My Son is Finally Five!

My firstborn...

It was just 5 years ago that I hailed my newborn baby towards the sun in glory like Simba the Lion (albeit it's for jaundice). Weighing merely 2.5kg, he's the tiniest and most helpless human being I've known. I could just hold his whole body with my one hand and arm. And all that hormonal high - I could just tear up at the sight of him. Or was it my very first experience in the beauty and miracle of life? Is he real? Is he really my son? One thing's for sure: he's a miracle of my life.

But life was literally flipped upside down even before my son arrived in that fateful year, 2010.

I thought the gruelling 9 months of pregnancy torture was the worse...

The constant acid reflux or heartburn, the all-day "morning" sickness, chronic constipation, insomnia, food cravings, painful twitches of the body (read: expanding width of pelvic bones!), a swelling body which makes you want to fall over anytime, and the draining energy which makes you feel like staying in bed all day. Can someone give me back my body, please?

... until my Jovie boy finally arrived on 8th October 2010.

The 24/7 work shift with 2- to 3- hourly round-the-clock feeds (meaning: non-existent sleep), a post-pregnancy sore body like someone just punched your whole body brutally for a hundred times, the engorged breast (pain!), protruding bladder in view below (it appears that I'd pushed too hard when giving birth!), contracting womb (pain again!), balding hair and the excruciatingly painful bathroom trips (for toileting and showering). As days rolled into nights and into days endlessly, I have barely an ounce of energy left. And with the numbing pain on the epidural spot on my spine (this lasted for at least a year!), I feel like an 80-year-old grandma with rhino legs (fats!) ready to collapse anytime.

Personally, I find that giving birth is nothing compared to the pre- and post-pregnancy experiences. It is painful but it's still bearable. Read: unplanned 'emergency' epidural (pain relief) was given only at the final moments to speed up and regulate my 'infrequent uterine contractions' which may result in a distressed baby if things drag on - I was dilating too slowly. After 10 hours and much hoo-ha, I was only 4cm dilated, not even halfway to the desired 10cm. This usually occurs to first-time moms for natural birth, and may be caused by the anxiety of birthing pain disrupting the contractions cycle.



I was thinking perhaps after one, two, or even three years later, everything will be back to normal. But even when my boy was almost five, it's been the same. Every other night, the sleepless baby wakes up at 1, 2, 3, or 4 am to play with his toys, find Mommy or Papa, thirsty, awake from dream, or find the 'blue car' or the 'red train'. Also, he was never hungry. Even if we tried to starve him in the hopes of giving him a bigger meal later, he simply would not eat anything! In fact, his growth seems to have stalled when he was 2 to 3 years old - he had the same weight (11 kg) for more than a year!


Surprisingly, sometimes he'll gobble up bananas, blueberries and papayas but he'll not eat any meat, fish, rice or bread. It's a frustrating force-feeding session at every single meal, 3 times a day, for the past 5 years. Imagine a small bowl of food can take him one hour to finish. And further imagine all that hard work of force feeding coming to nought as he conveniently vomited everything out because he jumped around too much.


Sidenote: putting him to bed is a complete torture as well. It takes him forever to fall into deep sleep at night (usually 1 to 2 hours). And he wakes up at a needle drop. Everyone has to tiptoe around the house. And I'll pray that the postman/door-to-door salesman/the rag-and-bone man wouldn't come at this time. He hardly takes afternoon nap like his peers since his toddler years. But if he does, he sleeps at the wrong places.

At the supermarket... Okay... at least I can market in peace.

And that's not all. He is constantly on the move and is like a tornado: spoiling things, furniture, toys, books, his clothes and my clothes. Ahh! All that madness from childproofing both the house and everywhere else! And he's just so curious, touching anything and everything, putting random things into his mouth and nose for fun and, worst of all, he runs off everywhere! He's gone missing for about 10 times to date. And those heart-stopping episodes of him hurting himself while he does his crazy acts, read: bloody eye or nose and flattened-out fingers! It was worrying to the point that I was having nightmares of him killing himself in freaky accidents. The scenes were so real that I literally woke up crying. Running after him and looking out for him is so exhausting and most of my relatives dare not bring him out, unless me or hubby tags along.


Once, my mom brought him downstairs for a walk and came back barely an hour later in sweat (almost tears) saying: "Ok! Ok! I'm exhausted. Give you back (the baby) lah! Keep running off and touching everything!" It's no wonder both my mother and MIL decided that they can't help me in minding him, let alone taking care of him full-time.



And so, I have to shelf my life plans that were somehow laid nicely ahead of me: to step up the career, property and car ladder. Have another kid. Retire comfortably with a nice pool of aging funds. Probably, many of us have had such laid-out plans at the back of our minds. It is the social norm. But now, I have to live another way.


