover
My fallen brothers
I will say this last goodbye
Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the sea
Under cloud, beneath the stars
Over snow and winter's morn
I turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell
Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don't regret
Nor will I forget
All who took that road with me
Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill, and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the sea
To these memories I will hold
With your blessing I will go
To turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell
I bid you all a very fond farewell
Tuesday, April 05, 2016
Dad's demise: three weeks on
Dad left us exactly three weeks ago.
We're still coming to terms with the emptiness but we plod on with our daily routine and busy ourselves so that we won't have time to notice his absence.
My aunts (his younger sisters) and two of my daughters (Xian and Wei) have dreamt of him. In their dreams, he's smiling, cheerful, feasting on his favourite foods, waving from the car, horseback riding etc. I haven't dreamt of Dad at all, but I do have dreams related to him even though he's not appeared in them. So yes, he's still in our hearts and minds.
I can't (and don't want to) retain images of him in his last few months when he was so severely weakened by treatments that his memory, mobility and speech were affected. I hated to see my father wither away, fighting a futile duel with Death, a battle no mortal has ever won.
No, I'm sure that's not how he wants us to remember him. And I believe that's why he pushed away friends, even some family members, because he didn't want others to witness his rapid degeneration. Many friends who attended the funeral wake expressed regret/anger that they didn't know the severity of his deteriorating condition, or that they came to know of it much too late. When some eventually did visit him, he was unresponsive and lost his will/ability to speak.
While we're sad he's left us, I choose to believe that he's in a better place. I bet he's enjoying his freedom now, exploring his new home, catching up with old friends, engaging in fiery debates with others over politics, playing golf, doing qigong/tai chi, enjoying his favourite dishes...and many other activities he loves.
Yesterday, as part of the "Ji Ling" ritual, we visited Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Monastery, the Columbarium where we placed Dad's remains. Knowing Dad, he's definitely appreciating the clean, green sprawling lands (about the size of 10 football fields) and unique architecture of Chinese and Southeast Asian influence.
We're all convinced this is undeniably the best final resting place for him. Have a great afterlife Dad!
We're still coming to terms with the emptiness but we plod on with our daily routine and busy ourselves so that we won't have time to notice his absence.
My aunts (his younger sisters) and two of my daughters (Xian and Wei) have dreamt of him. In their dreams, he's smiling, cheerful, feasting on his favourite foods, waving from the car, horseback riding etc. I haven't dreamt of Dad at all, but I do have dreams related to him even though he's not appeared in them. So yes, he's still in our hearts and minds.
I can't (and don't want to) retain images of him in his last few months when he was so severely weakened by treatments that his memory, mobility and speech were affected. I hated to see my father wither away, fighting a futile duel with Death, a battle no mortal has ever won.
No, I'm sure that's not how he wants us to remember him. And I believe that's why he pushed away friends, even some family members, because he didn't want others to witness his rapid degeneration. Many friends who attended the funeral wake expressed regret/anger that they didn't know the severity of his deteriorating condition, or that they came to know of it much too late. When some eventually did visit him, he was unresponsive and lost his will/ability to speak.
While we're sad he's left us, I choose to believe that he's in a better place. I bet he's enjoying his freedom now, exploring his new home, catching up with old friends, engaging in fiery debates with others over politics, playing golf, doing qigong/tai chi, enjoying his favourite dishes...and many other activities he loves.
Yesterday, as part of the "Ji Ling" ritual, we visited Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Monastery, the Columbarium where we placed Dad's remains. Knowing Dad, he's definitely appreciating the clean, green sprawling lands (about the size of 10 football fields) and unique architecture of Chinese and Southeast Asian influence.
We're all convinced this is undeniably the best final resting place for him. Have a great afterlife Dad!
 |
| Pagoda of 10,000 Buddhas |
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Rest In Peace Dad
It's over. The months of suffering and excruciating pain. The overdose on chemical cocktails that ravaged a once hale and healthy gentleman who used to look 10 years younger than he actually was.
But I'm glad he made peace with himself and when we parted ways this morning, he was calm and collected, and I couldn't have wished for a more dignified way for him to leave this earth.
I never revealed much about Dad's illness because I promised Mum I wouldn't breathe a word. But now that he's no longer with us, I've nothing to hide.
Dad was diagnosed with brain cancer 7 months ago. But what really did him in was the after-effects of radiation and chemotherapy that wrecked him physically, mentally and emotionally and left him frail and feeble. It wasn't the cancer that killed him - it was his weakened immunity system that crumbled and left him with severe pneumonia.
Ever the gallant warrior, Dad put up a tough fight. It was always a losing battle, but he soldiered on until his last breath. And then we encouraged him to follow the light. Which, we strongly believe, was what he did.
In the last few hours, Dad was surrounded by loved ones. I promised him that we would accompany him in his final journey. I kept my word and watched him take his final breath.
He's in a much better place now. We will miss him dearly but we have to learn to let go. It's time to let him go even though we can't bear to do so. And that's the heart wrenching part.
We'll see you again Dad. The next time we meet, you'll be back on your feet, tucking in to your favourite Indian Rojak, Biryani, Dosa, spicy curries, red bean soup, peanut candy, satay and other sedap dishes! And chiding me for not following your advice about taking up Qi-gong and golf.
Thank you for your sound advice and (sometimes blind) faith in me. You may not have always agreed with my actions, and you never fail to tell me exactly how you feel about these (terrible) decisions, but you have been ever-so-supportive. Will miss you so so very much.
But I'm glad he made peace with himself and when we parted ways this morning, he was calm and collected, and I couldn't have wished for a more dignified way for him to leave this earth.
I never revealed much about Dad's illness because I promised Mum I wouldn't breathe a word. But now that he's no longer with us, I've nothing to hide.
Dad was diagnosed with brain cancer 7 months ago. But what really did him in was the after-effects of radiation and chemotherapy that wrecked him physically, mentally and emotionally and left him frail and feeble. It wasn't the cancer that killed him - it was his weakened immunity system that crumbled and left him with severe pneumonia.
Ever the gallant warrior, Dad put up a tough fight. It was always a losing battle, but he soldiered on until his last breath. And then we encouraged him to follow the light. Which, we strongly believe, was what he did.
In the last few hours, Dad was surrounded by loved ones. I promised him that we would accompany him in his final journey. I kept my word and watched him take his final breath.
He's in a much better place now. We will miss him dearly but we have to learn to let go. It's time to let him go even though we can't bear to do so. And that's the heart wrenching part.
We'll see you again Dad. The next time we meet, you'll be back on your feet, tucking in to your favourite Indian Rojak, Biryani, Dosa, spicy curries, red bean soup, peanut candy, satay and other sedap dishes! And chiding me for not following your advice about taking up Qi-gong and golf.
Thank you for your sound advice and (sometimes blind) faith in me. You may not have always agreed with my actions, and you never fail to tell me exactly how you feel about these (terrible) decisions, but you have been ever-so-supportive. Will miss you so so very much.
 |
| Teo Cher Aik, Richard 15 July 1942 - 15 March 2016 |
Monday, May 11, 2015
Mothers' Day 2015: My Thoughts
Chanced upon this little article and it got me thinking:
http://theweek.com/speedreads/453562/according-founder-all-celebrating-mothers-day-wrong
Yesterday was Mothers' Day. I told my girls in advance not to waste any money buying me little gifts like pretty beaded trinkets (which will inevitably collect dust because I won't wear them). And the only thing out-of-the ordinary over the weekend was to have dinner with my parents-in-law and my own parents together at a nondescript corner coffee-shop "zichar" stall in a quiet neighbourhood. Our simple version of Mother's Day "celebration".
But I welcome the handmade cards and heartfelt messages on them which, unfortunately, I haven't got the chance to read yet. Oh, I will do so when I can sit down quietly and savour every single word that my girls have written. I don't want to rush through and lose the special moment when the words deliver their impact.
These days, I'm flat-out of energy after 8-9 hours at my (secondary) day job and bracing myself for the remaining waking hours on my (primary) night job as Mum. And now, with Fourthborn (she who doesn't sleep and fights to take naps) thrown into the equation, I find myself being pulled apart in so many different directions I don't even know where to start.
#4is4toomany
Yes, I've said it so many times. I've definitely bitten off way more than I can chew. Not that I have a choice now. My girls are here to stay. But of course. I wouldn't want to have it any other way.
Honestly. How do other working mothers do it?
