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To (Kind) Strangers

22 Oct posted by
hush

… who are annoyed by our kids.

I’m so sorry we ruin your dining-out experience with your loved one. It’s just we gotta bring our kids out because noone watches them at home. At this point, we still don’t trust a babysitter to watch them in our house. We’re tired of eating at Chick-fil-A and Applebee’s and now we really want to have good sushi. This fancy restaurant is the only place that serves good sushi in town. I’m not eating sushi from Chinese Buffet restaurant, I’m not. And I’m not taking salmon sashimi home.

I’m so sorry that our kids talk a little louder than they’re supposed to. And one of them climbs out her high-chair, gets to your table, and interrupts your dinner by saying “hi” and acting silly. I train my kids to behave in public, but once in awhile, they fail us, they really do.

I’m so sorry that my kids run around at grocery stores. Because everything looks new to them, everything excites them. But you have to believe me, I try hard for them not bothering anyone. Most of the time they agree to stay in the shopping cart, but after awhile they want to get out and see what’s happening. Bless Basha’s with its supervised play center Cub House. But you cannot expect us to shop there all the time. We need to be pretentious too, we sometimes shop at AJ’s Fine Foods.

But most of all, I’m so very sorry, my kids cried for many-many hours in the plane from LA to Tokyo. I miscalculated, I thought my then 9-months-old twins would make a great international traveler even would have their own frequent flyer card. I’m still traumatized to travel because it was simply painful for me to watch them cry, but it really was unfair for you to experience that too.

As a parent with younger kids, I try to minimize the uncomfortable situation with you strangers, by calculating the feasibility of taking my kids to public place. I discipline them and when they really act out, you bet I would remove them from the venue and take them home. But once in awhile our guard is weaken and unpredictable event becomes unavoidable. There’s always shitty moment, and we beg you to understand.

We parents with younger kids just ask for your kindness, to have a never-ending tolerance for these little people that somehow cross their path with you. I know they are not even yours yet they often step in your comfort zone and ruin your mood. But hey, sometimes in life we have to deal with things that are not pleasant.

And for what it’s worth, we’re all once little kid.

Sincerely,

Uly Siregar
A mother of soon-to-be 5 years old, and 2 years old twins.

This has been a guest post by one of my Indonesian friend/blogger/writer. She’s an awesome writer, her writing has been featured on Indonesian magazines (pssst, she used to have her own sex column).  Uly Siregar is a former Indonesian journalist, currently a contributor for a newspaper in Jakarta and a grad student. She lives in a quiet suburb in Arizona with a husband and three little girl. Read more about Uly Siregar and please show her some love.

9 Comments
Filed Under: Guest Post

Book of Memories

16 Oct posted by
Lil' A & Elvis

Cried myself some happy tears today…

Three years ago between moving around between three countries, between trying to work on the marriage, between culture shocks of living in China and reverse culture shock of moving back to my home country…

Thought I had lost this book.

Until one hot Sunday afternoon while digging into boxes after boxes of my family stuffs I saw it…

It lays on the top shelf of my father’s bookcase, covered in dust from God only knows how long it’s been there for.

My heart beat faster as I wiped the dust off. Tracing the plastic covered front…

“Days of Discovery”

Winnie the Pooh and Piglet welcome my finger as I traced the cover.

A piece of glossy photo paper fell through as I opened the book.

“It’s a boy!”

A picture of you laying on your tummy with our beloved Elvis faithfully by your side just the way he used to watched you until his very last days.

A smile drew on my face as I read the words on your Birth Announcement/Thank You card.

As I flipped to the “A Very Grand Thing…Is About To Happen” pages my heart was swollen with love.

Reading through my cravings records, I smiled again remembering how your father had finally found some ‘spicy’ fried chicken at Church’s or how my friend in Las Vegas had to mail me some traditional Indonesian snacks.

Of how pre-natal classes were a no go because all classes were conflicted with your father’s work schedule and I couldn’t drive.

Gratitude flushes me over as memories of how a dear dear friend from Birmingham, AL had arranged my baby shower just to be forced to cancel it on last minute because I was hospitalized and were forced to stay in bed. They surprised me by coming all the way to Dothan and gave me the baby shower…that’s almost 200miles driving. These people hold special place in my heart.

