The Mommy Life

Slightly less than a year ago, I was faced with the dilemma of not knowing what to do with my life after I had my son. I had approached a crossroad and needed to make a decision on what kind of role I would play as the mother of my child - would I be a working mom who would continue to provide for my family and further advance my career, or would I stay at home and be a full time care provider? I had worked hard to get where I was... would I really just throw it all away? No I wouldn't... or so I thought.

After eight love-soaked weeks with my newborn son, I knew it was going to be difficult going back to work. Come to think of it, difficult is an understatement. In between shoots, I was constantly asking my mother for baby updates, secretly praying I wouldn't miss anything major. On the days that I had to work late (which was most days to be honest), I was haunted by an overwhelming sense of guilt. But I kept assuring myself that this was all for my boy, and his future. Every time I head to the office, I leave a piece of my heart at home. And eventually, I just simply lost interest in my AM to PM job. It took me six months to make the decision of wanting to become a stay-at-home mom. My son was growing so fast and learning new things everyday, and I didn't want to miss any more of that.

I want to be the one who puts him down for his naps in the afternoon, feeds him his meals, holds him when he is sick, teaches the little guy things that are still foreign and unbeknownst to him. I wanted (and still want to) be the first one to witness all his firsts. I am aware that parents who work full time can do many of these things, but I want to do these things at any time of the day - morning, noon, and/or night. I want to do it all, not out of a sense of pride, but out of pure love. I want to be with my son, and I want him to be with me.

It's been four months since I chose to be with my son full-time, and I've learnt a couple of things since then. Contrary to popular belief, no, stay-at-home moms do not have a ton of time to kill. Though mostly great, the transition hasn't been without some setbacks. As it turns out, being at home isn't as easy as it looks. While taking care of my child is my main priority, my duty is also to prevent the house from falling apart. Living in a house with eight other occupants, with my mom and I being the only girls, and no help, our days are considerably hectic to say the least. We cook, we clean, we run errands, we clean some more... I give credit where credit is due, and my mom deserves most, if not all, of the credit at keeping our home and family together. I can only wish to be half as good of a wife and mother as she is. Anyways, I feel that I need to put this out there because I'm tired of people thinking that I'm living the life of an empress, and do nothing but hang around with my kid at home.

I have officially become an expert on something. I am an expert on my child. I previously thought I knew everything there is to know about my son, and raising him, but lets face it - it is difficult to become an expert on your child when you are gone most of the time. You can catch up a little bit on the evenings and weekends, but it is not easy to actually be an expert on your children when you are not fully engaged in their lives. Cultivating parenting and home-management skills is satisfying in ways I never expected, especially since I never saw myself as the homemaker type. If ever I begin to mourn the loss of skills and opportunities in the workplace, I remind myself of how much I have learnt, the skills that I have established as a mom and wife, and the benefits that have been to me, my family, and others.

The wondrous thing about staying at home is that you have the best job security in the world. No one can replace you, unlike the ever-expandable corporate world. The fact is, there is only one mom and one dad. There are a million and one ways that you can mess up, but you will always be the parent of your children. You can't change that, they can't change that, nobody can change that. I used to think that being praised for a job well done by my boss and/or colleagues was great, but nothing beats the feeling of being told that I am doing a tremendous job at taking care of my son. I had previously invested my energy and time in things, the success of a company, and the success of myself, and it felt really good and satisfying. But it is not the same as investing in people, in my family, in relationships, and in my child. Investing in my child by raising him to be a strong and decent human being will not only benefit the future of our family, but also the future of our society, God willing.

Staying at home does not mean you don't do anything except things that revolve around your child. By making the choice to leave my career, I am now able to fully focus in building and flourishing my own clothing label. Due to certain commitments with my previous job, I wasn't able to do so. Staying at home means that I am free to spend time, not only to care for my son and family, but also to pursue personal interests and dreams outside the pressures of a job. It feels good to be doing something that fits into my life instead of fitting my life around something.

The most crucial thing I have come to learn is that raising children is not all about you anymore - it's not about what you get in return, it's not about your success, it's not about your self-esteem, it's not about your material achievements. It's about loving, nurturing, and doing for others. It's about building your empire of memories and treasures that will never fade. I made some huge sacrifices when I left my full-time job, no doubt about that, but those sacrifices were either material or focused on the self. The past few months has pushed me to change my notion about my life and my choices - that what is most important is not my professional success and the accolades that come with it, but the people in my life, my family, who I am, not only as a mom, but also as a woman - not what I do or produce in the professional world. My decision most definitely came with a cost, but it also comes with incredible and lasting benefits. 

Route to Happiness

I had recently just resigned from my full-time job as a stylist at a well-renowned e-commerce company - something I'd never thought I'd do so soon. There were several aspects that had contributed to my decision - most of them revolving around my state of mind, and my world that is my son.

