Birthdays, new years, and weddings have passed
We're having fun
Newborns, new friends, and new faces around
We're doing fine
The tears, the laughters,
The masks we wear
We're still here
Telling ourselves--
We're doing fine
The numbing pangs in our hearts
The secret sobs we let out
All washed out by the morning sun
We're doing fine
Days have turned months have turned years
Frowns have turned into smiles
--still with tears
It doesn't get easier, but
We're doing fine
We hope you're doing as well, Yangkung.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
One of the saddest things in life...
...has got to be when your baby decided to go on a nursing strike.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Eight moths of Kanti-ness
And they say your personal life's out of the window when you have kids.
Hello, blog.
It's been exactly eight months since Kanti a.k.a Cucit a.k.a Cimit a.k.a Anak was born. Let's for now skip how I'm coping with this little bouncy ball of rascal and write down some of her milestones instead.
At 4 months old, she could sit barely assisted. I should've known something was up when at such young age, she was ready to have a better view of the world.
At 5 months old, I started feeding her solid foods because she wasn't doing so well with her growth chart. Galau? Bukan main. I'd tried so hard to nurse her exclusively for six months, and had never thought there would come the time when I had to break that. But then again, I followed my instincts as a mother. And after just a few weeks of solids, her weight curve showed a significant improvement.
What was her first food? Smashed avocado. From then on, gradually she tried new foods almost every week, and thank God this solid-feeding department has been quite an easy-peasy for us. Sure, there are times she acted out and refused to eat. But so far, there's been no major drama. My key is to take it slow and not push both myself and Kanti. Mau makan homemade tim sayur, hayuk.. Makan dipotong-potong, hayuk.. Gak mau makan sama sekali? Seduh Promina. Mamah lagi males masak? Seduh Milna. Mamah bosen liat hati sapi? Seduh Cerelac.
Do I hear disapproving sizzles from Mamakokihandal and their avid followers?
Moving on. At 5.5 months old, two of her bottom teeth showed up. It was also her first fever, followed by her first cold. Modar? Of course. Luckily it happened on a weekend so Mamah was helped by Bapak. All good.
At around 6-7 months, the kid learned how to stand up and even furniture-cruise a little before she could crawl. Again, I should've prepared the house because she started to become mobile.
And just a few weeks ago, she crawled, and my fear came true; Little Miss Mobile just can't stop moving! Now the house is a mess every single day, I can't do anything without her wanting to grab everything I'm holding, my body aches from chasing her around, and I can't let my stuff lying around the house anymore.
So to sum up, it's not getting any easier each day even after eight months. But I somehow still wish she could stay this cute and small forever. Jangan cepet-cepet gede dong, Anaaaak!
Hello, blog.
It's been exactly eight months since Kanti a.k.a Cucit a.k.a Cimit a.k.a Anak was born. Let's for now skip how I'm coping with this little bouncy ball of rascal and write down some of her milestones instead.
At 4 months old, she could sit barely assisted. I should've known something was up when at such young age, she was ready to have a better view of the world.
 |
| Sitting together with Kakanda Turtles (plural, yes) |
At 5 months old, I started feeding her solid foods because she wasn't doing so well with her growth chart. Galau? Bukan main. I'd tried so hard to nurse her exclusively for six months, and had never thought there would come the time when I had to break that. But then again, I followed my instincts as a mother. And after just a few weeks of solids, her weight curve showed a significant improvement.
.jpg) |
| Looking a bit forced there... |
What was her first food? Smashed avocado. From then on, gradually she tried new foods almost every week, and thank God this solid-feeding department has been quite an easy-peasy for us. Sure, there are times she acted out and refused to eat. But so far, there's been no major drama. My key is to take it slow and not push both myself and Kanti. Mau makan homemade tim sayur, hayuk.. Makan dipotong-potong, hayuk.. Gak mau makan sama sekali? Seduh Promina. Mamah lagi males masak? Seduh Milna. Mamah bosen liat hati sapi? Seduh Cerelac.
Do I hear disapproving sizzles from Mamakokihandal and their avid followers?
Moving on. At 5.5 months old, two of her bottom teeth showed up. It was also her first fever, followed by her first cold. Modar? Of course. Luckily it happened on a weekend so Mamah was helped by Bapak. All good.
 |
| Cuddling with Bapak to soothe her first fever |
At around 6-7 months, the kid learned how to stand up and even furniture-cruise a little before she could crawl. Again, I should've prepared the house because she started to become mobile.
 |
| Oh, the mess! |
And just a few weeks ago, she crawled, and my fear came true; Little Miss Mobile just can't stop moving! Now the house is a mess every single day, I can't do anything without her wanting to grab everything I'm holding, my body aches from chasing her around, and I can't let my stuff lying around the house anymore.
 |
| Trying to open the white box at the top |
So to sum up, it's not getting any easier each day even after eight months. But I somehow still wish she could stay this cute and small forever. Jangan cepet-cepet gede dong, Anaaaak!
 |
| :* |
Sunday, December 23, 2012
The Birth Story, Part I
Let's first say hello to Bob a.k.a Nilakanti Anjani Suryoputro. Baby
Kanti was born on Nov. 15, 7.55 a.m., and obviously that is the reason
why I haven't written stuff for so long.