The obvious answer lies in careful scheduling to juggle my responsibilities. No sweat, right? It's just finding that sweet spot in the whole work-life-balance scheme that I haven't quite figured out yet.
HA.
I have stayed silent on this topic for far too long.
Lately I've been thinking about slowing down work. Perhaps it would have been a much clearer and easier decision if I hate what I'm doing but the awful truth is this: I LOVE MY JOB. So it's really quite a struggle for me because I truly want to be there for my own children. Yet I cherish my work identity and am not just about ready to trade that to be a full-time SAHM. Or opting for a part-time work arrangement.
At some point in my life, however, I would need to evaluate my options and stop being selfish. Sacrifices need to be made - it's just a matter of what I should give up.
For many of my peers who've readily traded Louboutins and Jimmy Choos for Birkenstocks and Havaianas, I salute you.
You've given up lustrous careers and economic independence in exchange for head chef / chauffeur / master teacher duties so that you can quality time spent with your lovely young' uns. You've evolved to become domestic goddesses and master craftswomen, super-duper mummies who run the household with great aplomb.
Just how do you all do it?
You tell me it wasn't easy at the start. And there were sleepless nights and trying moments when you wondered if things would work. You assured me that things will fall in place, eventually. And I would get used to the routines.
But how the hell do you do it?
Do I not love my children adequately? Is that why I'm emotionally torn? Because I'm starting to question if I love my job more than my kids. Or that my family is taking a backseat because I enjoy being in control of my own responsibilities at work knowing that in the home-front, I'm obviously not the one calling the shots? And do I really want to manage the household even if the power to do so is transferred to me?
I'm 41 this year and by now I know who I am and what I want.
And what I don't want.
http://theweek.com/speedreads/453562/according-founder-all-celebrating-mothers-day-wrong
Yesterday was Mothers' Day. I told my girls in advance not to waste any money buying me little gifts like pretty beaded trinkets (which will inevitably collect dust because I won't wear them). And the only thing out-of-the ordinary over the weekend was to have dinner with my parents-in-law and my own parents together at a nondescript corner coffee-shop "zichar" stall in a quiet neighbourhood. Our simple version of Mother's Day "celebration".
But I welcome the handmade cards and heartfelt messages on them which, unfortunately, I haven't got the chance to read yet. Oh, I will do so when I can sit down quietly and savour every single word that my girls have written. I don't want to rush through and lose the special moment when the words deliver their impact.
These days, I'm flat-out of energy after 8-9 hours at my (secondary) day job and bracing myself for the remaining waking hours on my (primary) night job as Mum. And now, with Fourthborn (she who doesn't sleep and fights to take naps) thrown into the equation, I find myself being pulled apart in so many different directions I don't even know where to start.
#4is4toomany
Yes, I've said it so many times. I've definitely bitten off way more than I can chew. Not that I have a choice now. My girls are here to stay. But of course. I wouldn't want to have it any other way.
Honestly. How do other working mothers do it?
The obvious answer lies in careful scheduling to juggle my responsibilities. No sweat, right? It's just finding that sweet spot in the whole work-life-balance scheme that I haven't quite figured out yet.
HA.
I have stayed silent on this topic for far too long.
Lately I've been thinking about slowing down work. Perhaps it would have been a much clearer and easier decision if I hate what I'm doing but the awful truth is this: I LOVE MY JOB. So it's really quite a struggle for me because I truly want to be there for my own children. Yet I cherish my work identity and am not just about ready to trade that to be a full-time SAHM. Or opting for a part-time work arrangement.
At some point in my life, however, I would need to evaluate my options and stop being selfish. Sacrifices need to be made - it's just a matter of what I should give up.
For many of my peers who've readily traded Louboutins and Jimmy Choos for Birkenstocks and Havaianas, I salute you.
You've given up lustrous careers and economic independence in exchange for head chef / chauffeur / master teacher duties so that you can quality time spent with your lovely young' uns. You've evolved to become domestic goddesses and master craftswomen, super-duper mummies who run the household with great aplomb.
Just how do you all do it?
You tell me it wasn't easy at the start. And there were sleepless nights and trying moments when you wondered if things would work. You assured me that things will fall in place, eventually. And I would get used to the routines.
But how the hell do you do it?
Do I not love my children adequately? Is that why I'm emotionally torn? Because I'm starting to question if I love my job more than my kids. Or that my family is taking a backseat because I enjoy being in control of my own responsibilities at work knowing that in the home-front, I'm obviously not the one calling the shots? And do I really want to manage the household even if the power to do so is transferred to me?
I'm 41 this year and by now I know who I am and what I want.
And what I don't want.
- I hate housework. I'm a lousy cleaner and I'm too much of a slob to keep my home clean and tidy. I can't sweep, mop, dust to save my soul.
- I hate cooking. Just the mere thought of preparing meals for the family stresses me senseless. If I have to spend time in the kitchen, it's out of necessity. I find no joy in marinating, slicing, dicing, stewing, frying, sautéing, grilling etc.
- I hate checking my children's homework. Yes, I *know* I'm suppose to but I think it's just giving them a license to blame me if I don't remind them to do their work, bring things to school etc. As a parent, I'm supposed to tell them what to do right? And if they make a mistake in their work I'm suppose to identify that and ask them to do corrections? No, I tell them flatly that they're responsible for their own learning and if they forget something, they bear the consequences.
- I hate "teaching" and "studying" for my children. No, I simply can't do it. I lose my temper far too quickly when they can't get the concepts right and again I don't really know how best to help them "revise" their work without wringing my own neck. And theirs.
There, I've got it out. By my own admission, I've just outlined the main reasons why I can't bear to give up my day job to be a SAHM. I'm being frightfully open.
But does that make me a horrible mother? Some think so. They accuse me of being an irresponsible and lazy parent who pays others to do the job (e.g. tuition teachers) and that I don't care enough to ensure my kids are disciplined and diligent. In their eyes, I'm selfish because I'm not willing to make that big sacrifice.
Oh, yes, and that I spend too much money sending the girls for their dance classes (Xian, Wen & Wei), swimming lessons (Wen & Wei), art classes (Wen) and table-tennis coaching (Xian). I should cut down on these activities so that they will enough time to do their homework, study and do well in examinations.
What a terrible role model for my daughters.
Sigh. Old arguments that cause friction and unhappiness, eroding dangerously fragile relationships.
I can never do what my MIL does. She's an amazing example of the self-sacrificing SAHM who cooks, cleans, sews and runs the household with such mastery and clinical efficiency I hang my head in defeat. In other words, she's everything I'm not.
And since she lives with us, I'm reminded everyday of my inadequacy and faults. She's the reason why my fortunate girls enjoy sumptuous meals coupled with nutritious soups. And when they fall ill, I can be rest assured she's there to nurse them back to health with the right tonic soups and dishes.
During dinnertime, she will ensure that there's a dish for every member of the family. She knows our individual preferences and caters to our taste buds. Our refrigerator is stocked with food so we will never go hungry. She bakes cakes, pineapple tarts and other CNY goodies. She sews patchwork blankets, clothes, car mats etc.
How in the world can I top that?
I don't think my girls expect me to be like their paternal grandmother. They know full well I'm not docile and domesticated. And she's plugged the gaps of my missing Mummy-DNA so the girls don't "miss out".
Perhaps I'm not "born" to be a mother. I certainly don't possess certain "compulsory" traits to qualify me automatically for a SAHM post. That's equivalent to the CFO, COO and maybe even the CEO of an MNC. Hardly an easy job, and that's why I regard SAHMs with such high esteem.
So what's my definition of being a "good" mother?
One who's there for my kids - to support them emotionally, to encourage them when they're disheartened, to listen when they talk, to hold their hands in the dark till they can flip the switch, and then let go when their paths are lit.
To accept that they're searching for their own identities and will meet with failure along the way. And when they do fall or bump themselves, help them to stand up on their own two feet instead of carrying them for the rest of their journey.
Sounds idealistic, warm and oh-so-fuzzy? I suppose so. I've always been an emotional creature and to me, those are infinitely more important that providing monetary benefits and comforts. For me, the home is where the heart is.
I'm not the Perfect Mother and no matter what I do, I will never be perfect in everyone's eyes.
I just need to pass my children's test. They are the ones whose opinions matter.
