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My Tw|t Garden
Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Gosh, the weekend wasn't really the most fantastic one.




In fact. It was the worst.




And we were supposed to have a nice cool celebration.




No details, so tired to keep repeating myself, even if it were to myself. Duh.




Expect and you disappoint.




That's all in a gist I guess.




I am definitely the one to be majorly blamed... blame it on the hormones, the fatigue, the constant giddiness and nauseous feeling.




I just wished I had more empathy.




I hate being pregnant.

Friday, September 24, 2010

I told him about the plans. Even right up to the secret birthday gift. I'm such a loser.




You see, I can never, ever manage to keep any secrets from him. That is exactly why all the years of painstakingly planned surprises always ended up as no-surprises.




This year, I thought I'd do the planning late. So I only had to keep my big mouth shut for a shorter period of time. Alas! I had to do it again.




The good thing was... He was still happy anyway.




Just no woah! kinda surprise.




There is just one more though. One more I didn't let him in on. This one, I'm so going to keep.




Fingers crossed!

Thursday, September 23, 2010

This time it really sucks big time.




My one and only craving is for the ultimate kind of food that'll burn a hole in his pocket.




And the only probable solution to my all-day morning sickness is sleep. Beauty sleep 24-7 if possible.




I don't feel like talking, eating, dressing up. In fact, I feel like dying half the time I'm awake.




Then there is my favourite who wishes to talk to only 'mommy' and addresses 'mommy' to his every speech, with no break in between. I've gotten so used to casually 'mmm-ing' and 'ah-ing' to his self-conversations that he actually commented one day that "Mummy I wasn't talking to you, you don't have to answer me you know".




And the little fat baby who gets sick every other two days and insists that I carry him each time he catches me in sight.




I'm just. So. Tired.




Yet its imperative that I please everybody.




I hope he understands. Yet I know for a fact that he has his needs to be fulfilled too. Having a pregnant wife doesn't justifies the fact that his needs have to be forfeited.




So what am I to do?




I don't even wanna go to the part where external gratification may solve the problem.




That thought just makes me even more depressed.




I'm just gonna think positive; act that way. Otherwise I'm just going to sink deeper into recess. And regress into the dark side.




Sigh. All the lamenting and ramblings are not really helping.




I'm just going to stop writing now.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Tired. Of having to battle this everyday.




I wonder when I'm really going to walk out of this shadow.




Sometimes I really feel like giving up. Because I have no resolution not to.




Its been almost three years yet I feel as if it was yesterday.




I wished and wished it didn't happen to me.




I wished and wished I didn't have to deal with this.




But look at what good came out of it... still... is it really worth it?




I know. Its the pregnancy-induced depressive state I'm in right now.




Eight months down the road, I'll be good as new, thinking that life couldn't be better if God has not planned this for us to endure.




I'm still stuck between two time zones... the other half reluctant to move beyond forgiveness.




Forgiveness that'll release me. Not her. Me.




I'm so silly to hang myself up to torture.




Matt's wife died four years ago; he's still writing about her, mines' not even three. I should have some reason not to stop right?




Love and hate are really just one line that delineates. I guess its all the same.




I'm so going to throw up right now.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Sigh. Finally dropped my favorite off at the childcare. Head spinning and stomach flipping as usual.




Today is our PUBLIC TRANSPORT day. Because our head of the household needs to be in camp by 7.30am. I know, you don't wanna hear the details.




I'm on another vomit inducing, head smashing journey to work.




I hate being pregnant.




And I hate all the idiots in this world.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

It's really a big difference between private institutions and restructured ones.




I wanted to send a patient to emergency department earlier on and the staff told me the patient had to wait. She had many patients and admission to attend to.




Well that alone made me empathize with them so I thought I'd go down personally to see that my VVIP patient doesn't wait too LONG.




When I went down... There were like... Three patients waiting. THREE! And the staff nurse was nowhere attending to anyone of them. She was hidden behind the counter doing NOTHING!




But she still insisted that my VVIP had to wait despite me showing her the documents that it is NOT CLEVER to make them wait.




In the end... I offered to take blood for the ED staff nurse who was SO busy.




The VVIP saw everything in his eyes and told me personally that he really appreciated what I did because he expected the staff to make his wife wait forever.




The ED staff really got eyes dunno how to see Tarzan... Die die!


We've got a seven-seater as a loan vehicle whilst the damaged one is being repaired.




Isaac wants this current one to stay permanently. Oh he loves the extra seats. Ian too.




Yeah, will need to get one soon. When the third kid arrives.




