My Superman 

The one advice every parent repeated to us before Miss Deng arrived was to sleep as much as possible. And I did listen to them! I had my fill of daily 10 hour sleep, which I miss. 

Some nights back, despite having Miss Deng presumably feeding at my boobs for two hours, she got up less than an hour after, at 11.30pm, screaming inconsolably. Neither of us could coax her to calm down nor did she want any more milk. I was feeling fatigued and the frustration of not knowing what to do was building up.

Then The Mister took Miss Deng from me, firmly told me to go to sleep while he handled her.

That moment.

Magic.

Love.

Adoration.

I obliged and apparently was snoring a bit too quickly for his liking. 

While I love The Mister madly, there are a few specific moments in our relationship where I feel love for him hitting me hard. Moments like when I realized how he had painfully planned our honeymoon in Japan at great cost to himself. Like when I had left a trail of puke to the toilet in my first trimester and he made me go and rest while he cleaned it up. That night when he took our screaming baby into his arms and told me to sleep was another one of those moments that made me feel I married the most incredible man ever.

I’ve come to realize what a blessing The Mister is to me as there are many mothers who lack proper support from their husbands, which I cannot think of anything worse to bear as a first time mother. The Mister simply being present even though unable to bear the burdens only I can bear (i.e. breastfeeding) really makes a difference to my heart and mind. 

This blessing was well worth waiting and trusting the Lord in. ❤️

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The Arrival of Miss Deng Part 2

I wanted to capture the details of Miss Deng’s arrival and the reflections and emotions of it all. But after writing and rewriting it several times, with plenty of interruptions to my flow of thoughts from a demanding baby, I give up. 

I’ll just keep it short and simple. After 24 hours of contraction, Miss Deng arrived under two hours of labour. Everything was over before I could agonise over the pain. 

Apparently it’s an impressive feat. Naturally delivering a first kid under two hours. A nasty episiotomy helped. My impressive feat earned the praise from the nurses that night for being the second most brave Mommy. This was overheard by The Mister but he didn’t manage to find out why I was second best or what made the bravest Mommy top their charts. 💁🏻 

Miss Deng has been with us now for a month and a real joy. But it hasn’t got easier yet, this round the clock feeding. 🙅🏻 Hoping for a change in tide soon. 

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The Arrival of Miss Deng Part 1

It was a regular Saturday, I had the usual Bible study with Annie, YT and Cherry on John 10. The pregnancy was heavy at 37 weeks plus. I joked with the girls how I wanted Miss Deng to arrive asap although Mister wanted her to stay put in me for awhile more. I joked about wanting to have the right to “lay her down and take her up” (referenced to John 10:18), rather than waddle around with her in me.

When we were done with the Bible study we headed to have a dinner at a Bavarian restaurant for some pork knuckles. The restaurant manager said he had never seen four girls finish the platter of meat we ordered before and we joked we were 4+1, with Miss Deng in me.


Looks innocent but we really struggled to finish this. Years of watching my food intake to “stay slim” has made me reluctant to let go and indulge in food but that reservation bit by bit has gone out the window since marriage and pregnancy. So I had a real go at the meat on Saturday night with a tiny sense of mortification at the back of my head, effectively silenced.

While everyone was lamenting how stuffed they felt, I was feeling nimble and only just satisfied.

Went to bed thinking how I would never have allowed myself to eat that much and sleep contentedly after when I was single.

And then. A few hours later I felt an unfamiliar feeling. It came and went. A few hours it came again. In my sleep I realised it was contractions. But I was still two weeks away from the expected due date. It felt too surreal to actually meet Miss Deng so I brushed it aside.

When morning came, there was a flurry of checks if it was just indigestion, false contractions or actual contractions. I felt certain it was contractions but I didn’t want to go to the hospital to confirm it and wait there until it was time for labour. So we stayed home to rest until I was ready.

24 hours later, at 1.20am, after a day of suffering irregular contractions, I was pretty certain the pain had intensified and was about time to head to the hospital.


