3 months ago, I was so desperate to leave everything behind. I was planning all sorts of strategies to press ‘x’ button and make my exit. I reached out to all my friends, finding parachutes to jump off the flying chopper.

Things changed. My mind changed.

I’m finally back on my two feet! Never felt better, that 2-months leave definitely did me good. I get to skip on all the stressful part of my job and take a breather after the challenging 2 years. The first few weeks of work, I whistled my way to work. The feeling of grabbing my usual iced latte a minute walk away from office made me giddy every day (but not my bank account :p).

Ahhh..all the stress and anxiety made me forget why I did enjoy my workplace at the first place.

Despite all the Plan B’s I’ve been thinking out loud, I decided to delay it for a little while. I wish to take another pause button and enjoy my present life. I guess whatever makes me feel happy and content. Life is a journey after all, I should decide where to go and how to arrive. And whether I want to stay in a place for a long time or move from time to time.

You did good Hanisah *pats self in the back*

You experienced everything your 18 y/o self was writing about in her diary. Some things might be a lil different, younger you would have been proud and in awe.

NP – Go! by Dokyeom, Twenty Five Twenty One OST.

Confine-(d)-ment

3 more weeks before I will officially return to office. I am enjoying the paid 2 months leave that I am so not looking forward to return (not guilty). The work is so stressful with Covid around and I honestly just want to pack and leave.

Confinement is exactly how it spells, confine + d. I was already anxious and nail-biting frustrated by the third week — wishing I could step outside and suck that outside air and sight. I thought I can stand just watching tv for one month straight, but I ran out of good shows by then.

Now that I calmed down after slowly losing it after the third week (lucky the mood swing didn’t last that long) I am stuck with the new TV Show that just started. The longer my to-do-list, the lazier I have gotten. Urgh, typical Hanisah being unnecessarily stubborn.

Anyway, my mantra is now to take one step at a time. Trying to get everything together is just making me lose my shit. So I will keep on planning and executing — but if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be flexible. I do, however, need to remind myself that don’t worry about future too much. If it’s meant to be, it will be (It will happen if Allah wills it to happen).

January 2022 – Story of my loss.

After enjoying the baby kicking for a week in late December, it was silent for the whole new year’s weekends. My maternal instinct kicked in, but I brushed it off. Thinking that I was already approaching 7 months, I was sure that I was being paranoid.

I figured waiting for my monthly appointment won’t hurt. It was just another 2 more days.

Well, it hurts.

As much as I have said it out loud that I’m ready if this ever happened at any point in time, my tears still trickled down. Seeing it with my own eyes that the heartbeat was no longer there, listening to the doctors’ confirming the death of the baby, and just having to deal with everything on my own on the day, I couldn’t hide my sadness.

I was shocked, scared…and…sad.

How do I tell people that I lost the baby…?
How do I tell Rafiq that I lost our baby..?

We were then referred to the hospital to get the death confirmed. Then, we were given options: 1) Get admitted and induced to deliver the baby instantly, or 2) Attend weekly appointment, until there are signs for labor.

It took me a while to process everything. The fear of getting admitted and induced. The worry about my job left hanging when there’s a due date that cannot be missed. The anxiety of the uncertainties — am I gonna get the labor sign early? will I be getting sepsis if I wait any longer? do I need to get admitted more than once if the induce doesn’t work with my body? how much pain will it be?

A week after, I finally decided to get admitted and induced since there were no signs of labor. A piece of advice as someone who has never been hospitalised: pack yourself an extra blanket, pairs of socks and a pillow. I was discharged with an aching back and shoulders — the pillow was as solid as rock 😒 .

Day 1: 13 January (Thursday)

Changed into the hospital gown and gotten branula inserted. I thought I learned my lesson and tried to get the needle inserted in my left hand instead. Boy, I was wrong. My left hand’s vein is not in a position that will allow it. In the end, I bruised my left hand and get poked on my right hand — and yes, the bruise is still visible as I’m writing this down.

While waiting for tomorrow to come, all I did was talked on the phone and watched Emily in Paris and Our Beloved Summer. I was still calm but felt slightly feverish due to the high air-cond temperature.

Day 2: 14 January (Friday)

I received my first dose of induction first thing in the morning. Super uncomfortable and painful 😖 I needed to lie down for 1 hour to let the medicine dissolve and strangely, the pain went away. Deep down, I was disappointed because I know my body was not reacting to the medicine and I have to go through it again in the evening.

At 3 pm, I received the 2nd dose and the pain score is double the amount than in the morning. I secretly cried under the blanket, felt so helpless having no one at my side 😭 After an hour passed, the pain did not subside and I started to get painful cramps on my thighs and tightened stomach. It gotten worse at night and I received a painkiller jab on my butt at 10pm. I remember I slept through the evening and night until the pain woke me up again at 2 am. I didn’t want to be so whiney so I tried to just hold on.

Day 3: 15 January (Saturday)

At 5am, I gave in and pressed that ‘Help Me’ button. I didn’t instantly received the painkiller, but the 2nd jab was no help at all. The pain continued to worsen but the doctor couldn’t do anything since the opening in only 1 cm when they checked at 7am.

Everyone texted to check in but I couldn’t reply. The contraction (I WAS NOT AWARE THAT IT WAS ALREADY A CONTRACTION) was so painful and frequent — from every 10 minutes to every 5 minutes then to every 3 minutes. By the time Rafiq called, there were no longer any interval and the pain just keeps getting worse. and worse.

Suddenly I felt liquids streaming down…so, I went to the toilet. I was already bleeding and in so much pain that I couldn’t stand on my feet. Called the nurse and get my opening checked — it was already 5cm. At that point of time, my instinct was urging me to let my poop out (but no poop was involved) to relieve the pain. Little did I know, I was already in labor and trying to push the baby out.

The nurse is still calling the doctor and it felt like the longest time ever. Am I not in an emergency enough???

I was then pushed to the labor room in a wheelchair — innately shouted I-can’t-remember-what to resist from getting the baby pushed out in the middle of the walkway. When I arrived, the baby was out after 2 pushes. And I remember the feeling how the pain instantly vanished and relieved that it was finally over..

Maryam binti Mohamed Rafiq, my first daughter.

I couldn’t really see her face very clearly (I was not wearing my glasses), nor I have the courage to hold her in my arms. I don’t think I will ever have the strength to talk about the whole experience to anyone without tearing up.

But I am physically healing well — wearing socks, getting massages treatment, strictly no iced water or fried dishes, encouraged to do absolutely nothing and free flow of tv shows all day all night. Just a bit of flabby tummy and digestive problems to deal with.

…and that, shall be reserved for another blog post.