Those Who Live in Our Hearts

Sometime you know someone for years
and you still don’t know how to have a convo
beyond hello, how are you? Good? Great…

Sometime you know someone for years
and know each other so well
you can be quiet or rowdy, you’ll have a blast

Then you met someone
who made such a huge impression
that when their time is cut short
suddenly you’re left with a gaping hole
and you know not how to stitch it close

Oh life goes on
laundry not gonna clean itself
nor is dinner
would that they could

then you go somewhere
see something
immediately thinking, ooh need to tell.. oh yeah.. can not.

well dang, ain’t that just peachy
who’s cutting onions near me?

halt!
tissues
ok, moving along now

the problem with that gaping hole
no matter how good you are at sewing
you’ll never completely seal it
darn these microscopic holes!

and still, life goes on

sink or swim?

what you have to remember
life jackets and rafts are always available
seek and ye shall find

we’ll see each other anyway, eventually.

until then,
kusjes

lebak bulus 170816

Grief-recovery

Mamah Main FB

Tanpa ada hujan angin atau wangsit sebelumnya, tiba-tiba suatu pagi ibu saya menelepon dan bilang, “Kamu hari ini sibuk apa? Ayo temenin Mamah cari hp baru.” Heh? Sebagai anak yang baik tentu saya menjawab, “Baiklah, nanti aku jemput ya.”

Kemudian pergilah kami ke rumah kedua kami, PIM, atau Pondok Indah Mall. Penasaran saya tanya, kenapa tiba-tiba ingin ganti hp? Ada masalah apakah? Hp seperti apa yang diinginkan?

Ibu saya ini lama berkecimpung di dunia LSM dan masih aktif sampai sekarang. Rupanya banyak teman-teman LSMnya, yang mayoritas anak muda (karena mereka sekarang memanggil ibu saya, ‘Eyang’) , yang memiliki smartphone dan suka mengirimi ibu saya foto kegiatan dan keluarga mereka. Mereka pun sebenarnya suka menegur ibu saya lewat facebook. Karena Ibu saya bunet, alias buta internet, Ibu saya merasa sedikit bersalah karena sangat jarang membuka facebook (perlu bantuan cucunya untuk membukanya lewat pc di rumah) dan tidak bisa membuka foto-foto yang dikirim ke hpnya yang biasa-biasa saja itu. Yang membuat ibu saya lebih merasa bersalah adalah karena kadang-kadang beliau yang meminta foto tersebut. Contoh percakapan (sms) mereka:
“Eyang… anakku sudah lahir!”
“Oh ya? Selamat ya. Laki-laki atau perempuan? Lihat dong fotonya…”
“Ini Eyang.”
Tentunya dengan bangga teman ibu saya mengirimkan foto bayinya… yang kemudian tidak bisa dilihat sama sekali oleh ibu saya.

Setelah menentukan budget, fitur yang diinginkan, serta melihat-lihat aneka hp yang ada, pilihan pun jatuh kepada merek yang sama seperti telepon lamanya dengan jaminan bisa memindahkan semua data dari hp lama ke hp baru. Data selesai dipindahkan, SIM Telkomsel diaktifkan, mulailah proses belajar menggunakan smartphonenya yang baru.

“Jadi Mah, ini kartunya sudah aktif, tapi untuk menggunakan internetnya perlu beli paket internet lagi, kalau tidak pulsanya kemakan banyak. Nah ini paket internetnya sudah aku aktifkan lewat program bunetnya telkomsel, kalau kuotanya sudah habis, bilang nanti aku isi lagi,”
“Ok. Jadi sekarang sudah bisa lihat foto?”
“Bisa banget! Mamah juga bisa buka fb, chatting lewat bb, wa…”
“Tunggu… satu-satu dulu, jadi kalau mau lihat foto di fb bagaimana?”

Rupanya sudah tidak sabar ibuku melihat foto teman-temannya. Mulailah proses cara membuka fb di hp baru Mamah. Cara login, timefeed itu apa, cara membuat status, memberi komentar, mencari teman, membuka foto album (dan melihat-lihat aneka foto bayi serta anak-anak temannya) dan sebagainya.

“Paham Mah?”
“Kayaknya paham,”
“Ya udah tanya aja lagi ya kalau masih bingung.”