She's over a month old now, and slowly we're getting to know each other and how each other works. Don't ask about the lack of sleep I've had in the past month. To describe the night shifts in one word is ancur-ancuran.
Now, about her birth. I, of course, had been dreaming and aiming for a spontaneous delivery, followed by nursing her as early as I could. In my head, I'd been ready to welcome a red, fat baby in the delivery room where I and my husband would hold her with what else but joy.
In reality, none of those happened. A week before Nov. 15, my ob-gyn said a vaginal delivery was unlikely because Kanti was breech and she had her umbilical cord tied around her neck, twice. I was bummed at first, but then I decided not to fret about how she was born, as long as she was born. C-section it is.
A week later, it was time. The night before the procedure, I couldn't sleep at all. Literally hundreds of things was going through my head. But again, I didn't care as long as she was born healthy and happy.
The nurses took me to the OR at around 7 a.m. It felt like what C-section should feel like, according to what I read on the Internet. I could see from that big, round glass above my head the reflection of her being pulled out of my stomach...blue.
I kept asking one of the doctors who stayed near my head where my baby was, and how she was doing. She answered vaguely that the doctors were taking a good care of her. I could hear the sound of those suction tubes being pushed down Kanti's throat and how she let out just a few small cries. I knew something was not right, but somehow, maybe due to the epidural effect, I did not panic.
Thirty minutes later, they were done with me and I was transferred to the recovery room, still no baby. I didn't know what happened, and didn't even know how my baby looked like. A few minutes later Bangun approached me with a smile on his face, but I knew there was a story behind that smile.
Kanti, it turned out, was choked by her umbilical cord, which caused a stress and made her difficult to breathe. Or as the pediatrician said, she had asphyxia, which explained the blue little butt cheeks I saw when I saw her.
A not-breathing baby? Just about my nightmare.
When the doctors ran an initial check-up on her, she also had a hypoglycemia, or low blood sugar condition. She had to take fluid inserted through an IV, and observed in the intensive care unit for any sign of trauma after her short asphyxia. I could not breastfeed her during the most important period of her life, nor could I even hold her.
A baby kept away in the NICU? Another nightmare.
I somehow couldn't bother to cry or be sad. Maybe my emotions were still so messed up. Or maybe I knew she'd be OK in no time. I think it was a bit of both.
The nurses took her to the recovery room and I was given a chance to kiss her briefly before they continued their way to the NICU. It was then I realized we had a long road ahead of us to bring her back where she belonged; right with us in our room.
She's over a month old now, and slowly we're getting to know each other and how each other works. Don't ask about the lack of sleep I've had in the past month. To describe the night shifts in one word is ancur-ancuran.
Now, about her birth. I, of course, had been dreaming and aiming for a spontaneous delivery, followed by nursing her as early as I could. In my head, I'd been ready to welcome a red, fat baby in the delivery room where I and my husband would hold her with what else but joy.
In reality, none of those happened. A week before Nov. 15, my ob-gyn said a vaginal delivery was unlikely because Kanti was breech and she had her umbilical cord tied around her neck, twice. I was bummed at first, but then I decided not to fret about how she was born, as long as she was born. C-section it is.
A week later, it was time. The night before the procedure, I couldn't sleep at all. Literally hundreds of things was going through my head. But again, I didn't care as long as she was born healthy and happy.
The nurses took me to the OR at around 7 a.m. It felt like what C-section should feel like, according to what I read on the Internet. I could see from that big, round glass above my head the reflection of her being pulled out of my stomach...blue.
I kept asking one of the doctors who stayed near my head where my baby was, and how she was doing. She answered vaguely that the doctors were taking a good care of her. I could hear the sound of those suction tubes being pushed down Kanti's throat and how she let out just a few small cries. I knew something was not right, but somehow, maybe due to the epidural effect, I did not panic.
Thirty minutes later, they were done with me and I was transferred to the recovery room, still no baby. I didn't know what happened, and didn't even know how my baby looked like. A few minutes later Bangun approached me with a smile on his face, but I knew there was a story behind that smile.