I'd give myself a 4.5/10 for being a mum. It's still work-in-progress and I've had highs and many lows in this tumultuous journey. Maybe in 10 years' time, I will look back and chuckle at my frivolity and silliness, and how I'd wasted a full day ranting over nothing.
But does that make me a horrible mother? Some think so. They accuse me of being an irresponsible and lazy parent who pays others to do the job (e.g. tuition teachers) and that I don't care enough to ensure my kids are disciplined and diligent. In their eyes, I'm selfish because I'm not willing to make that big sacrifice.
Oh, yes, and that I spend too much money sending the girls for their dance classes (Xian, Wen & Wei), swimming lessons (Wen & Wei), art classes (Wen) and table-tennis coaching (Xian). I should cut down on these activities so that they will enough time to do their homework, study and do well in examinations.
What a terrible role model for my daughters.
Sigh. Old arguments that cause friction and unhappiness, eroding dangerously fragile relationships.
I can never do what my MIL does. She's an amazing example of the self-sacrificing SAHM who cooks, cleans, sews and runs the household with such mastery and clinical efficiency I hang my head in defeat. In other words, she's everything I'm not.
And since she lives with us, I'm reminded everyday of my inadequacy and faults. She's the reason why my fortunate girls enjoy sumptuous meals coupled with nutritious soups. And when they fall ill, I can be rest assured she's there to nurse them back to health with the right tonic soups and dishes.
During dinnertime, she will ensure that there's a dish for every member of the family. She knows our individual preferences and caters to our taste buds. Our refrigerator is stocked with food so we will never go hungry. She bakes cakes, pineapple tarts and other CNY goodies. She sews patchwork blankets, clothes, car mats etc.
How in the world can I top that?
I don't think my girls expect me to be like their paternal grandmother. They know full well I'm not docile and domesticated. And she's plugged the gaps of my missing Mummy-DNA so the girls don't "miss out".
Perhaps I'm not "born" to be a mother. I certainly don't possess certain "compulsory" traits to qualify me automatically for a SAHM post. That's equivalent to the CFO, COO and maybe even the CEO of an MNC. Hardly an easy job, and that's why I regard SAHMs with such high esteem.
So what's my definition of being a "good" mother?
One who's there for my kids - to support them emotionally, to encourage them when they're disheartened, to listen when they talk, to hold their hands in the dark till they can flip the switch, and then let go when their paths are lit.
To accept that they're searching for their own identities and will meet with failure along the way. And when they do fall or bump themselves, help them to stand up on their own two feet instead of carrying them for the rest of their journey.
Sounds idealistic, warm and oh-so-fuzzy? I suppose so. I've always been an emotional creature and to me, those are infinitely more important that providing monetary benefits and comforts. For me, the home is where the heart is.
I'm not the Perfect Mother and no matter what I do, I will never be perfect in everyone's eyes.
I just need to pass my children's test. They are the ones whose opinions matter.
I'd give myself a 4.5/10 for being a mum. It's still work-in-progress and I've had highs and many lows in this tumultuous journey. Maybe in 10 years' time, I will look back and chuckle at my frivolity and silliness, and how I'd wasted a full day ranting over nothing.
Maybe.
But for now, these issues are raw and unnerving, clawing at my conscience and keeping my head spinning, searching for clues to solve my issues.
Ask me in 10 years and hopefully I'd have made peace with my heart.
Monday, May 04, 2015
Qi's Little Steps
My fourthborn has hit one of the biggest milestones in her life – she can now walk!
For every parent, a child’s first steps are the most anticipated and momentous developmental process. Why? Perhaps it’s because walking signals the start of independence – a child’s ability to rely on his own feet, charting his own direction and taking control of his path.
I can’t pinpoint the exact dates my girls started to walk unaided and it’s a pity I didn’t think of documenting those special moments. Regrettably, I was too overconfident of remembering the details (and now my aging brain has failed me) though I can roughly recall the months they started to take those wobbly first steps: Xian (14 months), Wen (15 months), Wei (12 months) and now Qi (13 months).
With Qi, I managed to capture her attempts on the iPad – she walked about 5 steps, without assistance, on 4 April 2015. Exactly 13 months after she appeared in our lives. Weeks before, she’d showed signs that she was all ready and raring to go, taking 1 or 2 steps before faltering and getting up to try again. She’s quite the determined, cheeky, agile little monkey despite her tiny frame (she’s only in the 25th percentile for her weight and almost 50th percentile for her height) and we weren’t surprised she was cruising rather quickly.
Two Saturdays ago, we took the kids to the airport with the sole purpose of letting Qi “practise” her walking. The wide open spaces (usually the viewing gallery) are perfect for toddlers who need the “runway”. That’s where her older sisters headed to almost every other weekend while they were learning how to walk and run too. We selected a quiet, isolated spot at T3 and let loose our delighted fourthborn who was giggling and squealing with delight as she spirited up and down the alley.
Here's proof of our exuberant toddler strutting her stuff, with her watchful "bodyguards" hovering by her side:
Here's proof of our exuberant toddler strutting her stuff, with her watchful "bodyguards" hovering by her side:
And now, two weeks later, she's steadily dashing about wildly. And we're exhausted scrambling after her.
How fast the kids grow.
How I miss the baby days. ;'(
Monday, September 29, 2014
When colours matter
It may seem like a frivolous matter totally unworthy of a blog entry but trust me when I say that the colours I pick will spark of a war. Literally.
You see, whenever I get a pedicure, my girls openly squabble over which colour I should choose - usually their favourite colours. Xian roots for purple, Wei chants "GREEN! GREEN! GREEN!" while Wen (who has decidedly outgrown pink) suggests blue, silver and turquoise.
Over the years I've tried out a variety of colours and usually settle for something "safe" i.e. shades of reds, purples, corals, nudes and browns. So last Monday I decided to take a gamble and picked a greenish shade.
The minute the colour was applied on my big toe, I regretted it. Instantly.
I could still change my mind there and then, but I decided to stick with it even though it looked arghfully bleh.
Why?
Because green is Wei's favourite colour and I felt that I "owed" her. And choosing green to "beautify" my twinkle toes was a way of "making it up" to her.
Admittedly, I've been pretty mean to my 6-year-old. Qi has "usurped" Wei's position as baby of the household and Wei's not been reacting well to the situation. While she loves her baby sister to bits, it's obvious that she's still trying to come to terms with how the dynamics of the family has changed. She "acts up" and does things to irritate everyone, just to get our attention.
For example, Wei will jump on the bed while Qi is peacefully lying down. The sudden jolts would shock Qi and she'd cry. That would get us mad and we'd yell at Wei for disturbing her baby sister. Or she'd holler, yell and laugh on purpose when the baby's sleeping. Once, Wei even pinched Qi's cheeks and the baby screamed her lungs out.
I try to control my temper whenever these incidents happen but with less than 6 hours of sleep (interrupted, no less) each day, you can well imagine how grumpy this weary fat cat is. And before I can pinch myself, this provoked tigress roars. No holds barred.
Being the thick-skinned and equally thick-headed child that she is, Wei would usually just shrug her shoulders and stomp off only to return 3 minutes later to either repeat her actions or try a different strategy to get some reaction from me.
It's already exhausting enough to second guess what the baby's trying to communicate. I really don't wish to deal with another kid's insecurities. But I know Wei needs to be reassured that she's still my little ragamuffin and I love her loads despite her constant attempts to push my buttons.
When she caught sight of the colour, she proudly announced to her sisters "Che Che! Mummy painted green you know! GREEN leh!"
Wen the silent observer made sure Wei was out of sight (and ear shot) before she commented, "You chose this to make Wei happy right, Mummy?"
"How did you know?" I asked.
Wen smiled and replied, "Because you don't like green, what! You're just doing this for her. Am I right Mummy?"
Sharp and intuitive, my secondborn. That one keeps her thoughts to herself most of the time but when she does attempt to communicate, she usually surprises me with her sensitivity and maturity.
So here I am with a coat of emerald polish on my toes. It's been exactly a week and I've grown accustomed to the green tips peaking from my slippers. I'll let them grow out and make another trip to the manicurist in a few weeks' time.
Best part? Wei's cut down on her crazy antics these past few days. She's still creating havoc, of course. That's never going to change and we certainly don't expect her to.
Isn't it amazing what a little colour can do?
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
Baby Dearest
Ok, I may sound like a soundtrack stuck on repeat mode and I'm pretty certain I've mentioned it before but heck, I'll say it again: Motherhood's an incredible experience.