Lama tidak terlihat ada aktifitas. Sampai suatu hari, kejutan! Dapat notifikasi, “Fatimah memberikan komentar” Waks! Mamahku serius fban?
Yep. Dibawah foto yang saya pajang tertera komentar dari ibuku. Waow, Mamah sudah bisa main fb sekarang. Ups, harus lebih hati-hati berstatus dong sekarang 🙂

20141029-213951.jpg

Waooo… udah bisa komen di fb Mamah akoooh 😀

One and All My Life are just an extension of my mom’s music

Simply excellent. Glad I got to watch the concert.

Listening to One by Metallica as I’m reading my news, I’m struck at how beautiful the string arrangements in the middle of the song, around minute 4 and then around minute 6 or the end. Okay so perhaps ‘beautiful’ might not be the appropriate word to describe metal music but hey, I’m no expert! I just like to listen to whatever my ears take a liking to. It got me thinking (I know, dangerous activity this, thinking) your taste doesn’t just evolve by itself, it takes into account influences by people closest to you; people in your household and friends.

What are your toes made of?

My parents actually has similar musical taste. They both like pop music at their time which given their age it means everything from jazz, swing, to rock n’ roll. Because of my dad western influenced education, he also likes classics. So come to think of it, the noises my house produces were rather wide-ranging. At any given time you could be subjected to Mozart, Benny Goodman, Elvis, The Beatles, Strauss, Louis Armstrong, Simon & Garfunkel, and Michael Franks. Each kids responds differently to this cacophony of sounds.

 

His voice is amazing. Right up my second sister’s alley. If she listens to current music that is.

My oldest sister seems to absorbed it all and likes whatever is cool at the moment. My brother takes after my mom and pursue a more rockin’ sound such as Kiss, Genesis, Iron Maiden, and Dream Theater. My other sister is firmly in the gentler sound genre. She likes Rick Astley and other similar crooner. Me? Since I was born even later, not only I got to listen to my parents’, I got the ‘benefit’ of my siblings too. This time, those who cranks it out loudest seems to win.

In his time, this dude is a pop star!

Yes, I like classical music. I enjoyed listening to the old masters, I am moved by operas and listen to some arias for fun. Yes I like pop music. I still love Madonna and Michael Jackson – I actually cried when he died. I absolutely adore Take That and has a huge crush on the Backstreet Boys. Yes, I also like rock music. Given that out of all the older siblings, my brother got to drive me around most it is no surprise I also likes the sound of Kiss and Whitesnake and I thought the art covers for Iron Maiden was very colourful and funny. I dunno why those skellies seems funny instead of scary to my 6-year-old mind. Perhaps my skewered sense of humour just developed early.

 

Oh look, a skeleton rides a plane! Funny! Right?

So I listen to all kinds of music but the clincher is of course the music of my highschool years. During my time this is no other than that famous Seattle sound aka grunge. I think highschool girls around the globe were in love Kurt and Eddie (well not me. Kurt made me want to cook while I kinda want to give Eddie a chill pill) at that time. Eventually, if push come to shove, ripping guitars and decisive drums wins out among others. I like rock music and its many variations a little bit above everything else. I still think that in an alternate universe, my name is Mrs Dave Grohl. (yes, how old are you again?)

Hello dearest 😉

Who do you listens to and what or who do you think influence your taste?

And Off They Grow…

You always think of your child as babies. I think that’s one undeniable thing about being a parent. That’s what my dad says when my sister was getting married. He says, “Are you sure you want to get married? Aren’t you a little young to be married?” Well dad, considering at that time she was over 25, she is most certainly not anymore 😉

Baby no 1 saying hello to a plant

So now I have babies of my own. I have 2 little babies who are on their way not being a baby no more. But you know, you live with your kids, taking care of them day in-day out, manage their sibling fights and what nots, and somehow they stay babies in your mind. Until you take them to school.

Baby no 2 enjoying Granny time

Once your kids enter school… that’s it, no turning back. Every time you see their friends you’re reminded how fast they are growing. You may deny it at home, but at school it is harder. They get taller, chattier, more independent. Why can’t they just stay young forever?

Ah but they can’t though can they? Nor can you. Yes you 😉 Not much you can do about it, I’m afraid. So you know, just enjoy the time you have with them. Enjoy being with them, reading them stories, dropping and picking them up from school. Enjoy mealtimes together. Take family trips, have birthdays or whatever it is that you want to celebrate together. Have fun, have memories.

One day they will be out of your hair, they’ll move on and have family of their own. Gasp! My baby having their own babies! Not anytime soon I hope. But as my dad has shown, no matter how old you get, you’re still their baby. You may be out of your parents hair, but not of their minds. Never.