Kanti, it turned out, was choked by her umbilical cord, which caused a stress and made her difficult to breathe. Or as the pediatrician said, she had asphyxia, which explained the blue little butt cheeks I saw when I saw her.
A not-breathing baby? Just about my nightmare.
When the doctors ran an initial check-up on her, she also had a hypoglycemia, or low blood sugar condition. She had to take fluid inserted through an IV, and observed in the intensive care unit for any sign of trauma after her short asphyxia. I could not breastfeed her during the most important period of her life, nor could I even hold her.
A baby kept away in the NICU? Another nightmare.
I somehow couldn't bother to cry or be sad. Maybe my emotions were still so messed up. Or maybe I knew she'd be OK in no time. I think it was a bit of both.
The nurses took her to the recovery room and I was given a chance to kiss her briefly before they continued their way to the NICU. It was then I realized we had a long road ahead of us to bring her back where she belonged; right with us in our room.
Friday, November 09, 2012
37w: To a man unlike many men
Today is yet another special day, Bob. You know why? Because it's your father's birthday. Your very own Bapak is turning 28!
Tsk, I still can't believe he's about to become a Bapak anytime now--nor can I believe me, a mother. But let me tell you, he does have the qualities to become one hell of a good dad, Bob. At least he's shown me what a good husband he can be during this pregnancy.
Later as you grow up, you'll learn that not many men are willing to go to the kitchen and wash the dishes without being asked to. Or help their wives with the laundry. Or mop the floor every weekend and give the wife a chance to catch a break from the weekday-routine. Or clean the bathroom just because the wife is too afraid of funny bathroom creatures such as tiny worm coming out of the drain.
Not many men are also willing to help their wives cook. Especially when the wife is sometimes too exhausted carrying the big belly, all she can do is sit down and tell the husband what to chop and what to stir.
And what about changing the sheets? It's very tricky to do it alone, and not many men want to bother to help.
But baby, your Bapak is all that, despite his obliviousness and totally non-romantic exterior. When you grow up, you better start looking for men like him because I think it'll be a little hard to find.
In the meantime, let's give him a credit for being such a marvelous 28-year-old man and sing Happy Birthday to your father, my dearest husband. May you find more happiness in life because you deserve it more than anything.
PS: Semoga household helpnya berlanjut dengan nyuci popok, mandiin anak, dll, dll, dll yaaa.
Tsk, I still can't believe he's about to become a Bapak anytime now--nor can I believe me, a mother. But let me tell you, he does have the qualities to become one hell of a good dad, Bob. At least he's shown me what a good husband he can be during this pregnancy.
Later as you grow up, you'll learn that not many men are willing to go to the kitchen and wash the dishes without being asked to. Or help their wives with the laundry. Or mop the floor every weekend and give the wife a chance to catch a break from the weekday-routine. Or clean the bathroom just because the wife is too afraid of funny bathroom creatures such as tiny worm coming out of the drain.
Not many men are also willing to help their wives cook. Especially when the wife is sometimes too exhausted carrying the big belly, all she can do is sit down and tell the husband what to chop and what to stir.
And what about changing the sheets? It's very tricky to do it alone, and not many men want to bother to help.
But baby, your Bapak is all that, despite his obliviousness and totally non-romantic exterior. When you grow up, you better start looking for men like him because I think it'll be a little hard to find.
In the meantime, let's give him a credit for being such a marvelous 28-year-old man and sing Happy Birthday to your father, my dearest husband. May you find more happiness in life because you deserve it more than anything.
PS: Semoga household helpnya berlanjut dengan nyuci popok, mandiin anak, dll, dll, dll yaaa.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
33w: Remembering Yangkung
Dear Bob,
This is a special letter to you written on a special day. Why? Because today, your dad's father would've turned 61 years old.
Every October 10th for the last three years, there's always this bittersweet pang in my heart, remembering the so many great memories I had with him and wanting so badly to have more of those memories. I knew him for about five, six years before he passed away in 2010, and that was before I married your dad and entered the family.
But you know what, Nak, even then, he always made me feel like a part of his family. He always made me feel welcomed, he always greeted me with his warm smile, and just made me feel somehow belong with the way he talked, joked, and treated me. He was a tough man, your grandfather, but there was this fatherly side of him that I found very endearing, and that's the part I miss the most now that he's gone.
Every October 10th for the last three years, there's this huge curiosity of knowing how is he doing now? What would have happened if he were still here? And there's this huge urge to just tell him how I'm doing now. How I'm happily married to his son, who's been treating me more than well especially during this pregnancy, and how he would have been so proud of your dad.
This October 10th falls on your 33rd week of living as a little peanut inside me. Last year today, I really wished that he'd been here to witness your father and I got married. Now, a few weeks before you should be born, again I wish he were here so he can hold you in his arms like the loving grandfather he was.
