50 Ringgit Girl

 It has been 13 months postpartum and yes, my head still messy.  The initial newborn survival fog has lifted, but now there is this quiet, strange pressure lingering in the background: I need to find myself again. Like now! It's urging me to. I think it's not just me. So many of us mothers fall into that trap. We steal fifteen minutes whilst our baby naps, keep an eye on the clock, and secretly search for the girl we used to be before motherhood. The one with uninterrupted thoughts, slimmer version of herself, full nights of sleep, and only herself to look after. We tell ourselves that healing means digging up that old version and piecing her back together, and honestly this episodes does not happen once, twice thrice, but a lot! Like over and over again. Today, whilst waiting for Idris to wake up, I sat down and started writing: “I am reprogramming myself. I don’t want to find myself again, because I will never find that previous version. The correct phrase is rebuilding me. ...

CJ Idris Turned One CJ Idris turned one. Alhamdulillah.  And somehow, that also means I survived one whole year postpartum. And it's not me alone. My husband too.  I still couldn’t believe how in the worldddd I became a mother. Not even a month of being a wife, and suddenly I became a mother. You know what I mean? Tak sempat nak adapt as a wife, then suddenly a mother? Whuuttt?! HAHAHA! But it happened, you know. And as I’m writing this, I suddenly got a flashback of all the times I prayed for this. Like gazillion times. I prayed for this, and then pap! Allah gave him to me just like that. And now he is in his ONE+ ERA. My husband and I learnt so many things after having Idris. Like, really. So many things about each other, about ourselves, about marriage, and about life. Sabr is the key. Ya, I know. But you see, it’s easier said than done. There were days when patience felt so far away. Days when both of us were tired, like crazy and overwhelmed (mostly me being this way) an...

Every time I think about my labor, there’s a mix of feelings I still can’t fully understand. There’s a void—something I might not be able to make sense of now, but maybe later, Inshaa’Allah. So I write it down, because every time I do, my eyes well up. This isn’t just a birth story; it’s a reminder of how Allah planned everything better than I could have ever imagined. My due date was 26/08. But on 23/08, I spotted blood. We didn’t rush straight to the hospital. Instead, I calmly checked our hospital bag again, took a bath, and tried to steady myself. Only then we went.  The doctor checked me—my cervix wasn’t even 1cm. Then came the news: Oligo. My amniotic fluid was decreasing. To avoid baby distress, they decided to induce me with a balloon. The next day, I only reached 3cm. That was all, even after the balloon induction.  Contractions were so strong, so strong—but my body just wasn’t progressing. By midday on the 25th, the doctor broke my water. Finally, 4cm. I was moved ...