When I first started working at the company, it was still relatively small. There were just a handful of us, and the amount of workload was still manageable for our small team. But within the two years that I was working there, the company grew at a rapid pace. With our team barely expanding, that meant more work for us. And more work meant more hours spent at the office, and less time to do just about anything else. About halfway through that two-year journey, I gained a son, hence more hours spent at the office also meant less chance I get to see my kid grow up. You see, I have always envisioned myself as a career-driven woman even as and/or when I have children of my own. I was caught off-guard at how much of a dilemma I was left in when my maternity leave was over. Leaving your child at home for the majority of your day isn't as easy as I presumed it would be.

After months of contemplation and going back and forth, I finally decided that I need to find other career options - one that will allow me to pursue my passion, yet still have plenty of time with my son.

"Why don't you just start that clothing line you've always wanted?" Hafiz.
"Hmm.. I don't think I'm ready for that." Me.
"Why? What's stopping you?" Hafiz.
"... I don't know." Me.
"Just do it. I'll help you." Hafiz.

And so with a little bit of push from my husband, we did it. If I hadn't started it then, I don't know if I ever will, to be honest. In the words of my husband, "Don't think too much about it. Just do it.". In relation to that - this year's resolution is to kick self-doubt right in the butt.

Thus, the birth of Monokerom.

I am eminently aware that creating my own brand from scratch isn't a simple task, and success won't come knocking on my door overnight - but now that I have left my full-time job, I have no choice but to aim and work for prosperity. For my son, my husband, and of course myself. Oh, and my traveling fund too (ha ha just kidding... maybe). Good motivation, no? Coming up with the brand image wasn't too difficult, as I already knew which direction I was gonna take. What was hard, is hard, is the fact that I do not have any designing background, hence no illustration skills, no draping skills, and no sewing skills. But it's okay because when there is a will, there is a way. All I've got to do is just believe in myself. That, and work exceptionally hard.

I am both excited and nervous for what's to come. Let's hope this will really lead me to the route of my happiness.

My Labor Story (Part III)

5.00PM - ARRGGHHH. Pain level - 1049348329394. My contractions were more frequent now, and every time one comes, I would be shaking in pain. "The baby must be coming soon.", I thought to myself. The doctor came in once again to check my dilation. Yes, this could be it. Yes. Yes.

Five centimeters. You've got to be kidding me.

I was puzzled. Dumbfounded. Dismayed. More than anything, I was speechless. My journey was no where near the end, and I could hardly withstand the pain any longer. When the doctor went out, I started to cry. I wanted the pain to end so badly, but at the same time I wanted to proof that I can be strong like all the other moms, and have a drug-free natural birth. And, so I continue to toughen it out. Hafiz and my mom tried their best to keep me sane and calm.

6.00PM - The pain was getting stronger, and stronger, and it left me feeling like a month-old mushy and rotten vegetable. My cheeks were stained with my tears, and my hands were sore from gripping on to the handles of my bed. In the end, my mom and husband had manage to persuade me to take the epidural. Honestly, I was disappointed with myself because of that, but I just couldn't handle the pain any longer. My fear of needles disappeared that evening - I just wanted to be free of the pain of my contractions. Within a few minutes of having a needle stuck into my spine, I felt relieved of the pain that had been aggravating me for the past few hours. I couldn't help but to think - "Why didn't I take the epidural sooner?!". I was in and out of slumber after that.

7.30PM - I felt a sense of joy watching the levels of my contractions on the machine going sky high, but here I am barely feeling anything. Dilation - six centimeters. This boy of mine is really taking his time. "By the looks of it, the baby could either come tonight or tomorrow. We'll see which one he chooses." said my doctor. Any nervousness I had of giving birth was gone by now. I was basically too tired to feel anything at this point. My temperature still hadn't subside despite already being given medication, so the nurses had to add a dose of antibiotics into my already drugged self. Mom told me that my dad and brothers are in the waiting room rooting for me, and that made me feel so much joy.

My fever was really draining my energy. I wasn't exactly allowed to have heavy meals, hence I survived on dates and Ribena.

9.00PM - Seven centimeters. The nurse had to insert a tube in my lady parts to empty my bladder. It was the longest and awkwardest thirty seconds of my life. Need I remind you that both my mom and husband were there in the room which meaaaans they could hear every drop of pee being drained out of my body. Awkward is an understatement, actually. Mom, Hafiz, and I were getting really restless and tired. Bless the two - despite so, they never left my side even for a second.

And again, we wait. Will this baby ever come out?!

10.30PM - Eight centimeters - woohoo! My doctor proceeded to manually break my water. I didn't feel any pain when this was done. It was more of a pressure-like sensation. Even though I was already on epidural, I started to feel the strain of my contractions again. Checked my contraction levels, and it was shooting upwards. No wonder. "The baby should be out in no time. Get yourself ready, I'll see you in a bit ya?", said my doctor joyfully. How do I get myself ready to have a baby come out of my vagina?! Deep breaths, fuh fuh. Mom continued giving me back rubs to ease the pain, whilst Hafiz tried to reenergize me with more dates and Ribena. Honestly, the fact that my life was going to go through a 180 degrees change after tonight hadn't really sunk in. Heck, I hadn't fully digested that I was carrying a baby inside me to begin with.

