Celebrating #YummyMummy!

Pregnancy is a beautiful period of exploring the new phases of your body will endure and also, that of your baby. The feeling of giving life to another human being, to take responsibility for this new person is truly overwhelming. When I took the test first, I was thrilled beyond belief. I ran out of the bathroom, screaming my head off. But here’s the funny thing, apparently, I was already two and a half months pregnant and I didn’t even know! Thinking back to the point when I might have gotten pregnant, I was rock climbing and hiking in the vast fjords of Norway.

Having cruised through the first trimester effortlessly (or recklessly unaware), the second one rolled in. Since I was decked up in Sweden throughout my pregnancy and delivery, I had to prepare anything that I wished to eat at that time. I recall waking up one morning at around 2 am and cooking chicken majboos (An Arabic dish, where the rice is cooked with exotic spices, tomatoes and chicken stock, topped with charred and baked chicken). And how can I forget the southern fried chicken, along with southern buttermilk biscuits? Not to brag or anything, but I have gobsmacked myself as it tasted scrumptious!

Sadly, that was not always the case, I slept through most of the day, as winter had the longest nights (sunset was at 3:30 pm). I didn’t entirely follow the midwife’s orders, so naturally, I did not bother to squeeze in the healthy routine! My meals usually constituted toasted brown bread, corn/chicken/broccoli soup and boiled veggies. And I am talking about all the three meals, devastating, I know! My husband would take pity on me and make biriyani every week or something new and excitingly fun. Really, though, he was like my literal rock, massaging my aching back and toes.

In between all that misery, came a moment which I cannot describe to this day. She nudged me from the inside and I can still remember the feeling, like when you are in the elevator and it drops all of a sudden (or something like that?!). It is that indescribable intimate connection that the mother and child share.

Towards the end of my third trimester, my mother arrived and suddenly, the air was breathable, the rooms were cleaner the food was tastier and I didn’t have to thrive on leftovers after she stepped into my elaborate apartment. She would cook anything and everything I wanted and what more could I ask for? And like that, days rolled by in a gleeful haze.

The D-Day arrived on the 24th of April, I remember the entire procedure- the breathing exercises, the long strolls near the hospital lake, the amazing bunch of midwives and nurses who took care of me and pampered me like a child. The whole experience was effortless and incredible.

After five hours of panting, huffing, puffing and pushing, fast forward to the moment the nurse placed Safreen on top of my chest. She was a little dirty as she was smeared with some blood on her tummy. I could hear the rapid heartbeats of hers. It felt like her heart beat entwined with mine, just like how it used to be when she was inside of me. And at that moment, when you hold her in your arms, NOTHING MATTERS. The pain would be an alien concept to you and you will realize the true meaning of happiness and love.
My hubby was quaking with fear as the midwife handed the scissors to cut off the umbilical cord. I mocked him by clapping mutedly. Honestly, I was chilling out with my delivery crew, throwing away high-fives to the nurses and midwives. In my opinion, that is what you should feel, VICTORY.

Through this post, I want to tell you that you must worship your body, tend to its every need, celebrate it and live life to the fullest without the slightest worry on your shoulder (let your hubby do all the worrying!). Being pregnant is nothing but beauty, so you are beautiful no matter how you look! Just stop for a second and feel.

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“I’m writing about my wonderful journey of pregnancy for the #YummyMummy blogging activityat BlogAdda in association with Marico Bio Oil.”

 

 

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F is for Façade – #atozchallenge

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This poem is titled Façade. It reflects on old wounds and betrayals, long healed but remains as a dark mark. Enjoy.

 

Your face,
pallid,
Your soul,
corrupt,
Your ears,
burn red,
Your eyes,
brim with lies,
Why do you,
Conceal the truth?
Why do you,
pretend to care?
Why do you,
project love,
for passersby to see?
Why do you spindle,
on my emotions?
Why do you even try?

A to Z Challenge 2016 – A for Alienated (Day 1)

Today marks the beginning of the A to Z Challenge, I am enthralled to join this crazy blogathon! Here is a poem beginning with the letter A. It is quite a personal piece, and I got on with it as I don’t plan on following any theme pattern particularly.  Hope you enjoy it.