Everyday still sucks. Mainly because I keep retching and get giddy all the time. Yet work and kids are constantly on my mind. Thus my poor husband ended up bearing the brunt of it... I'm so hot tempered and impatient these days.




And the nicest things he does still seem insufficient despite myself.




I know it's the hormones. And I'm super apologetic about being the nasty bitxh.




I hope he's holding up good. It appears that he may just explode anytime too.




Well, nevertheless, life's been pretty awesome and challenging. And I absolutely love my husband!

Friday, September 10, 2010

So sleepy....




Sitting at Subway waiting for his photography session to end. It's the Gundam exhibition.




I didn't join him because I was feeling tired. And nauseated. And giddy. And bloated. And....




I need a bed.




The breastmilk cooler bag cost half a hundred bucks. (we bought one to replace a torn one I've been using and refusing to throw)




This bag could hold like eight bottles of expressed breastmilk (EBM).




At least that's what he said.




I reckon at most six.




Good thing is that I don't need to store a pump. I use manual technique. You know, like milking a cow? Yeah. Literally.




Have given numerous teaching sessions to friends and colleagues. Somehow it may not be as efficient as an automated twin pump, nevertheless it's definitely more nipple-friendly. Less traumatic (if you're thinking of pumping for at least three years).




Does he realize that it's been almost an hour since he's been gone?!




I can't even think of witty things to write anymore.




Now I'm resorting to writing about expressing milk?!




My eyelids are shutting as I'm writing.




Freaking engrossed man.




I've even finished all the drinks on the table.




Oh I desperately need a bed.




Did I write about that already?




^#~_€¥€=##%\|•

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Sad so sad.




Hurts so painful.




Didn't know it'd be so until it is so.




Anytime, anytime at all, I'll still feel the pain. Yeah. Pain.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

So I write whenever I have the time. And the ease of it makes it all the more enjoyable.




This blogger app is really spoiling me.




Spent a wonderful evening with my favorite.




Had dinner with him at Kopitiam, he played some games, watched a few "penguins" climb up the stairs... Then I took the long route drive home with him by my side.




It dawned on me ages ago that I get especially short tempered with him when his daddy is around... Mainly because I wanted everything to go smoothly and not spoil his daddy's mood... It never did; not with this dilly-dallier son of mine.




Without his daddy, I'm able to tolerate his slow pace of life, incessant talking, even his ladylike walk.




He is such a darling. Wanting to sit close to me cos he loves me, waits for red light before telling me he wanna pee (well, he pees into a plastic bag in the car).




I love my favorite.





:)


Rather than lamenting about my current state of life right now... I've decided to write something positive today.




Isaac is putting on weight despite being sick half the time... Ian is still smiley faced despite losing sleep due to some nagging pain (that I'm clueless about) and a high fever (yes, AGAIN!) since yesterday.




I'm taking things easy despite the weird outburst last night and this morning, and surprisingly, when I try to accommodate my spouse's temperament, the nausea and giddiness and FATIGUE seems less of an irritant.




My man is his usual self, angry at nothing and thereafter angry at himself getting angry at NOTHING.




It's cute. I just find him weird to be triggered by the most negligible thing. Like the baby's endless crying (cos the poor chap was sooo tired but couldn't sleep due to unexplained discomfort)...




I try not to attribute it to my worthlessness last night, and this morning. I tried; instead, to think of all the times when I felt weepy and he was there holding my hands; no questions asked.




I have my weaknesses, he has his. I just have to make do with them and not nit-pick too much.




Besides, he's not feeling well himself... And he has the children and ME to look after.




See. I'm thinking positive today.




I'm just darn hoping that I can sleep forever until the baby arrives. Not that I feel depressed or anything...




It's just extreme tiredness.




It's tired being a cow and a sow all at the same time.




Mooink!

Monday, September 6, 2010

Bad, bad day. Many more such bad days ahead. I hate being pregnant.




I hate the giddy, nauseated feeling I have 24-7.




I think I'm anemic.




Then again, I think even if I am, I won't take my iron tablets.




I hate swallowing medication. I hate medication.




My only saving grace is that I still have a very tolerant husband who caters to every bit of my whims and complaints.




The children are still sick. Forever having chesty coughs and runny noses. I'm getting quite weak in physical state to really entertain them like I used to. Age is really catching up on me. Either that, or breastfeeding whilst pregnant is really not my cup of tea.




Feel bad for he whose name means laughter (Isaac). With the third one coming, I wonder if he'd ever have enough of love from his parents. I must clarify that we do try. Maybe occasionally we tend to give less... Only because he simply put our patience to test too many times!