And so we arrived at the hospital, 2 weeks earlier than expected, at 3am to finally greet Miss Deng.

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Train etiquettes 

I know I expressed strong disapproval over young men seated in priority seats in the train, absorbed in games without any consideration to those the seats are reserved for. But I’m not dogmatically inflexible in my opinions. There are times young people can be emotionally, mentally and physically drained and have no energy to connect with their surroundings. 

In this recent incident on the train, the young man I stood next to, who was seated on the priority seat and playing a phone app game, looked drained. So I didn’t actually mind he didn’t give up the seat. 

What did make me uncomfortable was how the lady nearby phrased her sentence and in the manner she did. Did she have to ask if he was from China, because I’ve encountered far more rude locals, and not even pause for him to answer as if the question should immediately evoke shame? I hesitated taking the seat because I felt the racist remark was more offensive than being denied a seat. I wondered if I should respond in kind, to shame her for her words. But eventually I felt her words were more clumsy than malicious so I just thanked her and sat. Or did I choose comfort over principle? Who knows, maybe both.

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That random urge

I didn’t actually draw on my belly though I felt the urge to… The Mister might have a few words with me about drawing on his kid! 

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Judgement on the MRT

judgement-on-mrt

This happened sometime between the first and second trimester in the Singapore subway when it was not obvious I was pregnant. Irregardless of whether I am pregnant or not, it irks me to no end when I see a young man playing with a mobile device, seated on the priority seats on the subway. There are many reasons why it irks me but the main one is the obvious inconsideration they have for people around them who could have a greater need for the seats as they allow their awareness of their environment to be disconnected by their entertainment.

There are some young men who sit on the priority seats and do play with their devices but look up every so often to keep a check on their surroundings. And when they see someone who have a greater need, give up their seats. I can respect that. But as I was on “judgemental mode”, I was watching this particular young man like a hawk and noticed he never once bothered to look up.

When I became more obviously pregnant, it was easier to get seats without any fuss.

A friend shared how in her third trimester, heavily pregnant, someone had gotten up from the priority seat and she moved aside to let the person pass. As she was distracted for a second, a kid of 12 years old quickly grabbed the emptied seat and proceeded to play with his mobile device. She wasn’t having it and demanded loudly that he get out of the seat, to which he blinked a few times before he grudgingly got up. She vowed she would teach her own boys manners and not ever grow up with such spoilt, entitled mentality that kids seem to have these days.

I know my kid(s) won’t have it easy with me too! All I hope for now is that they go easy on me when they enter into this world!

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Bad trim

bad-trim

I usually get my hair done when I visit my parents in Kuala Lumpur. It’s cheaper and the exchange rates means visits to branded hair salons there is cheaper than the average Singapore hair salons. But being heavily pregnant at 35 weeks now, I won’t be going to KL anytime soon. And just in case Baby Deng decides it’s time to see the world, I decided to go for a trim while I still can.

I chose to go to the neighbourhood mall as I could do a quick trip there and back without me or The Mister being worried about me going by myself.

I should be given credit for not being overly fussy about who touches my hair, despite my hair being thick, unruly and generally quite a challenge to manage. I am always open to explore different hairdressers as they might give me a different interpretation of hairstyle that might actually be a refreshing change to what I’m used to.

I did ask for bangs. But I didn’t expect this chap to make a quick nick without asking me how short I’d like it to be, in which style it should take on, etc. I was expecting soft bangs with a hint of glamour or chicness to it. I was seriously annoyed ending up with the stereotype Chinese chick look. Like super ah lian man. Beh tahan.

Bright side. It will grow out during the time I wait for Baby Deng to arrive and after.

The Mister is wise enough to insist he loves it. Says it makes him feel like he’s married to a younger looking wife.

I’m suspicious though because the last time I dismissed his insistence to go to his regular barber over a quick and convenient haircut, he had a horrible experience and a terrible haircut. I had to rectify the situation then with a lot of praise and insistence that he looked really good and sexy to me. I think his snicker at my haircut was reminiscent of that incident.

Sigh. It will grow out. It will grow out. It will grow out.

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