Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

With pregnancy, one’s sense of smell becomes heightened. And for me, it is a whole new experience as my nose has never actually been that ‘finely tuned’ anyway.
(I’ve eaten a small heart-shaped bar of soap, thinking it was chocolate because I couldn’t detect its fragrant smell of lavender).

These days, I can smell a bag of Twisties while in a packed hall and detect exactly where that salty aroma is coming from.

The unpleasant thing about my new-found powers is that I’ve become extremely sensitive to distasteful odors.
And when you’re suffering from nausea, ALL smells are distasteful. The succulent smell of hot Hawaiian pizza never failed to tickle my appetite… now, even a slight whiff of it tickles my gag reflex.

And to me, the worse worse WORST smell is that of cigarette smoke.

I’ve never had a problem with it before. I don’t smoke but I used to be a litigator, remember? Cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, pipe smoke… These smells permeated court corridors, bar rooms and client conference rooms. No biggie. Hardly ever noticed the smell.

Now, even a slight hint of cigarette smoke makes me lurch.

I’ve become so sensitive to it, that I can now detect what kind of cigarette brand the odor is coming from. I’ve become so sensitive to it, I can even sense from where it is emanating from, despite the smoker being concealed behind a heavy velvet curtain by a large cement pillar beside a potted plant.

The slight whiff of cigarette smoke triggers an automatic reaction in me.
Immediate nausea and queasiness followed by an irrepressible desire to throw up.

It’s a disgusting smell. Disgusting, revolting, AWFUL smell.

And it triggers a secondary reaction in me.

I start to scheme and plot the untimely death of the smoker.
While I sit there, fanning the air in front of me like a primadonna, my brain will be on full scheming mode.

I fantasize about snatching the villain from his chair, dragging him out by the dark alley; violently grab the damn cancer-stick from his mouth and stuffing it up his left nostril. Then I’d brutally search his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, light each one of ‘em up, and stuff it up his ass, roaring at him “SMOKE ‘EM NOW, BUSTER!!!” while I cram his ears full of lighted matches.

…………….

I’m going to be such a kind, gentle mother, aren’t I?

To paraphrase the government slogan...
Katakan TAK NAK, or die.

Life's a tough proposition, and the first hundred years are the hardest.Wilson Mizner (1876 - 1933)

How tough are you?
Do you have a low threshold of pain?
Or are you one of those bizarre people who can break an arm and continue your tennis game?

I’ve been asking myself these questions lately.
I’ve always prided myself in being pretty tough.

When I was a child, skinned knees and bumps on the head were all so familiar to me. No big deal. I crashed my bike a zillion times, fell in the big longkang a couple of times and rolled head-over-heels down a hill on my skateboard more times than I can remember. But every time, I got up smiling.
The thrill was worth the pain.

This lunacy spilled over into my teenage years.
I remember when I was 16 and was running the 200m race during sports day. Half-way through the race, I tripped and twisted my ankle. But because the crowd was screaming and my parents were in the stands, I got up, grimaced, clenched my fist and continued the race. Came in 3rd.
The pain was horrific but I labored on, my eyes on the finishing line.

And I also remember the day I accidentally tore-up my wrist.
How the heck did I manage to do that?
Well, according to my dad, if it’s capable of breaking, tearing or musnah’ing, Diha will find a way to do it.
A sarcastic man, my dad.

It was a simple, stupid accident actually. I tried to open a window by pushing it with my wrist instead of using the little lever. The gash was very deep – I could see my flesh, veins and bones. Blood was spurting out like crimson fountains.
An awful sight. And the pain was ghastly too.
But I slept all through the surgery and a couple of days after the incident, I was hiking up to Bakun dam with my family and friends.

Diha perasan tough.

When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918 - ), "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art", 1980

But am I REALLY as tough as I THINK I am?
Will I be able to endure the pain of childbirth?
Will I bear the anguish of labor pains with dignity?
Or will I be screaming like a banshee and lashing out at well-meaning nurses?
Or worse…
Will I give up in the face of torment and endanger the baby?

I guess this is what it means about being grown-up.
When one’s actions are not one’s own to bear.

If the pain is something only I have to endure and there are no consequences to be borne by others, I’m all for it.
Ok’lah, I’m not ‘all for it’, but I can tolerate it, insyaAllah.

But if the pain is one which may imperil the people I love... that’s a different matter altogether.

Before I got married, I was quite a risk-taker.
I drove like a speed-demon. I wasn’t careful about what I ate (I know what fried grasshopper tastes like... And I know what most flowers taste like too...)
I wanted to bungee-jump, sky-dive, parachute off a cliff, that kinda thing. My parents were not too keen on their eldest daughter being such a foolish daredevil and more often than not, they’d put their foot down and ‘forbid such idiocies”.

After I got married, nobody needed to ‘forbid’ anything anymore. The only thing I would do is snorkel and parasail. I’d look at a bungee-jumper and I’d sigh in admiration but I don’t bug my parents to let me have a try.
Why?
Because now, I have a husband to think about.
If I did something risky like bungee-jump and then I died, he’d kill me.

Gone are the days when I was a selfish, egotistical, thoughtless individual.
(Okay la... it’s not ALL gone but I’m much LESS so! Now, stop snorting.)

