Sunday, August 19, 2012

The worst thing...... happen during Raya is to get sick...or have your kid get sick, - or anyone get sick for that matter.

Bleurgh. My head is throbbing, my chest feels tight and my throat is as dry as the desert. I've shooed Abg and let him enjoy the festivities. I wouldn't be around me if I were him.

So, Ramadhan has left us. We managed to get through with not a single visit to the Pasar Ramadhan. Impressive or what, eh?

At first I was so enthusiastic - cooking twice a day and having freshly cooked rice and 'lauk' even for sahur. But after 2 weeks, I had to rack my brains to think of what to cook. However, we only went for fastfood (the downside of having Pizza Hut just two seconds away) twice! Which I personally think was amazing.

Anyway, I'm going to crawl into bed and try to get some sleep now. Eid Mubarak everyone.

Friday, August 10, 2012

When the young die

I received news that an acquaintance had lost her 9 year-old daughter recently.

My thoughts and prayers are with her. How a parent deals with that kind of tragedy is beyond me. They say nothing is worse than having your child die before you and I sincerely believe that is true. Because a parent will always have the highest hopes and dreams for their child. They nurture their kid so that he/she will have a long fruitful life in front of her, to maybe achieve more than her/his parents did and hopefully to be a better person.

How does one console such a tragedy, what does one say?

How can one go on with life remembering the exact moment your child was born, when he/she first smiled and what her/his first words are - and know there will never be another first for him/her. No matter how strong the parents are - I cannot imagine coming home and looking at your child's room and imagining her/him running towards you with that cheeky smile of his/hers and know that that will never be possible?

I guess the only way to get through it is to have faith in Allah for HE has HIS ways and who are we to question what they are. In the meantime, be strong and gather courage from each other. Tears and time will heal all, eventually.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

When tears come

Despite our childless state, it had never crossed my mind to put the blame on anyone. Period.

There was nothing nor no one to blame. I told myself, Allah has HIS ways. HE has blessed my life in so many other ways that sometimes I feel so guilty about not giving thanks enough. My husband, my health, the almost constant contentment that I feel, the joy I get from friends and family, the ability to derive happiness from simple pleasures like seeing my cats wrestle each other - the list is endless.

Part of the plan for my hiatus was to get some professional help to change this. Our home is so beautiful that it'd be more wonderful with pitter patter of tiny human feet - rather than little paws.

However, when certain attempts prove to be futile - I find my optimism waning. I don't want to play the blame game, much less when I am beginning to blame HIM.

This month has been exceptionally difficult - mainly because we were really trying. Before, it was - kalau ada, ada lah, kalau takde pun takpe [if it is to be, so be it but if it isn't, that's ok too] and I was happy with that. In fact, in the later years, I had totally accepted our fate. I told myself that at least I am spared the headaches of parents.

But then, I start to think, what exactly is wrong with us that HE feels that we don't deserve kids? Am I so bad that Allah doesn't feel that I deserve it? If there is a hikmah in this, please tell me soon what it is because consoling myself can be heartbreaking.

Then the tears come - I cry for not being able to become the wife that I am supposed to be, I cry for not being able to feel how much love is too much when it comes to loving a child - I cry for my arwah son (yes, he was a boy - we named him Muhammad), I cry for Abg because he may never have the opportunity to cry the Azan or to recite the iqamah in our child's ear.

Most of all I cry for my own weakness, for even beginning to be mad at Allah for my fate. As I wipe my tears, I resolve to not let myself be weak and to have more faith in HIM. I tell myself that we have a good life - an exceptionally good life that I rarely think the grass is greener on the other side. The grass has always been greener on my side of the fence and I don't think I'd want to change that.

But I know the tears will come once in a while and I will pray that even in the state of most sadness that I will never forget that.