So here’s to parents and babies! Have love, have faith in this one big unstoppable journey.

Tada! Baby 1 and baby 2 slowly easing out of babyhood.

Cheers!

 

 

 

 

Hi Wa Emon, How Are You?

I dreamt about my uncle, Wa Emon, last night. Whenever I dream about a relative that has passed away I wake up feeling all sorts. I don’t know whether it’s because I sorta watched Inception the day before or what because meeting my uncle was part of a larger dream so it is kinda strange because usually I just met them immediately. This one I need an introduction of some sort. Well.. what is it?

So there I was having lunch with a bunch of friends when I saw my eldest sister passing by. I called her but she didn’t hear me so I followed her. She goes to another restaurant and it turns out she was having lunch with some of our cousins. I was sorta mad at her for not inviting me along and then that’s where I saw Wa Emon, with his wife, Wa Ati, and another man who I thought was his youngest son but I’m not entirely sure who he was. It feels like he’s a relative though and he wears the same clothes as Wa Emon. In that room the people I remember was my sister, another cousin, my uncle, his wife, this one guy, they weren’t the only ones there, just the one that I remember clearly. We talked and joked for a while. I think I even converse with my uncle, meaning I talk and he just smiles like he usually does. Then it was time for pictures. The group gathers and I get the lucky job of being the photographer. Strangely enough, although it was a group photo, all I can see in the viewfinder was my aunt who was looking into the camera, my uncle and this guy, but the two of them would not look into the camera and was actually turning sideways so I can only see their figure. I coax them to look into the camera but they wouldn’t budge so I just took the picture as is. That’s when I suddenly feel so sad. I cried. I felt my face, and it that hazy state when you’re just waking up, my cheeks felt wet. I literally was crying. I woke up and tears were still streaming down my face.

I wanted to call my mom immediately but of course daily chores await. There are children that needs to be woken up for school, coaxed to have a shower, helped get dressed, combed their hair, etc all the usual morning chaos. Once all morning chores are done and my kids are off to school, then I called my mom to rehash such dreams. She laughed when I told her all the intro leading up to me meeting Wa Emon. How elaborate, she said. Then as I told her about this guy whom I though was his youngest son but doesn’t look at all familiar, she immediately let a little yelp,”Ah! That’s probably Ade, his first son! Remember?” Oh yes… They have 3 children; 1 girl and 2 boys. One of the boy passed away when he was young and I was about 4 or 5 years old. I don’t have a clear memory of him so it makes sense that I don’t recognise him, just felt that he’s a relative. That’s why he’s dressed like Wa Emon, like father like son 😉 But then, if this guy was Wa Emon’s son, why is he so big? Didn’t he died when he was a boy? Well, perhaps they grow. Apparently old people turns younger and young people gets older. That’s probably true, my uncle certainly did not look as old as when he died, though he didn’t look like say a 20 yr old but definitely younger like maybe around 50 (he died in his 70s) so why can’t his son grew older?

And the clothes? Here’s the interesting part. I once dreamed about another dead uncle who was a naval officer (he actually got 2 stars which makes him a general, well, in the army he would be called a general. Am not sure what the naval terms is in English) so he was wearing what looked like his white navy uniform. Wa Emon was wearing normal clothes, a green shirt and khaki pants, but I was pretty sure he was wearing batik. Not just any batik, but Megamendung batik, a pattern from Cirebon, where my mom’s family is from. I couldn’t be 100% sure but I know it wasn’t a plain green shirt. My Mom said that perhaps, maybe they’ve met the Cirebon clan, who know? Yep that makes sense. Why not? That’s where they hail from, what would be so strange about wearing a batik pattern that originates from that area?

Well you know how dreams are supposed to be a manifest of all the things that happened or didn’t happened to you? That’s one definition. Another is how it is supposed to give you clues. I’m no dream expert but with limited knowledge that I have, the first part of the dream, where with my friends, is either because I’m missing them – I missed a gathering last week because Babeh was sick – or I’m excited because I’m going to meet them later today. As for my sister, according to my mom, my uncle tried to helped her once but didn’t succeed so maybe that’s why she’s the one ‘chosen’ to guide my way. And the photo shoot? My mom thinks it’s because my aunt is still alive, she’s the only one that was able to look into the camera. My uncle and his son (by now we agreed he was most probably my dead cousin) is no longer with us so that’s why they turned their face away. Why do I cried? I guess I miss Wa Emon more that I realise. It is our first Ramadhan without him and soon would be our first Eid. Who would’ve thought that last year’s Eid would be our last Eid together?