After a break of 6 years, I've *almost* forgotten what it's like caring for a newborn. (I'd to unlock my memory bank and sieve through archives to retrieve the data.) But like a plug-and-play device, I was up-and-running, and settled into auto-pilot mode within the first month.
*SIGH*
Note to self: I need to work on my anger management skills. Harsh words uttered in a fit of anger can't be retracted.
Anyway, I penned this simple poem while everyone was out, leaving both Qi and me alone to enjoy each other's company. Conversation was one-way, although she occasionally grunted, snorted, gurgled, cried and cooed in response.
And then she flashed this wide, heartfelt grin:
In one fell swoop, every ounce of negative energy drained from my pores. Those sleepless nights, the crazy feeding fights, dirty diaper wars and wailing matches were all worth the while.
And all it took was one toothless smile.
Qi, this one's for you.
Baby Dearest
I forgive you when you're super cranky
Screaming down the house
I forgive you being a fussy eater
Regurgitating milk on my blouse
I forgive you for restricting my diet
Making me constantly check your poo
I forgive you for my blood-shot panda eyes
Waking me every other hour or two
I forgive you when you refuse to sleep
Insisting on being rocked and cuddled by me
I forgive you for keeping me up in the wee hours
Cooing and gurgling till three
I forgive you when you're demanding and loud
Fighting with your sisters for my exclusive attention
I forgive you for every frustration you cause
Knowing it isn't at all deliberate
I forgive you for every little thing my child
Being mum to you, darling girl, is a welcomed fate
Teo Yuan Ching
4 May 2014
Copyright © 2014 Teo Yuan Ching
After a break of 6 years, I've *almost* forgotten what it's like caring for a newborn. (I'd to unlock my memory bank and sieve through archives to retrieve the data.) But like a plug-and-play device, I was up-and-running, and settled into auto-pilot mode within the first month.
Qi is now 8 weeks old and I'll be heading back to work in a month's time. Mixed feelings all round because much as I love my kids, staying home with them full time drives me hair-pulling bonkers. Furthermore, giving up my job will financially cripple us - not that I make tonnes of money as a polytechnic lecturer but feeding a big family doesn't come cheap and every extra bit helps.
While I may not have the luxury of updating my blog on a regular basis, I do try to capture significant moments of my life so that I won't forget them in time to come. Qi has been difficult in the last few weeks, possibly because she's mastered the art of manipulation and skillfully executes her well-planned manoeuvres to get what she wants. No longer the calm, sleeping newborn who was so easy to care for in the early days.
While I may not have the luxury of updating my blog on a regular basis, I do try to capture significant moments of my life so that I won't forget them in time to come. Qi has been difficult in the last few weeks, possibly because she's mastered the art of manipulation and skillfully executes her well-planned manoeuvres to get what she wants. No longer the calm, sleeping newborn who was so easy to care for in the early days.
We've had a fair share of rotten days when she'd yell her lungs out and nothing seemed to pacify her. I'd get frustrated in return and lash out at the older ones (usually Wei) who often fuel my rage by procrastinating, lazing around, squabbling with each other and getting on my nerves with their nonchalant ways and general misbehaviour. Not forgetting the well-meaning advice dispensed which I do appreciate but not necessarily always want to act on because I have differing views. And then everyone becomes unhappy and I berate myself for upsetting the balance in our family.
*SIGH*
Note to self: I need to work on my anger management skills. Harsh words uttered in a fit of anger can't be retracted.
Anyway, I penned this simple poem while everyone was out, leaving both Qi and me alone to enjoy each other's company. Conversation was one-way, although she occasionally grunted, snorted, gurgled, cried and cooed in response.
And then she flashed this wide, heartfelt grin:
In one fell swoop, every ounce of negative energy drained from my pores. Those sleepless nights, the crazy feeding fights, dirty diaper wars and wailing matches were all worth the while.
And all it took was one toothless smile.
Qi, this one's for you.
Baby Dearest
I forgive you when you're super cranky
Screaming down the house
I forgive you being a fussy eater
Regurgitating milk on my blouse
I forgive you for restricting my diet
Making me constantly check your poo
I forgive you for my blood-shot panda eyes
Waking me every other hour or two
I forgive you when you refuse to sleep
Insisting on being rocked and cuddled by me
I forgive you for keeping me up in the wee hours
Cooing and gurgling till three
I forgive you even when you cry for no reason
Understanding you've limited means of communicationI forgive you when you're demanding and loud
Fighting with your sisters for my exclusive attention
I forgive you for every frustration you cause
Knowing it isn't at all deliberate
I forgive you for every little thing my child
Being mum to you, darling girl, is a welcomed fate
Teo Yuan Ching
4 May 2014
Copyright © 2014 Teo Yuan Ching
Monday, April 21, 2014
Me = Not You
Postnatal blues? Perhaps. Then again, maybe not.
Me = Not You
I am not You
And don't aspire to be
So please respect my decision
And let Me be Me
Don't crucify Me
For my every imperfection
I'll gladly ignore Yours
If You check Your own reflection
I am not You
I have my right to be Me
So please step back
And let Me be Me
Teo Yuan Ching
21 April 2014
Copyright © 2014 Teo Yuan Ching
Me = Not You
I am not You
And don't aspire to be
So please respect my decision
And let Me be Me
Don't crucify Me
For my every imperfection
I'll gladly ignore Yours
If You check Your own reflection
I am not You
I have my right to be Me
So please step back
And let Me be Me
Teo Yuan Ching
21 April 2014
Copyright © 2014 Teo Yuan Ching
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Presenting Number 4
Sorry, I'm two weeks too late in announcing this.
But I guess it's obvious by now that my little tenant has been evicted.
You'll have to excuse me for this belated announcement. As all mums of newborns know, the younglings don't understand the concept of time.
Or personal space.
Or that their life-givers need to take regular breaks and rest (I'm not even talking about sleep).
The little ones only know that when they're hungry, they want to be fed IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're squirmy because they're soaked in a dirty diaper and want to be cleaned up IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're too warm/cold and want the temperature to be adjusted IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're fussy and demand for some tender, loving cuddles IMMEDIATELY.
Newborns appear to be angelic and innocent, but they're the ones in total control: the grown-ups run helter-skelter, trying to decipher every cry and whimper, second-guessing what the babies want/need. Depending on which school of thought you might be accustomed to, some adults jump up and attend to the baby's every audible squeak while others believe discipline and training begins the very day the child is born.
But I digress. There are just too many thoughts running through my head right now and I really don't have the luxury of time to sit down and organise them properly because the baby is asleep now and this is my chance to ramble...
So. Exactly two weeks ago, on 4 March 2014, I delivered my fourth (and final) child.
I'd just visited Dr Lim's the day before and I was only 1cm dilated even though the baby's head was engaged i.e. ready to pop. She also highlighted that the little tenant was facing the wrong direction and may take a while before she moves to the right position. Since the tenant's estimated day of arrival was 7 March, Dr Lim said that if I didn't show any signs of labour by 6 March, I'd have to be admitted and she'd have to induce the birth.
I decided that a little "walking" would do some good so after my visit to Dr Lim's, I persuaded the hub to drive me to Plaza Singapura for a nice spot of Japanese food and some last minute shopping. As he was busy rushing projects, the hub ordered takeaways for himself and his staff while I sat at our favourite haunt, Kai Sushi & Grill, and enjoyed my stir-fried beef set. I spent the next 2 hours waddling around, stopping to buy a few new pieces of clothing for the tenant. I'd given away almost all of the girls' baby clothes so it was really back to basics.
It was about 3-ish when I realised lugging the additional 14kg was exhausting. Didn't help that I was plagued by sciatica midway through my pregnancy and prolonged movements were excruciating. I boarded the train along the North-East line and thankfully was able to get a seat (it was off-peak period).
I suppose all that extra walking in the mall did the trick. The contractions began close to midnight and initially I struggled to catch some winks because I thought they were false alarms. However, by 2 plus in the wee hours, the contractions gained intensity and I started timing them: 5 minutes apart. Reluctantly, I woke the snoring hub and got my hospital bag ready.
We reached Mt. Alvernia Hospital at about 3.30am, did the necessary administrative procedures, entered the delivery suite and then we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The contractions were strong and regular. But my cervix wasn't quite "ripe" and after 6 hours, I was barely 3am dilated. GAH!
