Lately I have been plagued with a thought that scares me: what If I don't like my kids as they get older?
I love and adore them right now, and the icing on the cake is the added cuteness of their age, Iman being six months, Noor being 2 years old. I realize now that this is the age I LOVE. I cannot imagine a day without their endless (and in Iman's case, toothless) smiles and unconditional love. The tears at the drop of a hat, followed by incessant laughter and giggles. Most of all what I enjoy is their interaction with each other, watching them in complete adoration of one another. I am not looking forward to the day they fight over each other's clothes.
Recently at a gathering, certain friends were saying how they were glad to be done with diapers, baby food, and strollers. But I LOVE this stuff. I revel in it. I cannot imagine a time when it all becomes obsolete. I still have not even thrown away Noor's old pacifiers, not that I am reusing them or anything. I won't part with these teeny, tiny baby blankets, even though Iman rolls around so much they are useless. And I can't stop buying baby clothes. Even though there is literally nowhere to put any more clothes.
My dear friend M.Y. told me her husband always wants more children because he loves the infant age so much. I never understood that. Until now.
So mothers with older children, I ask you, does a mother's love ever run out? Or does it morph and continue to grow with your child?
Showing posts with label iman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iman. Show all posts
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
She's Here!
Alhamdulilah my second daughter has entered this world, healthy and beautiful beyond the scope of my own limited duas. It's incredible to know that my own mother loves me so much to make these incredible duas for me. How else could I blessed in so many ways?
It's been quite the week. On Sunday, we thought perhaps I was in labor, feeling what I thought was contractions, so we went to the hospital to get checked out. It turns out I was not, but from the moment we got into the labor triage room, I felt annoyed, especially because the biggest football game was on in a few hours, and I really wanted my husband to be able to watch it at home, especially if we did not really have to be at the hospital. (I know, how selfless of me; actually I did not want to fight with him during labor for ignoring me)
After being okay'ed by my doctor to leave, they decided only moments later to keep me for a few more hours and put me on an IV because the baby's heartbeat was high. Stupid, stupid coke zero. Why did I drink you on the way to the hospital? After arguing with the nurse and the doctor I gave in, mostly because Moustafa convinced me to go with it, since we were there already. I lay on the bed another two hours until they finally allowed us to go home. I was praying for this the whole time, but really did not expect it to happen, as I know how hospitals like to control the situation, and in almost every situation, the patient is kept and induced (and I was a mere 24 hours overdue). Luckily Moustafa was able to catch most of the game at home, but heartbroken when his team lost.
The next day, I moved up my doctors appointment because I wanted an update on what was going on with this baby and to make sure my doctor knew about the false alarm. While I was there, she did something known as stripping of the membranes (I will leave you to google that). I read that it works for some, but usually makes little difference. It did however cause me to cramp and spot, which was expected.
So the day went on, I continued to have cramping and spotting. Around 8 pm, I asked my sister to come to Target with me; I just had to have hand soap refill before this baby came. Funny how trivial things can weigh you down like it's the end of the world. As we were walking through Target, I was in so much pain at times, I wanted to lay on the floor. Darn cramping, I thought.
So we didn't stay long. Came home and the "cramping" got progressively worse and more painful until 9:30 when I called my doctor. I don't expect her to remember every detail about every patient, so I didn't blame her when she said I didn't sound like I was in labor on the phone or in crazy pain. I am just not that kind of person (until later). So she said hang out at home another hour or so, see how it goes. I decided to take a bath, hoping to ease the pain, forgetting that my pseudo ob/gyn (Dr. Mona) told me that warm baths can also help relax and body and bring on labor. By the time I got out at 10:30 the pain had only gotten worse. This whole time, Moustafa is as doubtful as I am that this was worth a hospital trip. But by now I was red and sweaty from the pain I was in. Pretty soon, I begged to go to the hospital.
We got to the hospital and the guard at the labor triage room showed us to the waiting room, to wait for a nurse. As I am waiting, I can barely breath, in excruciating pain and pacing and panting.