My dear Wa Emon, I miss you, my mom misses you, in fact I think everyone miss you. Thank you for visiting me last night. How are you? Judging from how you look, I trust you are well and you are not alone I see. Was that your son? Hi cousin, so sorry for not recognising you but you look well too, must be nice to be with your dad now. We miss your dad very much but we’re happy he’s happy over there. Al Fatihah for all of you.

Until we meet again 🙂

My mom and her siblings during Eid 2008. Wa Emon is the one on the right.

Drive Bebe, Drive part 2

Pleasant, is not a word one would use to describe Jakarta‘s traffic. Horrid is more like it. The roads are not exactly wide, there are way too many private vehicles and not enough public transportation to alleviate the traffic. To makes matters worse, there are literally tens of thousands of motorcyclist crowding the streets at every hour of everyday. Not exactly something that would entice anyone to drive and join in the throngs. So I don’t. I was quite content to use taxis and drivers to get me from point A to point B. Until I have children.

One can't take pictures like this if behind the wheel 🙂

Actually I didn’t immediately start driving as soon as I have kids, (for a history of my driving read here) I started driving after we move house and Babeh got a new city car for us. We moved a bit further back to the suburbs, in fact our house is right on the city border between Jakarta and Cirendeu; just cross the bridge and I’m in another province altogether. As such, Babeh thinks it is high time we got another car just to complete the white picket fence type family with 3 cats instead of dogs.

I was still quite reluctant since we have a driver, but the longer distance between our house and Babeh’s office plus his busier schedule, force me to drive myself and the kids around. Since we just love the traffic, we manage to carve our kids lives as close to home as possible so all their schools and extra curricular are still within the 10-15 minutes driving from home. But there is this one place that’s about 45 minutes away. Now, the furthest I drive was to our local mall, about 20-30 minutes away.  This place is a little bit beyond the mall.  On this particular day, Babeh needs the car and it is silly to use taxi when there’s a perfectly good city car sitting on the driveway. So I packed the kids, say a little prayer, and off we go.

To say I was nervous was understatement. White knuckles gripping the steering wheel tight. Then something happened. I passed the mall, wait for the light to turns green, and turns to the adjoining street leaving the Pondok Indah area, entering Radio Dalam. As I was driving the somewhat long stretch of road something clicks. There’s really nothing to driving, just a matter of confidence and familiarity and I was pretty familiar with the area. I spend over half of my live living in South Jakarta in particular the Blok-M – Lebak Bulus area, so it’s not like I’m venturing into a brave new world. It’s an old world I pass everyday just now with me behind the wheels.

Just like that, my fear of driving dissipates. I can not let my fear of Jakarta’s traffic rule over me. My children need me. I need to be able to step up when needed. My parents did not raise me to be a dependent person, they raise me to be independent. Driving is one way to prove it. Interesting how I need my children to points that out to me, around 9 years after I moved back home to Jakarta. It’s amazing how proud my kids can get when I pick them from school myself.

But as they say, better late than never 🙂 Although the furthest I got so far is to my work place – still within South Jakarta – it is good enough for now. So thank you kids, for trusting and believing that your mommy can! Love you lots!!!

My Mama’s Porch

Image

With a steaming cup of tea or warm chocolate milk, it is the perfect spot to enjoy the rain.

I lost count how many rainy afternoons and nights I spent sitting on this porch. Almost always with my mom next to me. When I was younger she’d make me a cup of chocolate milk, particularly on rainy nights. Now that I am way older I usually make us a pot of tea to enjoy. And it really is bliss. Just sitting there, enjoying the view and the rain.

We moved to this house when I was 11 and couple year later my dad was offered a job abroad which he accepted and off we move. We didn’t sell the house, my older sibs live and took care of it while we were away. As it turned out, our little adventure abroad took just a bit longer than expected. My parents returned a few years earlier than me. Still, I leave the house as an 8th grader, I moved back in permanently after I got my Master. Though we returned there almost every summer holidays I really didn’t spend a lot of years there, particularly since I got married less than I year after I returned.

But one thing that I cherish the most about my parents house is the porch. It is not big, in fact compared to say the Desperate Housewives’s type of house it is positively tiny but it is large enough to hold 3 chairs and a small table. And that’s where my mom and I like to perch with our teas.