Now that I’m counting the days to mommyhood, I’ve got to learn to be selfless and considerate. It’s not about Me Me Me Me anymore. I’m no longer a 'young lady' or a ‘newlywed’ – I have a family of my own now.

Am I tough enough to make this change?

Lets hope so.

You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
Rosalynn Carter (1927 - )

Amazing Sights

I’ve seen a lot of amazing sights in the course of my life.

The Kaabah, during my first trip to the Holy City of Makkah

I was barely in my teens. Full of youthful naïveté while the beginnings of adolescent rebellion was gaining a foothold in me.
The family trip to perform the Umrah was the perfect balm.
I had a lump in my throat when I saw the beauty of the Kaabah. Some may argue that there’s nothing exceptionally beautiful about a cube covered in a black cloth, but trust me… It was beautiful. The symbol of Islam stood firmly while Muslims methodically circled it, murmuring prayers.
Peace and serenity simply radiated from the scene.

The Washington Monument in Washington DC
I really don’t know why I was so impressed with this simple four-sided stone structure. My friends who went with me didn’t seem that awed by it. But to me, it was a lovely sight. It was nearly sunset on a freezing winter’s day, and the monument was reflected in the still waters of The Reflecting Pool. The 50 flags that surround the base of the monument danced in the gentle wind.
A beautiful picture of soothing tranquility.

KL Sky-line from the Highway
Born and bred in Kuala Lumpur, I have always loved the sights and sounds of KL. Yes, the traffic can be horrendous but whenever I travel to rural areas, I find myself getting antsy because of the lack of traffic (example: During our trip to Tg. Jara, we were driving around looking for food in the dead of the night at Dungun. It was so quiet and still so my poor husband was flabbergasted when I suddenly yelped upon seeing a traffic jam at a junction. To me, it was a nice sign of civilization.) Anyway, I remember coming home from a trip to Taiping. We were accompanied by torrential rain and the wicked symphony of thunder. Upon reaching a slight incline in the road, the sky suddenly began to clear and up ahead, I saw the KL skyline. Finally. Home sweet home.
The City of Lights, indeed

These are only 3 of the amazing sights that I’ve had the privilege of enjoying during my 27 years of life.

Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.
Miriam Beard

Yesterday, I saw another one.

Wan and I went for our 2nd appointment with the obgyn. She conducted another ultra-sound on me. The last time, I could barely see anything on the screen.
Yesterday, we saw our baby.
And we also had the pleasure of hearing the gentle heartbeat.

I lay there on the bed and soaked it in.
The doctor’s heartening words that the baby was doing fine, alhamdulillah.
The laughing smile of the nurse as I blurted out “Oh my God! It has a heartbeat!” while the doctor kindly chuckled “Of course it does. It’s a living thing, dear.” The smile of the doting father as he insisted on recording the entire experience (Fortunately, Dr. Fauziah didn’t mind at all... she seemed quite amused).
Most of all, I soaked in the gradual awareness that my body was giving refuge to another soul. Another human being. Another person. My child.

The doctor then pointed out a blinking dot on the screen and said “That’s the baby’s heart beating. You can see it now.”I turned and saw it.
It was like a bright, twinkling star. A beautiful illuminated glimmer. A steady sparkle on the dark screen.

And THAT was the Most Amazing Sight I’ve EVER seen.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust (1871 - 1922)

News from the Muse

I know, I know… I’ve been a terrible excuse for a blogger. But if you allow me a couple of minutes to explain what has been going on in my life, you’ll understand why.

The last you heard from me, I was off on mini-holidays with my husband and living the life of luxury (read: laziness) at home.

Well, I’ve got updated news for you.

I’ve started on my new career at PWC. My first day of work was on Monday, 10th April 2006. I like it here. In a nutshell, work has been very satisfying. I get to use my legal training and at the same time, I’m learning all about the nitty-gritty lifestyle of a corporate player. The work environment here is also vastly different from that of a legal firm. Not less work, but less stress, less pressure, less demands. An American firm ran by Chinese, imagine the efficiency! I don’t want to gush so much; its way too soon for that. Suffice to say, I’m glad I made the leap. And the biggest reason I’m glad I’m no longer a litigator, is because of the other news I have to share.

Wan & I are expecting our firstborn on 17th November 2006.

We made the decision to start a family early this year; call it a New Year’s Resolution. It was never a dispute that both of us love children and want our own. We even had the names all planned out. It’s just that this year, we felt that we were ready – and it looks like God concurred :)
How do I feel?
Physically?
Nauseous.
Hehe. For the first time in my life, I know what nausea feels like. I’ve never gotten car-sickness or sea-sick or any kind of sickness that makes me feel like vomiting all the time. So this yucky, icky taste of nausea I’m faced with now is very new to me, and leaves me rather weak. And no, asam does not help me.
Emotionally?
Thrilled, excited, nervous, anxious, elated – an amalgamation of emotions, really. In one minute, we’re worried that maybe we’re not sufficiently equipped with the trappings of parenthood. The next minute, we’re eagerly counting the days for the arrival of our firstborn. We talk about our child all the time. Imagine how we’ll be when the child is actually born!

So there you go.
I, Mediha Mahmood, am pregnant.

Pray it all goes well, insyaAllah…

A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.
Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967)