Dr Lim strolled in at about 9 plus, checked me and broke my waters to hasten the birthing process. I was also put on the oxytocin drip to induce labour. The nurses were convinced that I'd be done by noon, since it was my fourth time. And my contractions were on track.
I'd (foolishly) opted for natural, non-epidural delivery again, much to the surprise of the nurses who exclaimed that I was one of the few women these days to do so. I figured that since I'd experienced childbirth without epidural thrice and survived, I might as well go for it again. Plus, I was concerned that I wouldn't know how to push if I couldn't feel anything below my waist. As far as possible, I wanted to avoid an emergency C-section.
I was getting impatient by 11am. This was by far the longest I'd ever been in a delivery ward as my previous three were relatively quick (less than 4 hours). By then, the contractions were beginning to slip into the "unbearable" state. Actually I was hoping to do without any other pain killers but the nurse saw my readings and suggested that I use entonox (gas and air) as I has done so previously. She explained that my body could be reacting to the pain and this could be counterproductive. I took her advice and she also gave me a pethidine jab which helped me to relax.
Within half an hour, the waves of contractions were merciless and even the entonox wasn't much of a help. That's when the hustle and bustle began as the nurses swarmed into action. I could feel the baby's head pushing down the birth canal even before Dr Lim's arrival. Of course, my OB/GYN is very experienced and she calmly walked in just in time for the delivery.
Even in my throes of anguish, I could make out the conversations around me and heard Dr Lim announcing merrily to everyone, "This one's an experienced mother. She knows how to push."
And then the birthing process began and all I could think about was: "Why the #$%^ did I not take the @#$%! epidural?!?!?" and "I can't believe I'm doing this AGAIN! !@#$%&!!!"
Actually, the scariest bit wasn't the pain/torture of childbirth. And I only found out MUCH later when the hub recounted (hours later, when I'd sufficiently rested) what happened in the delivery suite. Nobody was going to tell me anything there and then while I was desperately huffing and puffing away, totally focused on evicting the tenant.
As mentioned earlier, the baby was in the wrong position so during my first push, her head appeared and Dr Lim had to physically twist - YES, TWIST - the head (and presumably her body) to face upwards. When I pushed the second time, the tenant slithered out and that's when Dr Lim realised the umbilical cord wound around the baby's neck! Dr Lim then expertly manoeuvred the baby around and untangled the cord.
*&^%$#@!
Oh. My. Freaking. Gawd.
The horror stories of babies strangled by umbilical cords haunted me in nightmares. And I NEVER expected this could happen to me and my baby.
I'm extremely thankful and grateful for Dr Lim's skills and experience. Perhaps it's a common occurrence but our previous three didn't give us such a deathly scare so we were completely unprepared for such a heart-stopping incident.
Talk about making a dramatic entrance.
Anyway, it's time to present our latest Leonglet, my tenant no more:
Qi (that's her Chinese name) weighed 3.460kg and was 50cm in length. I was a little surprised because I'd expected her to be heavier than Wei.
And she's the only one among my babies who wasn't allowed to be discharged after two days because her jaundice levels were high. So yes, we extended out hospital stay for another two days and because Qi's on a fully breastmilk diet, I had to be with her. I refused the option of substituting with formula milk and figured it would be too stressful for me to pump out the milk (there isn't much in the first few days) and bring it to the hospital for her. Yeah, I'm stubborn that way.
After two weeks (and two visits to the pediatrician for review), Qi is still looking jaundiced. We've been diligently "exposing" her to a daily dose of vitamin D in the mornings for about half-an-hour and will continue to do so until she looks less yellowish. :{
The first week back home was tough for me because I was sleep deprived and stressed over Qi's jaundice. Her sisters were also overly excited and kept running into the room to "check" on the baby, and this irked me tremendously because I desperately needed the rest.
Being a mum to a newborn again after a hiatus of 6 years isn't ideal, especially when I'm pushing 40 and my attention span needs to be divided between all my kids. The only consolation is that the girls are old enough to help out with the baby - especially during diaper changing time. Wen's the expert in this area and she will systematically lay out the essentials on the bed: changing mat, diaper, wet wipes and diaper cream. Wei has become Qi's masseuse and enjoys applying baby lotion on her hands and legs. Xian, being the eldest and 12 years older than Qi, watches her while I eat/bathe/visit the loo etc.
Fortunately, things are getting better because I'm now accustomed to an-all-too-familiar routine - not too tough to get back into the swing of things after a while, really. It's only now that I realised how much I miss the days of caring for a newborn.
And I suppose I'd better enjoy it while it lasts because I'm pretty certain Qi will be my final baby.
But I guess it's obvious by now that my little tenant has been evicted.
You'll have to excuse me for this belated announcement. As all mums of newborns know, the younglings don't understand the concept of time.
Or personal space.
Or that their life-givers need to take regular breaks and rest (I'm not even talking about sleep).
The little ones only know that when they're hungry, they want to be fed IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're squirmy because they're soaked in a dirty diaper and want to be cleaned up IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're too warm/cold and want the temperature to be adjusted IMMEDIATELY.
Or they're fussy and demand for some tender, loving cuddles IMMEDIATELY.
Newborns appear to be angelic and innocent, but they're the ones in total control: the grown-ups run helter-skelter, trying to decipher every cry and whimper, second-guessing what the babies want/need. Depending on which school of thought you might be accustomed to, some adults jump up and attend to the baby's every audible squeak while others believe discipline and training begins the very day the child is born.
But I digress. There are just too many thoughts running through my head right now and I really don't have the luxury of time to sit down and organise them properly because the baby is asleep now and this is my chance to ramble...
So. Exactly two weeks ago, on 4 March 2014, I delivered my fourth (and final) child.
I'd just visited Dr Lim's the day before and I was only 1cm dilated even though the baby's head was engaged i.e. ready to pop. She also highlighted that the little tenant was facing the wrong direction and may take a while before she moves to the right position. Since the tenant's estimated day of arrival was 7 March, Dr Lim said that if I didn't show any signs of labour by 6 March, I'd have to be admitted and she'd have to induce the birth.
I decided that a little "walking" would do some good so after my visit to Dr Lim's, I persuaded the hub to drive me to Plaza Singapura for a nice spot of Japanese food and some last minute shopping. As he was busy rushing projects, the hub ordered takeaways for himself and his staff while I sat at our favourite haunt, Kai Sushi & Grill, and enjoyed my stir-fried beef set. I spent the next 2 hours waddling around, stopping to buy a few new pieces of clothing for the tenant. I'd given away almost all of the girls' baby clothes so it was really back to basics.
It was about 3-ish when I realised lugging the additional 14kg was exhausting. Didn't help that I was plagued by sciatica midway through my pregnancy and prolonged movements were excruciating. I boarded the train along the North-East line and thankfully was able to get a seat (it was off-peak period).
I suppose all that extra walking in the mall did the trick. The contractions began close to midnight and initially I struggled to catch some winks because I thought they were false alarms. However, by 2 plus in the wee hours, the contractions gained intensity and I started timing them: 5 minutes apart. Reluctantly, I woke the snoring hub and got my hospital bag ready.
We reached Mt. Alvernia Hospital at about 3.30am, did the necessary administrative procedures, entered the delivery suite and then we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The contractions were strong and regular. But my cervix wasn't quite "ripe" and after 6 hours, I was barely 3am dilated. GAH!
Dr Lim strolled in at about 9 plus, checked me and broke my waters to hasten the birthing process. I was also put on the oxytocin drip to induce labour. The nurses were convinced that I'd be done by noon, since it was my fourth time. And my contractions were on track.
I'd (foolishly) opted for natural, non-epidural delivery again, much to the surprise of the nurses who exclaimed that I was one of the few women these days to do so. I figured that since I'd experienced childbirth without epidural thrice and survived, I might as well go for it again. Plus, I was concerned that I wouldn't know how to push if I couldn't feel anything below my waist. As far as possible, I wanted to avoid an emergency C-section.
I was getting impatient by 11am. This was by far the longest I'd ever been in a delivery ward as my previous three were relatively quick (less than 4 hours). By then, the contractions were beginning to slip into the "unbearable" state. Actually I was hoping to do without any other pain killers but the nurse saw my readings and suggested that I use entonox (gas and air) as I has done so previously. She explained that my body could be reacting to the pain and this could be counterproductive. I took her advice and she also gave me a pethidine jab which helped me to relax.
