Those Two Kinds Of Love

When my second born was put onto my chest right after she was pulled out, I felt relieved. For my pain was eased. For the baby had finally arrived - safely and with loud cries. I first noticed her reddish dark skin and thick hair along her upper shoulders and back of her neck. She was just amazing! Somehow she was calm in my embrace despite her first loud cries. I held her on my chest while she was trying to nurse. For the next hour, it’s just the both of us: me holding her and her nursing calmly - in one of the ICU rooms, under the blinding light of lamps on the ceiling and in the buzzing cold of the AC breeze. Within that first hour, something came to mind. I wasn’t sure that it was something worth thinking about. I might be just exhausted so I couldn’t think straight, or the fact that everything went well simply calmed me down so I just didn’t bother thinking about anything bad at all. Only when a nurse came taking my baby for further observations then I thought about my first born - my son. At that time, he was away with his dad at our relatives’s house and it was only a little while ago that he was with me before I delivered, and how I missed him! How could I miss my first baby when it was my second baby I was holding in my embrace?! 

Honestly, when I first knew that I was pregnant with my daughter, I felt surprised in some sort of annoyance. I know, I know - why did I even feel that way toward her? But the truth was: I wasn’t ready for my second baby - because I know it’s going to be very hard to go through another pregnancy while raising a one-year old kid. To make it worse, it has always been only my husband and I teaming up - no other family members to help us out. I still clearly remember how I actually felt about my first pregnancy - I also freaked out mostly for not feeling ready. But since it was my first, I simply loved it soon after finding it out.

I think I treasured my first pregnancy the most - like, you know, I finally got to know how it feels to be pregnant and to have baby.

And the second one freaked me out much more - for I hadn’t had the experience of raising a baby and a toddler altogether while also living my own life! With my baby boy, it was quite hard - many new things to learn, many mistakes, all sorts of feelings and emotions, and most notably: the exhaustion. Then how was I gonna be when having two little kids?! 

At that first hour of my second baby and I were bonding, I knew just what I were thinking of: I loved my daughter in an instant from the second that she was held in my arms, yet I wished that my son were the only baby. 

On Being A Mother: The Feels & The Thoughts

    

    Before I was pregnant with my baby boy (who is 4 months old as I am writing this), I always knew that I wanted to have children, at least one. I always see myself as a family woman - I enjoy home life. I simply wanted to have my own family - a husband and kid/s - to tend to, to take care of, to love, for the goods and the bads, absolutely to live with my entire life.

        

     Pretty basic. Everyone’s dream. Any woman's desire.

        

    Yet, when two sticks showed two red lines each (I did home pregnancy test twice, just to make myself believe), I was wrecked into two pieces - really in awe of having a little human alive and grow inside of me. A part of me was overjoyed: how amazing it would be to carry my baby weeks by weeks in my womb, to deliver, raise and love him my whole life. The other part was extremely terrified: how frightening it would be to bear a baby at my 35, how I was not mentally ready for a baby despite my age (not even ready with anything yet!), and suddenly all fears concerning my baby’s life just came up: What if my baby is sick? What if my baby gets hurt? What if he inherits my bad health traits? (I’ve got issues with bad immune system, plus being pregnant at such an old age concerns me with risks causing birth defects which I strongly fear my baby may have. Why risking my life by having an unhealthy baby? I really wished that I had had him at 25!) What if I could not nurture him the best I could? What if I am a bad mother? - and so forth. The suspense was killing me!

        

Personal Novelty: Going Plant-based & Raw

As much as I love eating: the idea of occasionally eating much of yummy food, I realize that I come to that moment when some things are gonna change forever - for good, for better. I have expressed my love for food and cooking in my previous posts, which are very different things from what I have got recently. The part of loving food and cooking stays the same, while kinds of food I prefer differ significantly.

Being a visual admirer, I am impressed about how a meal looks beautiful, regardless how it tastes. That is how meal concept of mine changes in the first place: from what my eyes capture and enjoy.

Then, it is my growing desire that what makes me feel more alive and definitely happier does matter. My circle of social networks-based friends seems getting bigger and wider, and through those wonderful personas I know that I will let myself try some things which are out of my daily basis. A meal, by one of the vegans whose feeds I follow, consists of white rice, wedges of roasted potatoes (both regular and sweet), mango salsa, and handful of herbs (coriander and parsley) is among my first visual experiences which got me so excited.

To me, the meal was not only beautifully prepared, but also mouth-wateringly looking, though the ingredients are very simple.

Its humble appearance even “disguises” the fully-packed nutrients it carries - I mean, most people wouldn’t agree that such humble meal is nutritious. As usual, just like someone who always places last in a race, I got that spirit to claim my first place ever, or someone who has been hibernating all winter, I was wide awake for spring betterment.

"PLUCK THE DAY [AS IT IS RIPE]!"

✎

I find glory in writing.

There is a sense of bitterness to write my ugly truths.

There is a sense of great beauty to write my fantasies. Magnificence.

There is always peculiar sensation in my systematic series of composing a piece or two of writing.

Writing is something I am grateful for - for being able to do what I love, in hope that it is also something which allows me to pursue in the future.

Writing fuels my own chase - just like great people interest me, just like great stuffs fill me with astonishment.

LOG OF THE DUSK

❄

She is there alone - like she was before.

She thought she was that weak, but almost at dusk of the day, as she glanced thru her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of silvery grey across the sky, with gray branches of tree swayed in the dancing wind: particle of the universe is always her companion. 

The velvety desire within her told her that she was strong - she is.

Musical notes crept thru the white wires - sending another jolt of pure, electric anodes of power to her soul, pumping it joyfully yet subtly - then, she curved a crescent moon smile: believing in getting by and letting the magic happen.

❄

picture: private document

CULINARY MUSE

Starting my Sunday in any other way than usual, there is one thing for sure: skipping my morning shower to enjoy what I call "freedom of Sunday" - whatever it means! After taking a very short trip to grocery shopping, I fixed myself a simple breakfast of egg, and a mug of coffee, then into the very thing I have anticipated since Saturday afternoon: reading thru a cookbook - because I urge myself to be inspired!

It is FRESH: Simple, Delicious Recipes To Make You Feel Energised!, by Donal Skehan - a Food Blogger, Cookbook Author, Food Photographer & TV Presenter - from Dublin, Ireland.

Upon receiving the package which made me wait for weeks (and, there's nothing I could do about it), I felt excited! How could not I? From the moment I saw the book for the first time on someone's feed, I got hooked - right away! (So, thanks to her!) I realized I need some serious guidance on cooking which are both simple and delicious for my culinary interest is getting intensified.

MY AMERICAN DREAMS: THRU' HIS EYES OF MINE

Central Park, New York - May 2015

First day of August 2014, he departed to The United States of America.

Yep! Leaving me all behind.

Like I really, really couldn't help it!

He left me for a great deal : education.

By any means and in any ways, I just simply could never ruin his dream - even if it means parting millions miles away!

I always told myself that I was gonna be okay once he left, but of course I failed. I felt empty - exactly like what I felt when my mom passed away years ago.

Cold. Grey. Completely lonesome. Absolutely on my own.

For he is not only the man I married. A family. But also, the one I want to spend my days and nights, goods and bads with - the cherry to my pie, the straw to my berry, the cream to my Oreo! Once he leaves, what am I gonna do?