Porch conversation ranges from trivia to serious stuff, whatever we feel like talking about at that particular time. Sometimes we don’t talk at all, simply enjoying each other’s company. The rain never last long, even if it did, my mom always have a tons of thing to do. I used to get annoyed. That is until I became a mom myself. Then I cherish whenever we got the chance to have our sit-down time.

We don’t just sit there during the rain of course. We’d sit there even when there’s no rain. Usually on holiday mornings or rare afternoons. We were lounging there when my sister’s then boyfriend suddenly made an appearance and got to be grilled by us before my sister show up. He pass the test just fine. He went on to be my brother-in-law.  Another memorable moment was the time that a total stranger come out of a becak selling his homemade layered cake door-to-door. My mom invited him to the porch, he told us he originally came from Bangka, then he moved to Jakarta and now starting a cake business. He proceed to tell us about his layered cake, how it is made using traditional methods and recipe handed down from his mom’s family. Then he cut a small slice for us to taste. Man it was delicious! My mother instantly knew he was telling the truth. You see my mom used to live in Bangka when she was young and the cake taste of her childhood. She’d come to her friends’ house and their mom would offer her their version of the layered cake.  My mom sign on to became a lifelong customer immediately.

Every year he would come to our house to deliver the cakes for Eid. We witness his business grow from his mode of transport, he started with the humble becak, then bajaj, until finally he has a minivan to transport his goods. His daughter now handles the order but every now and then he would come out himself to deliver our cakes. Our family is such a longtime customer that there are certain cakes that are now off the menu except for us. How can we not love them?

I visit my parents a lot, and I do have dates with my mom, so it’s not like I don’t see them at all. Even so, opportunity to sit at the porch is not as much as it used to be. What better way to preserve the memory then? How about you? Do you have a porch that you love?

One Day at the Supermarket

One fine day, as I go through my grocery list, I think of you

I think of how you would probably like the tasty oranges currently in season

or perhaps a bite of a  Yang Lie Pear as favoured by my children

 

I move to the vegetables section,

Like my mom, you also like raw greens

It’s the Sunda trait in both of you

I saw the chillies and think how your wife always eats her dinner with sambal

if that’s not available, then, raw chilli(es) it is

and how that amuses you

 

I pass the chocolate section

You like chocolates right? I know one of your brother does

Apparently your brother likes to hide them so other can’t find it.

Did you?

 

I push my trolley, and I think of you

Of your gentle smile

Your ever-present quirky humour

“You know, she’s not really alone, there’s a director and the crew over there…”

would be your comment upon a particularly scary scene in a movie

So typical of my mum’s family 😀

 

We shared partial dna

and my mum told many stories

of growing up with you

that I feel I know you

 

I don’t see you that often

But when we do, you always bestow a quick kiss on the forehead

as you do to all your nieces

regardless whether we’re 5, 10 or 35.

 

Wa Emon,

you leave us

with your gentle smile

giving us too, a smile amidst our tears

 

Inna lillahi wa inna illaihi rojiun

 

Take care Uwa,

You’re in good hands

Some of the family are already there to greet you

Your dad and your son in particular

I know you’re happy there

 

Until we meet again

 

lebak bulus 24212

The Bittersweet Eid

Back in the day, we Indonesians celebrated Eid on the same day, as it should be. It was and still is a joyous occasion where we celebrated the end of Ramadhan. Then, 1998 rolled around. Chaos. Reformation. Democratic resurrection. Weak leaders up till now. Corruption ran unchecked and everywhere. States becoming little kingdoms. Everyone wants to get rich quick , public service means the public service the elected politicians. Well ok, what does all this has to do with Eid? It means, we now celebrate in different ways. And it sucks!

Yes, free from authoritarian shackles, everyone thinks democratic means always having your own say and that your opinion is always right. Nobody cares about uniting the country. The country can go to the dumps. All anyone care is themselves, their family, then their ilks. Again, it sucks!

Now, the way Eid is decided here is by having a big meeting called isbat, where all the Islamic organisation gathers among with astronomers from the military, navy, all legitimate organisation that deals with navigation, astronomy, and the likes. Of all these elements, there’s 2 major religious organisation that likes to differ in opinion, the Muhammadiyah and NU. The former likes to use advancement of technology, the latter likes to use mathematics plus the human eye to determine dates. Nothing wrong with these methods. Each are backed with valid theories and hadith. What is wrong is that they sometimes differ and they can not or would not agree on the same date!