Handwritten names of my Indonesian friends in Alabama who sent presents were written down on the book, even when they couldn’t make it. It was still one of the sweetest surprises I ever had.

6 pounds, 5 ounces and 20 inches long…

Your entrance was in such a little unexpected-mad-dash-way. Mentally, I wasn’t ready although my severe preeclampsia has been threatening since the 30th week. I never even know what contractions even feel like.

Reading through this book…

Seeing the missing spaces where I didn’t fill them out brought back the memories of those dark days where I didn’t feel like myself, where your cries made me cried too in frustrations, where I was overwhelmed with breastfeeding – pumping – breastfeeding to increased your weight (you were so tiny!), where I felt so alone, disconnected from everything, where darkness filled me.

The last thing I wrote in there was on the question “When YOU first slept through the NIGHT: Saturday night, February 24, 2007.”

Part of those early days, early months felt blurry as if my mind was in a haze. Yes, I remember the first time you coo beautifully, the first time you had your first meal of rice cereal, or the first time we took you to the beach on Memorial Day weekend.

My brain may fail to remember the day-to-day things we both did on your first year of life. Forgive me for that, my son.

This heart is swollen with so much love and gratefulness to have this precious piece of memories returned to me, my little keepsake.

With your 5th birthday coming up in two months it’s hard to believe you are no longer a baby.

Mommy love you Alexander…my precious Lil’ A.

13 Comments
Filed Under: Single Mommyhood, Toddlerhood

More Than Skin Colors

22 Sep posted by
oldy

Saw this great piece on Facebook today shared by Bicultural Mama and I was nodding and laughing my behind reading it and knew I MUST blog a more serious spin about the topic.

So here goes…

My son is a ‘product’ of mix marriage. His father – Mr. X is American and I am Indonesian.

A little history background, I’m ‘mixed’ too. Somewhere down the line from my father’s side of the family there was a hint of Dutch yet my father is Ambonese. My mother is Manadonese which means she has very light skins and sometimes people misjudged her as Chinese.

Their ‘products’ are three kids, two of them looks like white/half Caucasian and one of them well just have a dark skin. That dark skinned one would be me.

I remember my father told me the doctors didn’t even believe he is the father after my super ‘white’ brother was born. They had to put him under the UV lights right away because they thought he’s just too white! Go figure!

Here’s an old picture of my father holding my brother. No wonder people used to doubt he is the father! Psst, yes, that was me in my father’s truck.

 

Being the ‘different’ one in the family growing up most people got surprised that the three of us, my brothers and I are related. We used to get teased. We’ve heard it all.

My favorite ‘incident’ was when I was living in this rental ‘boarding house’ with my brother. He just started college in Jakarta and we rented two different rooms in a boarding house. One night, just recently after we moved in, I took him to Hardrock Café with my girlfriend. On our way home back to the house we had to walk in this small alley big enough for just a motorcycle to fit. The next day, we got a report from the housekeeper that one of the neighbors had called our landlord and reported “Hey, that new girl is bringing home a bule* last night!”. We didn’t get in trouble but it was hilarious!

Since I became a mother I has never been more uncomfortable than moving back here. Back in the States even when we were living in a small itty bitty town of Alabama, no one had said any weird comments about Lil’ A. If anything, people told me he’s adorable and most mistakenly thought he’s a girl – thus the abuse of the color blue by me!

My first encounter with unpleasant comments was when I first came home to introduce my then 10 months old baby to my big Indonesian family. At the time my parents were still living in East Borneo a town called Balikpapan. We then flew to Makassar, South Sulawesi to let my Grandmother met Lil’ A.

After we deplaned, we had to take a bus into the airport’s terminal. I was sitting right next to my mother, Lil’ A on my lap, my youngest brother, Danny was to my right. An older lady right in front of my mother smiled, obviously staring at Lil’ A.

“Is that your grandson?” the lady said. My mother, the proud grandmother said yes and smiled broadly.  “Yes, that’s his mother” she placed her arm on my shoulder.

“Oooh…is that the father?” pointing at my brother who yes, often mistakenly thought as Caucasian. Huh?

That ‘incident’ got all of us laughing but believe me I’ve been on the receiving end of some really annoying inappropriate questions from strangers. From asking if I’m the nanny to saying “He’s so cute, too bad his nose looks just like yours!” S’cuse me? Among other nuisance questionings.