Within half an hour, the waves of contractions were merciless and even the entonox wasn't much of a help. That's when the hustle and bustle began as the nurses swarmed into action. I could feel the baby's head pushing down the birth canal even before Dr Lim's arrival. Of course, my OB/GYN is very experienced and she calmly walked in just in time for the delivery.
Even in my throes of anguish, I could make out the conversations around me and heard Dr Lim announcing merrily to everyone, "This one's an experienced mother. She knows how to push."
And then the birthing process began and all I could think about was: "Why the #$%^ did I not take the @#$%! epidural?!?!?" and "I can't believe I'm doing this AGAIN! !@#$%&!!!"
Actually, the scariest bit wasn't the pain/torture of childbirth. And I only found out MUCH later when the hub recounted (hours later, when I'd sufficiently rested) what happened in the delivery suite. Nobody was going to tell me anything there and then while I was desperately huffing and puffing away, totally focused on evicting the tenant.
As mentioned earlier, the baby was in the wrong position so during my first push, her head appeared and Dr Lim had to physically twist - YES, TWIST - the head (and presumably her body) to face upwards. When I pushed the second time, the tenant slithered out and that's when Dr Lim realised the umbilical cord wound around the baby's neck! Dr Lim then expertly manoeuvred the baby around and untangled the cord.
*&^%$#@!
Oh. My. Freaking. Gawd.
The horror stories of babies strangled by umbilical cords haunted me in nightmares. And I NEVER expected this could happen to me and my baby.
I'm extremely thankful and grateful for Dr Lim's skills and experience. Perhaps it's a common occurrence but our previous three didn't give us such a deathly scare so we were completely unprepared for such a heart-stopping incident.
Talk about making a dramatic entrance.
Anyway, it's time to present our latest Leonglet, my tenant no more:
 |
| Hello. I am Number 4. |
 |
| My four beautiful Leonglets (from L to R): Wen, Qi, Xian and Wei |
After two weeks (and two visits to the pediatrician for review), Qi is still looking jaundiced. We've been diligently "exposing" her to a daily dose of vitamin D in the mornings for about half-an-hour and will continue to do so until she looks less yellowish. :{
 |
| "Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun...Please shine down on meeeee" |
Being a mum to a newborn again after a hiatus of 6 years isn't ideal, especially when I'm pushing 40 and my attention span needs to be divided between all my kids. The only consolation is that the girls are old enough to help out with the baby - especially during diaper changing time. Wen's the expert in this area and she will systematically lay out the essentials on the bed: changing mat, diaper, wet wipes and diaper cream. Wei has become Qi's masseuse and enjoys applying baby lotion on her hands and legs. Xian, being the eldest and 12 years older than Qi, watches her while I eat/bathe/visit the loo etc.
Fortunately, things are getting better because I'm now accustomed to an-all-too-familiar routine - not too tough to get back into the swing of things after a while, really. It's only now that I realised how much I miss the days of caring for a newborn.
And I suppose I'd better enjoy it while it lasts because I'm pretty certain Qi will be my final baby.
Saturday, March 01, 2014
March Baby like Daddy?
It's week 39 and Number 4's still snuggly and comfy in the womb.
I shouldn't be complaining, really. I was worried she might have been too eager to see the world and make her grand entrance when she turned 38 weeks.
On the work front, there's tonnes of administrative stuff I'd to finish before I take my maternity leave. Last week was super hectic as I was rushing to clear staff appraisals and my Film T&C paper exam only ended yesterday. Immediately after the paper was over, I scooped up the scripts and holed up in a small meeting room to mark my share of the pile. I managed to complete my portion and handed them over to my co-tutor who now has the unenviable task of taking over as Subject Leader (and tying up loose ends like processing the results and writing the examiner's report).
Plus Dr Lim was away and I *really* didn't want a random doctor delivering my kid.
Number 4's been really co-operative and understanding by staying put. But now that I'm done with what I set out to complete, I'm getting a little impatient. Part of me was hoping she'd choose to be out on the last day of February.
I reckon she wants to be a March babe. Like her father.
Ok, Number 4. Your tenancy is coming to an end and you'll be evicted by next Friday.
See you soon, baby!
I shouldn't be complaining, really. I was worried she might have been too eager to see the world and make her grand entrance when she turned 38 weeks.
On the work front, there's tonnes of administrative stuff I'd to finish before I take my maternity leave. Last week was super hectic as I was rushing to clear staff appraisals and my Film T&C paper exam only ended yesterday. Immediately after the paper was over, I scooped up the scripts and holed up in a small meeting room to mark my share of the pile. I managed to complete my portion and handed them over to my co-tutor who now has the unenviable task of taking over as Subject Leader (and tying up loose ends like processing the results and writing the examiner's report).
Plus Dr Lim was away and I *really* didn't want a random doctor delivering my kid.
Number 4's been really co-operative and understanding by staying put. But now that I'm done with what I set out to complete, I'm getting a little impatient. Part of me was hoping she'd choose to be out on the last day of February.
I reckon she wants to be a March babe. Like her father.
Ok, Number 4. Your tenancy is coming to an end and you'll be evicted by next Friday.
See you soon, baby!
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Last Minute Shopping
Just 3 weeks more to go!
I turned to the forums and auction sites to search for a pre-loved one. And managed to find a Maxi-Cosi CabrioFix for S$150. (New one's selling for about $380). The hub drove down on Monday afternoon to the seller's and texted me to say it's in pretty good condition, so he got it.
Our girls aren't bred on branded goods, extravagant holidays and gourmet cuisine. We hardly go to the malls except for the occasional treat to the movies. They're happy chasing after the dogs (and each other), cycling, walking the dogs and dancing around the house. So far they're not shackled to technological gadgets (they don't own mobile phones or devices) and have no access to the computer unless I'm home. And I plan to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Anyway, I'll be hitting 38 weeks in a few days and still trying to remember if there's anything else I missed out. I'm quite sure I've forgotten a few things. Just hope I'll still have the time to buy/get them before Number 4's arrival.
During the weekend a sense of urgency gripped me and I started to panic a little about Number 4's arrival.
I hadn't done much to prepare for her birth. Perhaps it's because I'm not particularly excited - she's going to be my 4th baby after all.
Then again, it's been 6 years since I'd to go through the entire cycle so I have to jiggle my brains a little to recall what's to be done.
On Sunday, I finally decided to raid the cupboards and storeroom to check if I could recycle some baby stuff. All the milk bottles had been discarded - I would have thrown them away too because the plastic would've turned icky yellow with age. Since I'll be breastfeeding exclusively, the bottles will come in handy only at a later stage when I head back to work (or when helpful caregivers try to sneak in "water feeds" while I'm showering).
So I trooped over to Happy Mom Happy Baby (which is conveniently next to our pet shop Woofy's Corner) and asked the ever-chirpy Jennifer for some help. I was a little overwhelmed by the range of products because the last time I scoured for baby stuff was 6 years back!
Anyway, with Jennifer's recommendation I bought a Dr. Brown's Natural Flow® standard bottle, two Medela milk storage bottles, a pack of Unimom breast pads and a pack of Huggies® Newborn Diapers.
Then it occurred to me that my trusty Medela Mini Electric pump (which served me dutifully since Xian's birth 12 years ago) may NOT be in working condition! Again, it seemed a waste to buy a new breast pump for over $200 since I don't intend to have any more kids after Number 4. So I got home, ransacked my drawers, pulled out the pump, assembled the parts, attached the funnel and switched on the electricity...
...and it STILL works! YAY!
To ensure it was REALLY working, I tried it out, just to check the suction power.
Yup, it's still able to urm, extract milk.
In any case, if I am desperate need to get a breast pump, Jennifer said I could rent one from her. Just the motor and pump, not the accessories of course, for personal hygiene reasons.
That very evening I started worrying about my Saturday routine of dropping the older girls at various enrichment centres/dance classes/swimming lessons. Who's going to mind Number 4 while I'm carrying out my chauffeur duties? The only was was to bring her along with me.
And that was when I realised we NEED an infant car seat!
I dusted off our Maxi-Cosi Priori toddler car seat (which again served us faithfully for years) but it wasn't suitable for newborns/infants. With the 3 older girls, I didn't drive and we didn't really bring them out regularly until they were about 6 months and they could sit upright in the car seat.
The hub and I were reluctant to splurge on a swanky, brand new infant car seat that would serve us for only a couple of months. As the car seat's going to be installed in my little hatchback Pollie, we had to get one that would fit at the back and still have room for Wen and Wei since Xian would probably be seated in front.