Let me make myself clear, I do not belong to any organisation. I don’t actually care how Eid is determined. I do not have any preference over any method of date calculation. I do not pledge allegiance to any of the religious organisation. My family is a nationalist, my grandparents are not in the history books but they damn well fought for the country against the Dutch and Japanese invasion. Therefore, it’s only natural that I am a card-carrying member of this one great nation called Indonesia. I pledge allegiance to this country – hey I pay tax (or rather, my dad and later, my husband does). I proudly carry the green passport with Garuda Eagle embossed on the cover on my travels abroad. I salute to the red and white flag. I fiercely defend it whenever and wherever. And so, is it any wonder I don’t think it is cool that we celebrate Eid on different days?

Yes, call me undemocratic, call me intolerant, but I say this before and I say it again, I think it sucks (boy, I really need to expand my vocabulary) that the powers that be cannot come into agreement over when we celebrate Eid.
Everyone keep saying, ooh respect differences, difference is beautiful. Well I say, bullsh*t to that. A UNITED country is beautiful. This is one instance where difference is NOT beautiful. Think about it. We’re all muslim. We all believe in the same God, prophets and holy book. We all fast during Ramadhan, we celebrate the same celebration, so how does it make sense to celebrate it on the same day? It is stupid! Ok, so, we’re huge country, some place might celebrate it differently, Australia is also split into two, some states celebrate it on Tuesday and the rest on Wednesday. But those who live on the same town celebrate it on the same day!

Here? Forget the town or cities. Even in the same household some people celebrate it on different days. And they are proud of it. They think it’s so cool, so democratic, so tolerant, so modern. Seriously? What were you smoking? Has the liberals brainwashed the masses into thinking that everything must be different? You’re not cool unless you’re different mate!

Send me back to the stone age, but seriously, the same family, in the same household, celebrating the same celebration on different days and nobody thinks that’s weird? Even Catholics and Protestants celebrated Christmas on the same day. And boy, you just need to google I.R.A. to see how bloody their disagreements get. I don’t think it’s cool. I don’t think it is a ‘rahmat’ that husband and wife, mother and father, siblings, differ in celebrating. A family in the same household should be united. They should be together. Likewise the religious organisations should put the unity of the country ahead of their own ego. By deciding to differ I don’t think they are being wise. I think they are being selfish, proud, and egoist. They think they are right and they don’t care about anyone else. Makes you wonder what’s the point of fasting during Ramadhan then? You’re not wiser. You’re just childish.

Yes yes your method may be right, your method may be the better one BUT, any technology is only as good as the person who made it. Any calculation is only as good as the brain provided. And human are prone to mistakes. Why do you think Allah gave us Ramadhan every single year?

Again, don’t think that I support a particular organisation over the other. I don’t. As I said, I’m a card-carrying member of neither. My blood is neither Muhammadiyah nor NU. My blood is Indonesian through and through. All I want is for all muslims in Indonesia or at the very least, in Jakarta and Jabotabek area to celebrate Eid on the same day. No more, no less.

Unfortunately I see to be the only one that wants that. The rest seems happy to be separated. I want us to be united. Not separated. Not divided. Together. That’s all. Until that happens, Eid would probably continues to be bittersweet for me. Hope that would change.

 

The Two that I already have

Heard a wonderful news this morning, a dear friend is expecting her third child. Congratulations! So happy for her 🙂

Being pregnant certainly is a joyous thing. I’m lucky both pregnancies went off without a hitch save for an early scare during the first one but being mentally happy while receiving adequate healthcare works wonders. A bit of r&r, proper nourishment (over nourished some might say) and the first one was back on track in no time.

While I never pray for a specific child, Babeh used to get a feeling whether we’d have a daughter or a son. I just prayed for a healthy baby thus that’s how I got two perfectly formed, healthy babies. I guess I was a bit freaked out because the first thing I asked Babeh after the baby come out was if they have complete set of fingers, toes, is everything in the right place,nose, eyes, mouth, etc.

After I have both a boy and a girl, we’re quite happy. There were thoughts of having more but my thinking is that I would only have more babies if Babeh wants more kids. There’s nothing worse than an unwanted baby and I’d have none of that. I also believe that God knows what’s best for you. If God thinks I’m worthy of having more then nothing would prevent us from having another. However, I’m fully aware that even with just two kids I am already among the blessed ones. I have seen the angst some friends go through to have a baby. No complaints from me about that.

So there we have it. I’m very thankful for the two that I already have. I hope to raise them to be good, great people. All my love to you kids. Thank you for gracing my life with your presence.

*A, hope you have a safe, healthy, happy pregnancy 🙂 *