I think Lil’ A looks more like me than anything but of course I am biased! Hopefully he won’t have too much of a hard time growing up in Jakarta being a mix product and NO I do not wish he would throw himself to these whole ‘mixed races bunch of artists’ trend in Jakarta. If that’s what he really wants then we’ll deal with that when he’s 18!

What’s the most annoying remarks people give you if you have a mixed race children? Do share the silliest comment people make about your children.

 

*Bule = Indonesian slang for caucasian

7 Comments
Filed Under: Mix Marriage, Toddlerhood

Celebrating Motherhood – The 4th Year

6 Dec posted by
First Time We "Met"

Here I sit wiping my eyes after replaying the video of Lil’ A’s first entrance into this world. It’s around this time of the year where I got all emotional and mushy inside remembering that one cold day on December 7th.

The day I was so scared to death, the day I plunged into Motherhood in an unexpected way – well sort of unexpectedly – thanks to my severe preeclampsia.

After 4 weeks of being bed ridden, countless of ultrasounds – at least I got to see the little peanut a lot more than most prego mama does – countless of doctor visits. I knew he was supposed to be born early.

Still, I was nervous as hell after my obygyn said we are running out of weeks…he must be born during my 35 weeks visit or I might jeopardize my own life and that baby’s life as my blood pressure kept creeping up to a very dangerously high numbers. The doctor was worried I might get seizure at any rate. Funny enough I was called his magical patient since I had no other symptoms than the obvious super high blood pressure, mild headache and leaking of protein in my urine. There was no swelling at all!

Normal birth was out of the question as the doc explained it would be way too risky.

I nearly had a panic attack!

We haven’t even picked a name yet – yes we discussed some options but nothing was really settled! The crib was still in its box…we had no preemie outfits…the house isn’t thoroughly cleaned to welcome this baby…my dog hasn’t been bathed!

Then threw in those motherly scares of how is he going to be being born 5 weeks early? How am I going to care for such a small baby? What if I dropped him?

No time to find all the answers…5 o’clock PM sharp I was rolled into the operating room.  Bent down and had that big giant epidural needle inserted on my back to numb me from the waist down.  That alone hurts like hell!

The scare doesn’t stop there. After my obygyn, Dr. Richards said “Are you guys ready?” there was only silence…there was no cries…there was nothing but shoving and pushing on my big tummy. Yes, I can feel them pushing! One nurse rushed to my side – whispered something to the other nurse that watches my oxygen before they started pushing my stomach from my side. I felt nauseous and worry I might threw up.

That was the longest 15 minutes of my life…

What went wrong? What’s going on? Did the nurse supposed to push my stomach from my side? Is my baby OK? Why is he not crying? From all the baby stories I watched on TLC and Discovery channels they suppose to cry!

After what seemed like an eternity that big loud cries finally filled the cold room!

Tears rolled down my face…my arms twitched to hold him…my baby has ‘arrived’.

The good doctor rushed to my side after the nurse whisked Lil’ A to the pediatrician. He explained that Lil’ A turned out to be bigger than he predicted. The incision wasn’t big enough and the way Lil’ A positioned himself caused him to use a vacuum.

The scares didn’t stop there.

Although his APGAR score was excellent and weighing in at 6.5lbs – pretty big for a preemie – he had breathing problems.  I just felt cheated when they had to take him to NICU immediately before I could even touch or kiss him.

Wanting to breastfeed, my nurse waited till I can wiggle my toes before telling me to sat up and handed me this ugly looking machine called breast pumps. She said if I don’t pump now my body might think the baby died and dry out my milk supply.  So there I leaned on the hospital bed pumping and tried not to cry from the pain.

It wasn’t until after 9PM that night when the nurse pushed my bed to NICU.

That was not how I pictured meeting my baby would be like! Wires sticking on him like he’s a tiny robot. His tiny chest heaving, a little oxygen hood covering his head…it was a scene that simply broke my heart. Not being able to hold him made me felt so helpless. Wish it was me who got poked  and prodded, wish I can take his pain away…

All I could do that night after he was born was touching his tiny little hand…whispering “hang in there…baby…Mommy’s here” while my sight got blurred.

