Miss Carry Ages

I went online today to read a post on Facebook by a makcik who checked in to a hospital with the hashtags #cucupertama #allahlebihmenyayanginya (first grandchild, Allah loves him more)

I’m friends with her daughter. Well, not exactly friends, but I know her name, attended her wedding, and if I bumped into her outside, we would recognise each other. Acquaintances, it is. I read this Facebook post and …somehow…everything for me slowed down. I don’t know why I feel affected by this.

Some people commented “tahniah” on this makcik’s post. I’m like no no no this is not tahniah (congratulations). This is takziah (condolences). That’s the problem with people who don’t read till the end. The comments and the makcik’s replies flowed in. It turned out my friend had been seventeen weeks pregnant, but the baby had been dead for five weeks. I can’t wrap my head around it at all. I grew up secretly reading my mother’s Dr. Miriam Stoppard’s Pregnancy and Birth Book, I knew a liiiiittle bit about pregnancy. She carried a dead foetus around for five weeks! I don’t remember this in the book. How does that work? How did she feel? Sigh. May you stay resilient and strong through His tests.

I have another friend who was single when I met her, but got married two years later. She had posted on Instagram that she was experiencing #bleeding. I hoped that everything would be okay for her. The next time I saw her she was carrying a heavy bag. I stopped her. “Pregnant women shouldn’t be carrying heavy things!” She smiled at me. Something…seemed off. My mouth then slipped out the words, “Are you …still pregnant?” A weak smile she gave me andshook her head. “Oh,” I replied, embarrassed, wondering if that was the right thing to say.

Someone else I know had an ectopic pregnancy three times. A random stranger I talked to at the hospital had ectopic pregnancy too. I was this unmarried woman in heels sitting at the window ledge of Hospital Sultanah Aminah while she was walking slowly and carefully in her hospital clothes. Ectopic pregnancy is when the egg is fertilised outside the womb. I was trying to imagine the aggressive winner sperm fusing into the egg that hadn’t traveled down enough and wow that must’ve hurt. Your fallopian tubes are hair-thin, you know? It will hurt for your baby to grow in there! I’m speaking in the most layman term possible.

I’ve never bothered to explain these but I learnt that some people literally have no clue. It’s fine. I wouldn’t be able to explain to you how brain hemorrhages work either, apart from it’s a stroke in the brain where your arteries burst and brain floods the rest of your brain or something like that. Oh, that’s explaining it already. Fine. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to tell you how to conceive a girl or a guy. This part I totally blacked out in school because I wasn’t interested. Reading about douching vinegar and stuff sounds gross.

Here’s a picture I found on the internet so at least we can learn something new.

Another friend had a miscarriage. She has ovarian cyst problems.

Here’s ovarian cyst. Your eggs are released from the ovaries. This thing, unlike fibroids, hurt so much.

Hm. It’s more common now when I think of it. My mom yells at me whenever I carry heavy things. “Not good for your womb!” “But Didi is taking too long!!” I retorted. She’ll make me wait for my brother. She wouldn’t let me carry anything heavy.

The common denominator with all these women mentioned is that they are all hardworking women. Gosh, I don’t know why my feelings towards these women who experienced this loss is so great right now. A friend who had to do IVF treatment told me she has a couple of frozen embryos. Her mom told her to just dispose them off. She feels that it’s not right. I wouldn’t know how I feel if it were me either.

Sigh.

I would like to talk about preventing growth of cyst and fibroids by eating organic chicken, but I’ll leave that to later. Now, still thinking about my friends and other women who had lost lives that were created in them, here’s for their husbands:

Dear husbands,

If your wife is pregnant, please don’t let her work even if she wants to. There is such thing as rezeki anak. You take care of her. Allow her to rest and allow her to make time to be the best possible version she can be for you and for the human growing in her. Allow her this time to prepare her optimums to be the best mother for your child. Don’t let your wife get caught up in a life of politics and chasings. Start your child nurturing from the very start. Insha Allah, Allah will provide for you. Sustenance will come in ways unexpected, not only from both of your jobs. Trust in that. Trust that you will not be given more than you can handle.

Yes, some or most women would be able to go through the pregnancy fine while living her working life as per usual. But I think she’d wish to not work. You see, women have our own egos too. We want to be able feel that we are able to provide for ourselves without relying on a man. Or we want to help you. Or we think of our parents who provided us with an education and how to give them money every month. We want to know that we can do it all.

Of course we have dreams too. We want to climb on top of our careers too. But I think…for a few months…….let her focus on her child, please? It’s a v slippery slope and I feel that feminists aren’t going to agree with me. But maybe that’s also because I’m thinking of the child. So I’m going to stop out of respect for career-minded mothers. My mom was a fulltime housewife when she had her first miscarriage. But she’s also crazy who needed the house to be clean all the time. Are we expected to just sit around and do nothing then? Sounds impossible. But okay. I will stop here. Slippery slope is dangerous. Sorry.

I hope I’ll marry a man who is secure in himself that he sincerely, from the bottom, to the middle, and the surface of his heart that Allah has it all planned.

But if it’s already written that I’m meant to be alone I’ll be cool too.

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