Finally a nurse grabbed me coming out of the bathroom. This whole time I am going to the bathroom every 15 seconds, thinking I had to. She started to take me to an evaluation room, thought the better of it, and took me straight to a labor and delivery room. After some yelling, at the nurses, at my husband, at anything in front of me, I demanded the in house doctor. My doctor had been informed at this point, but I could not wait any longer..
The on call doctor delivered me at 1:06 am. No waiting. No medicine. No epidural. Somehow, the nurse managed to get an IV in me.
Aside from my sister, we spoke to no one as we left for the hospital. The next time they heard from us the baby was already here. My mother thought it was a joke, as she did not even know we left for the hospital. Welcome Iman Badreldin. 7 pounds, 11 ounces. 20.5 inches tall.
We're home now, just a few days later, in the same week. Still in disbelief.
It's been quite the week. On Sunday, we thought perhaps I was in labor, feeling what I thought was contractions, so we went to the hospital to get checked out. It turns out I was not, but from the moment we got into the labor triage room, I felt annoyed, especially because the biggest football game was on in a few hours, and I really wanted my husband to be able to watch it at home, especially if we did not really have to be at the hospital. (I know, how selfless of me; actually I did not want to fight with him during labor for ignoring me)
After being okay'ed by my doctor to leave, they decided only moments later to keep me for a few more hours and put me on an IV because the baby's heartbeat was high. Stupid, stupid coke zero. Why did I drink you on the way to the hospital? After arguing with the nurse and the doctor I gave in, mostly because Moustafa convinced me to go with it, since we were there already. I lay on the bed another two hours until they finally allowed us to go home. I was praying for this the whole time, but really did not expect it to happen, as I know how hospitals like to control the situation, and in almost every situation, the patient is kept and induced (and I was a mere 24 hours overdue). Luckily Moustafa was able to catch most of the game at home, but heartbroken when his team lost.
The next day, I moved up my doctors appointment because I wanted an update on what was going on with this baby and to make sure my doctor knew about the false alarm. While I was there, she did something known as stripping of the membranes (I will leave you to google that). I read that it works for some, but usually makes little difference. It did however cause me to cramp and spot, which was expected.
So the day went on, I continued to have cramping and spotting. Around 8 pm, I asked my sister to come to Target with me; I just had to have hand soap refill before this baby came. Funny how trivial things can weigh you down like it's the end of the world. As we were walking through Target, I was in so much pain at times, I wanted to lay on the floor. Darn cramping, I thought.
So we didn't stay long. Came home and the "cramping" got progressively worse and more painful until 9:30 when I called my doctor. I don't expect her to remember every detail about every patient, so I didn't blame her when she said I didn't sound like I was in labor on the phone or in crazy pain. I am just not that kind of person (until later). So she said hang out at home another hour or so, see how it goes. I decided to take a bath, hoping to ease the pain, forgetting that my pseudo ob/gyn (Dr. Mona) told me that warm baths can also help relax and body and bring on labor. By the time I got out at 10:30 the pain had only gotten worse. This whole time, Moustafa is as doubtful as I am that this was worth a hospital trip. But by now I was red and sweaty from the pain I was in. Pretty soon, I begged to go to the hospital.
We got to the hospital and the guard at the labor triage room showed us to the waiting room, to wait for a nurse. As I am waiting, I can barely breath, in excruciating pain and pacing and panting.
Finally a nurse grabbed me coming out of the bathroom. This whole time I am going to the bathroom every 15 seconds, thinking I had to. She started to take me to an evaluation room, thought the better of it, and took me straight to a labor and delivery room. After some yelling, at the nurses, at my husband, at anything in front of me, I demanded the in house doctor. My doctor had been informed at this point, but I could not wait any longer..
The on call doctor delivered me at 1:06 am. No waiting. No medicine. No epidural. Somehow, the nurse managed to get an IV in me.
Aside from my sister, we spoke to no one as we left for the hospital. The next time they heard from us the baby was already here. My mother thought it was a joke, as she did not even know we left for the hospital. Welcome Iman Badreldin. 7 pounds, 11 ounces. 20.5 inches tall.
We're home now, just a few days later, in the same week. Still in disbelief.
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