I turned to the forums and auction sites to search for a pre-loved one. And managed to find a Maxi-Cosi CabrioFix for S$150. (New one's selling for about $380). The hub drove down on Monday afternoon to the seller's and texted me to say it's in pretty good condition, so he got it.
And here it is:
 |
| Pimp my ride, yo! |
I know many people who shake their heads/cluck their tongues and slap us with a 'SCROOGE' tag for not giving "the best" to Number 4. Well, we aren't exactly rolling in riches and have had to watch our expenses in the last 2 years. The hub was taking a year-long break from work to sort out his career and he struck out on his own last year so admittedly we ARE counting our pennies.
And raising kids doesn't come cheap. If we have to scrimp and save to maintain a simple standard of living, I think it's worth the while. Isn't it more important for us to spend quality time with the kids?
And raising kids doesn't come cheap. If we have to scrimp and save to maintain a simple standard of living, I think it's worth the while. Isn't it more important for us to spend quality time with the kids?
Our girls aren't bred on branded goods, extravagant holidays and gourmet cuisine. We hardly go to the malls except for the occasional treat to the movies. They're happy chasing after the dogs (and each other), cycling, walking the dogs and dancing around the house. So far they're not shackled to technological gadgets (they don't own mobile phones or devices) and have no access to the computer unless I'm home. And I plan to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Anyway, I'll be hitting 38 weeks in a few days and still trying to remember if there's anything else I missed out. I'm quite sure I've forgotten a few things. Just hope I'll still have the time to buy/get them before Number 4's arrival.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Weighty Issues
Went for my check-up today and was surprised I gained only 0.8kg in the last two weeks. That extra weight's gone to Number 4 who's now approximately 2.85kg.
At 36 weeks, she's already heavier than Xian who weighed a mere 2.59kg at birth. Wen was 3.2kg and Wei was 3.5kg. Unless Number 4 decides to pop within the two weeks, she'll probably be a 3+kg newborn.
My mum's obsessed with the baby's weight (and mine) and her first question after every visit to the doctor is "What's the baby's weight now? How much do you weigh? How much weight did you put on?"
I understand why she's concerned. Xian was considered "small" and she was so fragile at birth I was worried about carrying her or changing her clothes after her bath because I didn't want to accidentally break her limbs. As a first-time mum then, every experience was new and I didn't have the confidence to handle such a delicate baby.
When Wen and Wei came along, they were considerably "bigger" and I realised it was easier to take care of "larger" babies. Perhaps I was more experienced by then and with Wei, I was the primary care-giver during my maternity leave as MIL had difficulty walking and wasn't able to stand/sit/bend for too long. Despite the traditional taboo that a new mum shouldn't touch water during confinement, I bathed and changed Wei myself because I didn't have extra help. I'm quite sure this would be the same arrangement for Number 4 too.
As for myself, I've packed on a total of 13.5kg so far and with about 3 weeks to go, I may gain another 2kg or so.
I'm bloated, clumsy and waddling awkwardly. Yeah, I can definitely relate to a walrus now. Colleagues comment that my belly's huge and keep asking me when I'm going to 'pop'. My reply's "Anytime now" because I really have no clue when Number 4 will decide to make her appearance. I sure hope she won't choose her birthday between 22 to 28 February as Dr Lim will be overseas then and in the worst case, she'll be delivered by another doctor. That was what happened to Xian who decided to arrive at 38 weeks, 2 days before Dr Lim came back from her holiday!
Alas, there's no way to predict these natural occurrences and we'd rather not induce her birth just to "choose" an auspicious date and "determine" her fate. I guess we'll just let her stay in there till she's ready to face the world.
See you soon in the next few days/weeks Number 4.
At 36 weeks, she's already heavier than Xian who weighed a mere 2.59kg at birth. Wen was 3.2kg and Wei was 3.5kg. Unless Number 4 decides to pop within the two weeks, she'll probably be a 3+kg newborn.
My mum's obsessed with the baby's weight (and mine) and her first question after every visit to the doctor is "What's the baby's weight now? How much do you weigh? How much weight did you put on?"
I understand why she's concerned. Xian was considered "small" and she was so fragile at birth I was worried about carrying her or changing her clothes after her bath because I didn't want to accidentally break her limbs. As a first-time mum then, every experience was new and I didn't have the confidence to handle such a delicate baby.
When Wen and Wei came along, they were considerably "bigger" and I realised it was easier to take care of "larger" babies. Perhaps I was more experienced by then and with Wei, I was the primary care-giver during my maternity leave as MIL had difficulty walking and wasn't able to stand/sit/bend for too long. Despite the traditional taboo that a new mum shouldn't touch water during confinement, I bathed and changed Wei myself because I didn't have extra help. I'm quite sure this would be the same arrangement for Number 4 too.
As for myself, I've packed on a total of 13.5kg so far and with about 3 weeks to go, I may gain another 2kg or so.
I'm bloated, clumsy and waddling awkwardly. Yeah, I can definitely relate to a walrus now. Colleagues comment that my belly's huge and keep asking me when I'm going to 'pop'. My reply's "Anytime now" because I really have no clue when Number 4 will decide to make her appearance. I sure hope she won't choose her birthday between 22 to 28 February as Dr Lim will be overseas then and in the worst case, she'll be delivered by another doctor. That was what happened to Xian who decided to arrive at 38 weeks, 2 days before Dr Lim came back from her holiday!
Alas, there's no way to predict these natural occurrences and we'd rather not induce her birth just to "choose" an auspicious date and "determine" her fate. I guess we'll just let her stay in there till she's ready to face the world.
See you soon in the next few days/weeks Number 4.
Sunday, February 09, 2014
36 Weeks
I have taken an extended break - almost a year off - from writing.
Have I been lazy? Yes. Absolutely. And these days, with Twitter, Instagram and Facebook so easily available, providing status updates, airing grievances and spewing random rantings have never been more convenient.
But I do miss constructing my thoughts and structuring them into the written form.
Here's an update of my life so far: The two older girls are in primary school and bombarded daily with tonnes of homework. Like most working mothers, I *try* to help them with their work even though I regrettably admit I am not disciplined enough to supervise them closely. Honestly, after a full day at the office, how many working mums have the energy to be all smiles and perky? More often than not, I lose my cool far too easily when careless mistakes are committed. I hate it when I morph into an unreasonable and impatient being, my crescendo shrills reverberating around the house.
It's a dreaded routine: the minute I'm back home, I ask them if they've completed their homework and if they haven't, they'll have to sit down next to me to finish up while I'm having dinner.
Xian's now in Primary Six and she's a little more disciplined than before, so she usually gets her homework done before I'm home. Only trouble is that she's unwilling to do any extra revision on her own as she believes finishing her school work is sufficient. This is a crucial year for her and at the rate she's progressing, it's going to take a miracle for her to pass reasonably well to get back to St. Nicholas. And I'm not even talking about getting 4As or distinctions since she's unlikely to even sniff a single A and passing is a problem.
Wen's moved on to Primary Three and she's still got the cool-as-cucumber, nonchalant attitude towards school. She's unfazed by terrible grades and won't bat an eyelid even if she fares badly on tests. She'll just shrug her shoulders and give me that "I've done what I could. What else do you want from me?" look. It's absolutely frustrating because she's capable of doing WAY better but she chooses to put in minimal effort and switches on the cruise control mode. Needless to say, her grades aren't reflective of her potential academic ability - and this is precisely what gets my goat.
Wei's in her last year of pre-school and she's the only one who doesn't require constant nagging to do her homework. She's naturally competitive and when she sees her sisters being chided for not completing school work, she's quick to "disassociate" herself by providing "evidence" of work done. While the other two baulk at the thought of doing extra work, Wei would volunteer to complete the assessment books and even asks me to buy more when she's done. Unfortunately, she is still unable to read despite going for phonics classes. I'm hoping she's not dyslexic like Xian who only managed to read independently after attending classes at the Dyslexia Association of Singapore (DAS).
And then there's Number 4.
Yes, that's right. There's another one who's yet to make her appearance.
Neither Bonus nor Lost survived the first trimester and that experience completely broke my heart in 2012. It took me several months to pick myself up and move on, even though the pain never really subsided. Naturally, when I conceived last year, I was worried about losing this one too. So I decided not to jinx my pregnancy and kept mum about it. Even my relatives were unaware I was pregnant until last week when I visited them during Chinese New Year. And when they saw me waddling in - huge bloated belly and all - their spontaneous reaction was priceless.