As he grows up, more hurdles sprung out in view. For me, two of the most exhausting thing about child-minding is: potty-training and dining-training. Imagine teaching a tiny human being who half-understands you to a. hold the spoon this/that way, b. scoop the food, c. open your mouth and put the food INTO your mouth, d. BITE and swallow (pleeeease!)... You can imagine how frustrating when most of the food end up on the floor instead of the tot's tummy. And potty-training is the worst thing that I've gone through in my life, seriously. Like I said before, outsource these tasks to your mom, sister, or whoever's got the badge of patience. Do so especially for the weak-hearted like me.


And all day, this tiny creature would want to be attached to you and expect that he has your constant attention. My boy even demanded to follow me into the bathroom, put down my seat and then proceed to tear and fold the toilet paper nicely for me, never minding the smell! [Sorry too much info.] And did I mention before, whenever he falls sick every other week or so, I'd mostly fall sick too. Being constantly sick is really sickening. Ahh. All that dreadful doctor visits which lasts hour after hour. Thankfully, his sick spell stopped when he went on from nursery to kindergarten. I've had so much pre-warning from fellow parents about this sick spell. So I am kind of ready for this.


It is exhausting, still. I once told my boy: "Jovie, if you do not start to eat and sleep properly, won't stop going missing and touching every other thing, Mommy is going to die from exhaustion or you are going to die from an accident or poisoning!". This is especially so when no one except me can hear him waking up in middle of the night because other family members are not light sleepers like me.


After 5 years, things changed. Just few months before his 5th birthday, Jovie is FINALLY sleeping throughout the night on most nights, with little or no wet bed/pyjamas, though he's still wearing diapers for night time. He'd just begin to sleep through the night from 11 or 12 at night till 8 in the morning. Although some of his classmates are sleeping from 7pm to 7am plus an afternoon nap daily, his improving sleep cycle is enough to make me think that I am REALLY at the end of the dreary tunnel. I can even see rainbows not far ahead!

After a few weeks of quality, unbroken sleep, my hubby even commented that I looked much better and healthier! Ha. The sacrifices of having a rambunctious child. Or what my hubby described as 'crazily-active'.


In addition, my boy has been eating more food, is less crazy, and not running away from us too much. And it was only recently that I have the luxury to have my meals in peace, use the bathroom in privacy (if I'm lucky enough), take a proper look at myself in the mirror, pluck stray hairs, scrub my face, grow longer hair (as I began to have less white and falling hair), and had pinkier, moisturized lips. I didn't realise till then that I looked so zombie-ish.


I also noticed that I have more patience and energy to attend to my son, pander to his whims, fancies and tantrums, and even have the energy to laugh and enjoy my day. But, I know I've mellowed so much since having my boy, it's difficult to return to my energetic old self. I have been converted from an extrovert to an introvert. I now prefer quietness and peace more than anything. Yes, I am embracing a quiet existence and am loving it.


Some people are rattling me into having a second child but no thanks dears - 5 years of living dead is enough. I don't think I have the stamina to go through that same punishing schedule again. I may end up with a major depression, brain cancer, or a stroke (btw, there was one period where I think I had a mini stroke - my face was numb and twisted on one side).


Even more so, I do not have anymore patience to teach another human being how to brush teeth, bathe, clear nose, and all the proper mannerisms and cleanliness.


Despite all these, I still love my boy very much. How did I know this? Because:

1. He's the one who makes me laugh almost everyday. 12 hours of agony in exchange of 12 seconds of laughter.
2. I still have the urge to kiss or hug him even when he is already super irritating.
3. My friend told me that I was (unknowingly) smiling when I showed him pictures of my son - while I was angrily ranting about how difficult it is to raise him.

Now as I was writing this on a random morning, I can hear him outside my bedroom door going, Oh Yes! Oh No! Yaya.. dada.. All that nonsensical singing and babbling of cheerful banter with his Papa. And I can imagine him galloping merrily around the house with his arms swinging in the air.


Today, right now, life is wonderful and beautiful.

And so this wonderful day passes by.


Pardon me for trying to be poetic but some feelings can only be conveyed through means other than normal writing. And although, this day didn't last, [nothing lasts forever] at least it is a beautiful bittersweet memory.

To my dearest Jovie,

After all those meltdowns and vomits, Mommy loves you all the same. In fact, I think our wonderful and blissful life has just begun. Let us look forward to the years and years of joy and laughter ahead. Love you to bits. And I know you love me to bits too :) My dearest son, let us reach for the rainbows together! And happy 5th birthday my diaper boy!


With lots of love,
Mommy

My smelly boy. You're still a dream to smell and hold.

PS: As much as I'd aspired my child to be more precocious (more mature for his age), I think I should just accept the fact that he is more childish than his peers. Everyday, I'm trying to strike a balance between keeping him joyful and keeping him intact (or alive, in his case). This is my daily struggle with the following saying:

Better a broken arm than a broken spirit.

Despite all these unpleasantries, I'm glad that I can still look back to the past five years with a nostalgic smile. In particular, I found that the things that my son made me say or put me through, very amusing. For a quick laugh, please see this and this video. I'm guilty for some of them!