Then he opened his little eyes and looked straight at me…he was beautiful, he looks perfect to me. My heart yearns to hold him, to kiss him.

It wasn’t until the third day that I can finally do all that…and it wasn’t until a week after he was born where we both brace the joyride of motherhood and babyhood.

It wasn’t easy…I felt betrayed by that ugly disease, I was depressed but not knowing what the heck was wrong with me.

There were days where I felt like I’ve been robbed from that experience of child birth most moms had but seeing how healthy and smart my little boy is…I would have them cut me open a million times just to have him in my life forever.

His arrival and first few weeks of life might’ve been scary and unplanned for but he was the best gift God has trust me enough with.

Tomorrow, not only I’m celebrating his birthday but also saluting myself for this lifetime journey of motherhood and how I had survived for 4 years long. I may not be the perfect mother, but in my imperfections my love for him will remain through eternity.

Happy 4th Birthday, Lil’ A…you maybe too big for Mommy to carry you but she will always carry you in her heart forever.

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Filed Under: Single Mommyhood

That Demon Was Real

6 Jul posted by

Creative Commons Licensephoto credit: helgasms

Some of you, especially mothers know what Baby Blues is all about. You might have read it somewhere or heard it through the grapevines, just like I had heard about it before and proclaimed that I would never go through one.

Big mistake…

With a difficult pregnancy caused by my severe preeclampsia, bed ridden for four weeks straight, two hospitalizations, never ending check-ups followed by an emergency c-section at 35th weeks of my pregnancy then later watched our newborn baby helplessly laying under an oxygen hood…it took a toll on me emotionally.

What suppose to be happy new mommy moments seemed like a far away dream for me. Yes, I cried happy tears when I finally got to hold him for the very first time…3 days after he was born. Yes, I was so happy when we spent the last night in the hospital rooming together.

But as the new mommyhood role finally kicked in full gear, it became harder. I freaked out when Mr. X had to go back to work. Between cracked nipples and tears from pain of not latching on correctly…I sob with our new baby. Mr. X tried to cheered me up when I got so frustrated with breastfeeding. Being far from both sides of the family, the only source of help was purely from Mr. X and he really earn an honorary badge for standing by me.

What I thought was ‘only a baby blues’ period lasted for months. It got ugly and the biggest mistake was to never get it diagnose. When my doctor asked about how I feel, I lied…I was too ashamed to admit that something didn’t feel normal inside… something didn’t feel right. So it went undiagnosed and got worst. I was living a dual life…yes, I’m a happy new mother to the whole world but deep inside I felt rotten as if I’m a pitch dark tunnel, I hated everything, I even hated to hear Lil’ A crying at nights. It consumed me inside out. That year was hell and I was going through it alone not knowing there is a name for that demon, that there are helps out there, that there are ways to deal with it either through medications or counseling.

I never heard of Post Partum Depression until Lil’ A was almost 2 years old. When I read the symptoms my jaws dropped. That’s exactly how I felt…I withdrew from Mr. X, projected my unhappiness to him, lashing out to him. Even yelled at him during one of my meltdowns that I hated him…that demon had hurt the person I loveand I still carry that guilt to this very day. It got so ugly I’m surprised he didn’t walk out on me when were still in Dothan.

Actually, it took a marriage counselor to finally made me realized what caused that miserable first year after we had our baby was indeed a post partum depression, it almost drove my marriage off the cliff. She helped me tremendously dealing with the ghost of my PPD.

If only I would come clean to my doctor back in Dothan, he might provide helps in dealing with those rotten feelings and it would stop me from creating so much damage in our marriage. We are still working on our marriage and I’m thankful to God that I had escaped from the grip of that ugly PPD and my faith plus the counseling had helped me tremendously in recovering from its grips.

My hope is for more mothers, especially Indonesians to be able to open up to their doctors. Most Indonesians will be too embarrassed to share such things to their doctors. Sadly, it’s like a stigma that you don’t admit to others that you are depressed, that you just have to toughen up. Believe me, I know and I understand as I’ve been there before, was too ashamed and it almost breaks my marriage! As a medical expert they shouldn’t judge us, they should be able to help. If not then maybe it’s time to find a new doctor that does familiar with PPD.

PPD is real…not just make believe. Get the helps you need now before it’s too late!