The first question on their lips?
"Boy or girl?" (Since I already have three daughters, they were rooting for a boy, of course.)
Most of them were disappointed when I revealed that I'd be saving tonnes of money on clothes and that Number 4 will be going to her sisters' school.
Granted, the hub and I were also hoping for a son. Not because we're gender bias or supremely traditional, but we wanted to experience what it would be like parenting a boy. Obviously fate has other plans for us. What we really hope for now is to be blessed with a normal, healthy baby child.
And no, we are NOT going to try for a boy. Four kids is already stretching our finances to the max. Plus I don't fancy going through this whole cycle again. There's a REAL difference when you're preggers in the 20s and 30s. I'm hitting 40 this year so my bio-clock is close to the expiry date.
I'm now 36 weeks into my fourth successful pregnancy. During my last check-up at the doc's, my little tenant weighed approximately 2.2kg and if she stays in there till full term, she's likely to tip the scales at 3kg and above. Here's a 3D scanned image of my Number 4 in utero:
And so the countdown begins. She's all snug and comfy in there but it's only a matter of weeks before she's booted out of my womb.
A new chapter awaits.
Have I been lazy? Yes. Absolutely. And these days, with Twitter, Instagram and Facebook so easily available, providing status updates, airing grievances and spewing random rantings have never been more convenient.
But I do miss constructing my thoughts and structuring them into the written form.
Here's an update of my life so far: The two older girls are in primary school and bombarded daily with tonnes of homework. Like most working mothers, I *try* to help them with their work even though I regrettably admit I am not disciplined enough to supervise them closely. Honestly, after a full day at the office, how many working mums have the energy to be all smiles and perky? More often than not, I lose my cool far too easily when careless mistakes are committed. I hate it when I morph into an unreasonable and impatient being, my crescendo shrills reverberating around the house.
It's a dreaded routine: the minute I'm back home, I ask them if they've completed their homework and if they haven't, they'll have to sit down next to me to finish up while I'm having dinner.
Xian's now in Primary Six and she's a little more disciplined than before, so she usually gets her homework done before I'm home. Only trouble is that she's unwilling to do any extra revision on her own as she believes finishing her school work is sufficient. This is a crucial year for her and at the rate she's progressing, it's going to take a miracle for her to pass reasonably well to get back to St. Nicholas. And I'm not even talking about getting 4As or distinctions since she's unlikely to even sniff a single A and passing is a problem.
Wen's moved on to Primary Three and she's still got the cool-as-cucumber, nonchalant attitude towards school. She's unfazed by terrible grades and won't bat an eyelid even if she fares badly on tests. She'll just shrug her shoulders and give me that "I've done what I could. What else do you want from me?" look. It's absolutely frustrating because she's capable of doing WAY better but she chooses to put in minimal effort and switches on the cruise control mode. Needless to say, her grades aren't reflective of her potential academic ability - and this is precisely what gets my goat.
Wei's in her last year of pre-school and she's the only one who doesn't require constant nagging to do her homework. She's naturally competitive and when she sees her sisters being chided for not completing school work, she's quick to "disassociate" herself by providing "evidence" of work done. While the other two baulk at the thought of doing extra work, Wei would volunteer to complete the assessment books and even asks me to buy more when she's done. Unfortunately, she is still unable to read despite going for phonics classes. I'm hoping she's not dyslexic like Xian who only managed to read independently after attending classes at the Dyslexia Association of Singapore (DAS).
And then there's Number 4.
Yes, that's right. There's another one who's yet to make her appearance.
Neither Bonus nor Lost survived the first trimester and that experience completely broke my heart in 2012. It took me several months to pick myself up and move on, even though the pain never really subsided. Naturally, when I conceived last year, I was worried about losing this one too. So I decided not to jinx my pregnancy and kept mum about it. Even my relatives were unaware I was pregnant until last week when I visited them during Chinese New Year. And when they saw me waddling in - huge bloated belly and all - their spontaneous reaction was priceless.
The first question on their lips?
"Boy or girl?" (Since I already have three daughters, they were rooting for a boy, of course.)
Most of them were disappointed when I revealed that I'd be saving tonnes of money on clothes and that Number 4 will be going to her sisters' school.
Granted, the hub and I were also hoping for a son. Not because we're gender bias or supremely traditional, but we wanted to experience what it would be like parenting a boy. Obviously fate has other plans for us. What we really hope for now is to be blessed with a normal, healthy baby child.
And no, we are NOT going to try for a boy. Four kids is already stretching our finances to the max. Plus I don't fancy going through this whole cycle again. There's a REAL difference when you're preggers in the 20s and 30s. I'm hitting 40 this year so my bio-clock is close to the expiry date.
I'm now 36 weeks into my fourth successful pregnancy. During my last check-up at the doc's, my little tenant weighed approximately 2.2kg and if she stays in there till full term, she's likely to tip the scales at 3kg and above. Here's a 3D scanned image of my Number 4 in utero:
 |
| Hello. I am Number 4. |
A new chapter awaits.
Monday, July 08, 2013
Fears
I didn't think it was possible but it was worth a shot - a fluke chance that I'd get lucky.
And now I'm sitting alone in New York New York, tucking into some Wild Mushroom with Sausage Baked Rice dish and typing this while waiting for Wen to finish her Art class.
Usually, my Monday evenings are spent huffing and puffing to the pumped-up music at my weekly Amore aerobics class. That's a routine I've faithfully kept to since December last year in a desperate attempt to live healthier lifestyle. But I cancelled my class today because I'm not quite sure if jumping around, doing squats, tummy crunches and lifting light weights will destablise my aging womb. I don't want to take any risks this time, having suffered two miscarriages last year.
Yes, I got a positive on the home pregnancy test kit. Two clear blue lines:
But I am paranoid. Extremely paranoid.
After Bonus and Lost, I wasn't sure if I wanted to conceive again. I mourned for the babies I couldn't carry and cuddle. And now that I've succeeded in getting pregnant, my next worry is whether I'll be able to carry this little one all the way to full term.
Plus, being close to 40 puts me in a high(er) risk category compared to 12 years ago when I became pregnant with Xian.
This constant worrying is getting me nowhere. My hub, the usual brick whom he is, assured me that he'd be there no matter what's the outcome. I told him not to whoop for joy too early because the last two losses have placed me on the defensive and I am preparing myself for the worse.
We haven't talked about it much simply because we don't want to raise each other's hopes knowing that the odds are stacked against us.
And we really shouldn't be greedy because we've three beautiful girls already, and they've brought us great joy despite the usual bouts of growing pains which we're beginning to experience as Xian slowly transforms into a teenager.
It's a wait-and-see game. Fingers crossed.
And now I'm sitting alone in New York New York, tucking into some Wild Mushroom with Sausage Baked Rice dish and typing this while waiting for Wen to finish her Art class.
Usually, my Monday evenings are spent huffing and puffing to the pumped-up music at my weekly Amore aerobics class. That's a routine I've faithfully kept to since December last year in a desperate attempt to live healthier lifestyle. But I cancelled my class today because I'm not quite sure if jumping around, doing squats, tummy crunches and lifting light weights will destablise my aging womb. I don't want to take any risks this time, having suffered two miscarriages last year.
Yes, I got a positive on the home pregnancy test kit. Two clear blue lines:
But I am paranoid. Extremely paranoid.
After Bonus and Lost, I wasn't sure if I wanted to conceive again. I mourned for the babies I couldn't carry and cuddle. And now that I've succeeded in getting pregnant, my next worry is whether I'll be able to carry this little one all the way to full term.
Plus, being close to 40 puts me in a high(er) risk category compared to 12 years ago when I became pregnant with Xian.
This constant worrying is getting me nowhere. My hub, the usual brick whom he is, assured me that he'd be there no matter what's the outcome. I told him not to whoop for joy too early because the last two losses have placed me on the defensive and I am preparing myself for the worse.
We haven't talked about it much simply because we don't want to raise each other's hopes knowing that the odds are stacked against us.
And we really shouldn't be greedy because we've three beautiful girls already, and they've brought us great joy despite the usual bouts of growing pains which we're beginning to experience as Xian slowly transforms into a teenager.
It's a wait-and-see game. Fingers crossed.
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