So, Baby Girl, here's a promise; even though he's not around anymore, I know that his charm and charisma is so strong that I will always remember him the same way for as long as I live, and together with your dad, I will keep telling you stories about what a marvelous man your Yangkung was. I'm somehow sure we will never run out of good examples in life that we can learn from him.
And every October 10th for the upcoming years, we will take a break from our daily routine to send our thoughts to him, to send him a longer prayer, wishing him the best of place that he deserves up there.
PS: I miss you, Pak.
This is a special letter to you written on a special day. Why? Because today, your dad's father would've turned 61 years old.
Every October 10th for the last three years, there's always this bittersweet pang in my heart, remembering the so many great memories I had with him and wanting so badly to have more of those memories. I knew him for about five, six years before he passed away in 2010, and that was before I married your dad and entered the family.
But you know what, Nak, even then, he always made me feel like a part of his family. He always made me feel welcomed, he always greeted me with his warm smile, and just made me feel somehow belong with the way he talked, joked, and treated me. He was a tough man, your grandfather, but there was this fatherly side of him that I found very endearing, and that's the part I miss the most now that he's gone.
Every October 10th for the last three years, there's this huge curiosity of knowing how is he doing now? What would have happened if he were still here? And there's this huge urge to just tell him how I'm doing now. How I'm happily married to his son, who's been treating me more than well especially during this pregnancy, and how he would have been so proud of your dad.
This October 10th falls on your 33rd week of living as a little peanut inside me. Last year today, I really wished that he'd been here to witness your father and I got married. Now, a few weeks before you should be born, again I wish he were here so he can hold you in his arms like the loving grandfather he was.
 |
| Here's Yangkung with your cousin Kinan. Oh how I wish it was you in his arms next month. |
So, Baby Girl, here's a promise; even though he's not around anymore, I know that his charm and charisma is so strong that I will always remember him the same way for as long as I live, and together with your dad, I will keep telling you stories about what a marvelous man your Yangkung was. I'm somehow sure we will never run out of good examples in life that we can learn from him.
And every October 10th for the upcoming years, we will take a break from our daily routine to send our thoughts to him, to send him a longer prayer, wishing him the best of place that he deserves up there.
PS: I miss you, Pak.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
32w
Dear Bob,
Before we continue, you must know that I am not one of those people who constantly update their blog. So pardon me for the untold stories from the missing weeks here.
Anyway, 32 weeks now; third trimester already. We had to wave goodbye to the quiet, joyful second trimester where there was no gagging, no heartburn, and my appetite went crazy. Now my body aches everywhere, my bladder costs me hundreds of bathroom visits all day and night, and the heartburn is back. Plus I can't eat as much as I want to anymore because you've gained a lot of weight already.
But then I just look at this:
and, cliche as it may seem, I can forget all those hassles. We finally took a 4D peek at you a couple of weeks ago and there you were, all pouting and squirming with that...er, nose. Every time I look at the still pictures, I can't wait to have the real you in my hands! I keep having dreams about labor and picturing how the process will be, but I guess no matter how I imagine it, the real deal is still gonna be different. My biggest hope now is that your father will make it to the hospital on time from Balikpapan.
However, the doctors said you're still breech. Come on, pumpkin, work with me here. Turn that tiny head upside down so you can just slide right out of me in about 7 to 8 weeks.
In the meantime, be well. We're back in Jakarta now, and let's enjoy these last few weeks of me talking to you inside my tummy.
Before we continue, you must know that I am not one of those people who constantly update their blog. So pardon me for the untold stories from the missing weeks here.
Anyway, 32 weeks now; third trimester already. We had to wave goodbye to the quiet, joyful second trimester where there was no gagging, no heartburn, and my appetite went crazy. Now my body aches everywhere, my bladder costs me hundreds of bathroom visits all day and night, and the heartburn is back. Plus I can't eat as much as I want to anymore because you've gained a lot of weight already.
But then I just look at this:
and, cliche as it may seem, I can forget all those hassles. We finally took a 4D peek at you a couple of weeks ago and there you were, all pouting and squirming with that...er, nose. Every time I look at the still pictures, I can't wait to have the real you in my hands! I keep having dreams about labor and picturing how the process will be, but I guess no matter how I imagine it, the real deal is still gonna be different. My biggest hope now is that your father will make it to the hospital on time from Balikpapan.
However, the doctors said you're still breech. Come on, pumpkin, work with me here. Turn that tiny head upside down so you can just slide right out of me in about 7 to 8 weeks.
In the meantime, be well. We're back in Jakarta now, and let's enjoy these last few weeks of me talking to you inside my tummy.
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