Updated:

The marriage ended. Not only because of PPD but it was one of a factor I guess.

18 Comments
Filed Under: Musings, Single Mommyhood

For The Love of Dog(s)

2 Jul posted by

Ever since I was little I knew I’m a dog person.

As much as I love dogs, growing up we never have any dog in our house. It wasn’t until years later while I was working; my two younger brothers were in college living with me in a rental home when Danny (my youngest brother) got a pug. He was the cutest puppy ever. It was love at the first sight.

He was my baby although ‘legally’ he belongs to my brother. Danny was busy with college or girlfriend(s) or whichever comes first so I took care of Bogel (means: Shorty in Indonesian’s slang) most of the time.

Sadly he got sick, a skin conditions that mostly happened to pugs. Can’t really remember the names but we spent tons taking him to the vets. He lost a lot of his once beautiful fawn hair, he even made me itchy from his disease but still he’s my baby.

When it was time for me to moved to the States my heart broke leaving him behind but I was consoled later to find out there’s a new family for him as my brothers can’t afford to keep up with his medical needs anymore. The family that adopt him treated him well and continues his treatments. I was happy but I still miss him.

The first three months after I came to Upstate NY was a little hard. I had no job (yet), no friends and I was lonely when Mr. X is at work.

Just days before our wedding, Mr. X came home a bit late than usual. He called and said he had to go pick up something after work with one of the guy from work, Josh, so I said alrighty.

Few hours later I heard Josh’ truck pulled over in our drive way. He’s home…as I went to the kitchen to greeted him (that house is different – we use the back door instead of the front door) what I heard was that  familiar footsteps and even more familiar breath.

“What?” I was shocked…and that’s all I could said when Mr. X stepped in with a big wide grin on his face.

“He’s yours, Baby!” he said as I kneel down and patted the pug…his curly tail wagging in excitement.

Turned out he had went to pick up a dog, for me!

Other bride gets jewelry and the likes from their husband to be. Me…I was in heaven because mine gave me what I miss the most…a dog, a pug! We named him Elvis. He was a bit old around 7 years old when Mr. X adopted him.

As expected, Elvis became my baby and I’m his Mommy. I love that dog rotten!

When Lil’ A was born, Elvis took the role as our baby monitor! He would barked and woke us up when Lil’ A got up for his middle-of-the-night-feeding or just wake up any time of the day. Elvis would sleep by his baby bassinet then later by his crib. Later when Lil’ A was crawling, Elvis became the most patience dog in the world. God only know how many times Lil’ A pulled his tail, grabbed his collar, or ears yet he was always gentle, if he had too much he’d grunted and went hiding under the couch. I pictured the two of them becoming best friends…

Then we were hit with a sad blow, Elvis got sick. He had seizures that scared the hell out of me. The vet confirmed my ‘Google diagnosis’ later on…he had epilepsy.

He was on pain killer and other medication since then and he seemed fine until one night he got major seizures that lasted almost the whole night. We rushed him to the vet and they said he might not even make it thru the night, but to everyone’s amazement, he pulled through. Sadly, he’s not the same dog anymore…he has changed. He can’t seem to hear us and had turned into a puppy again, he had blank look in his eyes. The vet said his brain might be damaged but there’s no way to know for sure since they don’t have a CAT scan machine and we can’t afford to bring to Birmingham, AL where they have a bigger veterinary hospital. He advised that it would be best to put him to sleep. We struggled with that option and pray a miracle would happen.

His epilepsy had robbed him, he had accidents inside daily, that drove me crazy. There I was a new mommy with a baby and a very sick dog. I was overwhelmed and felt guilty at the same time.

In the final 4 weeks of his life, everything just went downhill. He turned into this lump that barely had enough energy to walk to his water bowl let alone eat,  Mr. X had to feed him with spoon. He kept losing weight; he howls all night long, he can’t control his bowel movements. It’s just painful to see him like that. On February 20, 2008, he had more seizures and late that night, we finally decided it is time to put him out of his misery.

 

Mr. X buried him in the backyard…

It’s been over 2 years and I still miss him, he was my baby, the first dog that was truly mine, he was my companion…this poem got me through my sadness but yes I still miss him terribly.

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….

…Author unknown…

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Filed Under: Musings
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