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Alienated,
unloved,
neglected,
Such was
the third daughter
of a proud man,
Captivated
in her emotional
stature,
She struggled
to compete
with her sisters,
fair and bright,
A delight
to her parents,
Always the last pick
Always left behind,
Why?
she wondered,
Was I adopted?
she pondered,
Her fate,
Halting,
That flicker
Of hope
extinguished,
As her own mother
ridiculed
her,
Inflicting pain,
How was she
to feel elated?
A monstrous childhood,
followed by,
Loss of
Familial love,
even in,
adulthood.

This post is also a part of 3WW (Three Word Wednesday).

Elated, adjective: in high spirits; exultant or proud.

Flicker, verb: (of light or a source of light) shine unsteadily; vary rapidly in brightness, of a flame) burn fitfully, alternately flaring up and dying down, (of a feeling or emotion) be experienced or show itself briefly and faintly, especially in someone’s eyes, make small, quick movements; flutter rapidly, (of someone’s eyes) move quickly in a particular direction in order to look at something; noun: an unsteady movement of a flame or light that causes rapid variations in brightness, a tiny movement, a brief feeling or indication of emotion.

Halting, adjective: slow and hesitant, especially through lack of confidence; faltering

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Don’t break them vows – #SadaSexy

Husbands can be tricky creatures, confusing even and they tend to be confused as well. It is not a joke when people say that a man changes after marriage, it is only natural that he does. The boulder of responsibility gets dumped on their shoulders and honestly, they struggle to find their place. I, happen to be a credible witness to my hubby’s monumental transformation. He is an amazing father, surprisingly, a very persistent partner. Fatherhood does that to men, I guess, which is undoubtedly impressive.

I have to hand it to him; he has been taking hits like a punching bag this past year. But with me being a woman and all that, I still remain immensely unsatisfied. I don’t think I can help it. There are about a bazillion things I would like for him to promise me on this woman’s day, but I am also glad that he quit smoking after I announced my pregnancy (Thanks to Safreen, my little chubby tubby).

Promises,
Can be frivolous,
Promises,
Can be binding,
Promises,
Can be a burden,
You don’t have to
Overthink it,
Just stand by your word.

15 Free, Pinnable Inspirational Quotes Graphics About Life, Love and Success  | Cuteheads:

Promise me, my “better” half that you will write to me (a simple email or a letter) at least once a month. For there is nothing more powerful than words were written down to express what you truly feel, which you cannot say out loud.

Promise me, that you will you will NEVER surprise me because you know exactly how ridiculous it feels (For the both of us).

Vow to pursue your passion for cooking for all eternity. I don’t think I am going to admit it to you, but you are a hell of a good cook. I mean, the sizzling Hyderabadi Biriyani to Spicy Mutton Kurma.

Make a promise to never stop fussing over my wounds, no matter how small it is. It makes me feel loved, it makes me feel wanted. In fact, it is better than professing your love for me.

Promise me, you won’t forget your penchant for traveling. We are yet to see the world, and Europe doesn’t cover all of it!

Promise me that we will revel in our secret jokes, using our code of satire that no one will ever comprehend!

Make me a promise, to not forget our fights over silly things only to laugh about it later.

Vow to be imperfect because perfection is a fantasy and those who choose to believe in its existence are wasting their life.

Promise me that you will be my everlasting rock, as you are now.

Promise me that we will never forget our friendship.

Promise me that you will always put your family, above all else.

 “I’m blogging about the kasams I want from my man this Women’s Day with the #SadaSexy activity at BlogAdda in association with Set Wet.”

Blogoversary! It’s been two years.

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I am immensely proud of the content I get to deliver on this amazing platform called WordPress. It changed my life and has been doing so for the past two years.

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I am incredibly grateful for the 70 followers on my blog, thank you all for making this blog possible. I don’t mean to make this sound like a bullshit routine speech, but hey, I really mean it. I would never have the confidence to keep writing and believing that I can do so without the support of your awesome comments and likes.

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I remember when I used to think that I could not write or whatever that I wrote was worthless and will never be looked at twice. I used to wallow in self-pity and I convinced myself to delete the blog when I realized that no one read my stuff. I kept creating and deleting blogs on various platforms until I decided to choose WordPress. I love how personal everything feels here and also how everyone is so encouraging, humble and kind. Thank you all, once again.

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Happy Writing!