This time I should get my unborn baby to buy him a nice-to-meet-you-big-brother gift instead. Previously isaac bought one for Ian.




Perhaps this time, Isaac would have more interest in sharing his toys with this baby.




Sibling rivalry.




Shucks my migraine is coming on again.




Sigh.

Friday, September 3, 2010

The pain is not excruciating, but it's still a pain.




Seriously doubt I'd miscarry. But the thought fleetingly passed through my mind.




I know for a fact that prolonged walking and standing wouldn't harm the fetus in any way. That's why I didn't complain.




I know feeling giddy and nauseated and in need of peeing yet thirsty are part and parcel of breastfeeding in pregnancy; I see no need in complaining either.




I did not expect him to read my mind and facial expression at all.




All I ask... Is at the first sight of me squatting down - he'd think I'm in terrible pain rather than I'm disgracing him.




I remembered years back when I had a terrible bout of diarrhea; so bad that I had to go every five minutes, I squatted down because I was super giddy and weak in the knees. He gave me that SAME angry look and told me to get up immediately.




I did not get to hear him just now. But I remembered that LOOK.




You would ask me why squat when you know he'd feel disgraced?




Erm... Because I was really gonna faint stat if I don't?




If I were gonna faint immediately, would I have the time to tell him and wait for him to find me a place to rest? My sense of logic would have already assessed the area and common sense would've told me that no way in ten seconds would I have been rested before a fainting spell.




I know I disgrace him all the time.




This is one. Then there's this constant trying of free food. And talking too loudly. And dressing weird. And eating in the most unladylike manner. And looking ugly. And....





There's just too many to list.




I'm totally devastated now.




Maybe it's my pregnancy increasing my sensitivity to the situation. But I'm crying myself silly in front of everyone in the train.




Writing managed to stop my crying.




Phew.




Tomorrow, I'll just have to wake up thinking it's my fault and how I've overreacted and mishandled the situation.




I wished I'd knew better how to react.




Because right there and then...




I really felt like dirt in his eyes, birdshit on his car, ear wax in his ears.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I'm starting to freak out. Period.




Breastfeeding and carrying a child in my womb is not the most exciting event. E.V.E.R.




I have to make sure I take enough nutrients for both kids. And not to mention yours truly.




I know the reason why I'm hungry all the time, yet I can't help thinking how ugly I'd become. Again.




I thought I'd be done with looking like a potato forever. But alas!




I hate looking like a potato.




I hate my swollen big face and thick extremities.




I hate passing urine all the time.




I hate tiredness.




I wish the baby would grow inside Chris instead of me.




Please let me lament. I'm so resigned to fate now; I just need reality to sink in before I start pulling my socks up and work hard to look just as good as a fat potato.




The next thing I know... I'll be on my way to skinnyhood again.




On hindsight... It sure feels good to be eating again.




I know.





I'm such a prick.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Yes. I'm pregnant again.




No. I didn't plan for this. Again.




You know you are darn lucky when your menstruation does not return after your delivery of your second child; but somehow managed to create the embryo.




For all who are any wiser... Well... The first ovulated ovum (after giving birth) of my very well maintained female reproductive organ, has managed to meet up with some sneakily strong swimmer and fused to form what you call an embryo. Yes. An embryo. Not yet a fetus.




I'm very darn sure it'll BECOME a fetus. And it'll grow pretty well in my (as my helper would call it) "mattress".




Despite all my jumping, running, heavy lifting, climbing... I knew that this kid is going to thrive.




All my kids do. This one will not make the difference.




How does one couple handle three children and a budding romance?




I think we should do just fine... Provided I keep all stressors away from my husband.




How to? When the natural instinct of the male since evolution, is to feed and provide for the women and children?




He is taking it SO in his stride... Like if all else fails there is still him around to hold my hand... I'm touched. Deeply. And most determined that he is the best man most suited for my cynicism.




Yes, I know I hate menses. But I didn't say I don't want it for four straight years!




OMG. This is so unbelievable. I'm still in denial.




And no, I'm not the superstitious kind. If I should tell the world that I'm pregnant before the first trimester is up, and I lose the baby, I'm not going to blame my big heart for that. Good news are meant to be shared.




And I wanna share it with YOU. Yes, you.




In case you have some spare cash... I wouldn't really mind some.




I need A LOT. I mean really.




Tell me again... How do you raise three kids in Singapore?




Shucks, my migraine is starting again. All the numbers are killing me. (@@)||




And I haven't got to the part where I need to kill myself if I have three SONS to raise. *faints*




Believe me. You won't wanna hear it.




Oh. My. God.