So so tired, and so so ready to push.

11.30PM - "OK Iman, you're ready to go!", said my doctor whilst putting on her rubber gloves. Wait, what?! And suddenly things were moving almost too rapidly - everyone was moving faster, talking faster, everything faster. The nurses had propped my legs up, and I abruptly felt the need to push. There were about eight people other than myself in the labor room at this moment. Eight people were going to see me give birth. Eight people were going to have front row seats to watch my baby come out of my lady parts. To be honest, I was more nervous about having various people see my hoo-haa more than I was about actually giving birth. But when the time came, I didn't give it a second thought. My mom, my husband, and the nurses were like my personal cheerleaders - enthusiastically cheering on every single time I pushed.

"Push, push, yes, push!"
"Just a little bit more, sayang!"
"Yes, that's the way, good girl!"
"Puuuuuuush. You can do it!"

What was going on in my head the whole time? "Don't lift up your butt, don't lift up your butt..". A few people had advised me not to do so if I didn't want my vagina to be torn all the way to my anus. Of course I didn't want that, hence the chant.

I pushed about six times before the doctor said, "I can see the head now. Just a few more pushes!". My husband was the most zealous one in the room which was quite surprising as he doesn't handle blood and all things gory too well. He was walking back and forth, from standing next to me to trying to get a good look at his son. I kept hearing him say, "I see him! I see him!" and "This is so amazing!".

11.45PM - I had to push three more times before I finally heard my baby's cry. The feeling of hearing my baby's voice for the first time was profoundly surreal. The only thing more beautiful than that was seeing my baby for the first time. And when they first put him into my arms for body-to-body contact... /cries. I am tearing up just thinking about it. I couldn't stop thanking Allah for this graceful miracle. After the short time I had to welcome my son into the world, the nurses took him once again to get him cleaned up. My mom and husband followed the baby wherever he went. I on the other hand had to continue my battle, and push my placenta out. Unlike the baby, the placenta only required a single push. The doctor then proceeded to stitch me up. Despite feeling rather numb down there, I could feel the needle going in and out of my lady parts. And there I find myself thanking the person who invented epidural. My ever calm doctor seemed to be enjoying herself though - taking her time to gently stitch me up. She kind of looked like she was knitting a sweater.

My husband came back soon after, and I've never seen him look happier. His eyes were glowing and he had this massive smile plastered across his face. He couldn't stop talking about our son. One of the nurses then came in with our bundle of joy all wrapped up like a little eskimo. He was sucking on his thumb when the nurse gave him to me, hence she suggested that I try feeding him. The little genius instantly knew what to do, masyaAllah.

It's funny really, I thought I knew all there is to know about love and/or loving another person, but then I had a child - and I realized that I didn't know anything about love. I had underestimated how great and infinite one's love to another can be. My son redefined the meaning of love for me.

So that is it. That is my labor story.

My Labor Story (Part II)

11.15AM - My doctor arrived - finally a familiar face. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she got right down to business - in other words, checking my dilation. Again, I spread my legs unwillingly (/cringe). Three centimeters.

"Two centimeters within thirty minutes, that's quite fast huh? There's quite a lot of blood too. I think we should just admit you lah ya? How far apart are your contractions?" Doctor.

"Wow, that is fast. They're very inconsistent actually. They come and go as they please. Is it normal for me to be bleeding so much? Or should I be worried?" Me.

"Oh yes, it's totally normal. You just rest, and I'll come and check on you in a few hours okay? Are you thinking of anything right now? Anything to ease the pain?" Doctor.

"No, not just yet." Me.

Well, there goes my food fiesta. Hafiz offered to go out and get me food, but the thought of being left alone in the labor room horrifies the bejeezus out of me. Nonetheless, he still had to leave me by myself for a bit to settle the registration and admittance processes. Whilst he was away, I had to answer a myriad of questions, and fill in numerous amounts of forms - all that whilst having to endure the agony of my contractions. The nurses had also briefed me on the different types of pain relief - Entonox (gas), Meptid, and of course the infamous Epidural. My thoughts on pain relief - Entonox? Yes. Meptid? Perhaps. Epidural? Hmm, maaaaybe. Like most mommies, I wanted my first labor to be as natural as possible, hence I didn't give much thought on pain relief, but I didn't dismiss the subject entirely either.

11.45AM - Pain level: 5. My support system (aka mom) arrived. Lucky for me, the hospital allows both my husband and my mom to be in the labor room. I can't imagine going through my labor without either of the two. My husband came back not too long after that, and the three of us had lunch together in the room. I was still able to talk, Whatsapp my friends, and laugh at my own jokes at this point. "This isn't so bad. Nothing I can't handle. Maybe people were just exaggerating the pain..", I thought to myself. Well, ha-ha the joke was definitely on me.

Time moved inordinately slow after this point.

2.00PM - Pain level: 7. The pain was getting more and more profound by the minute. I was pretty much dependent on Entonox by now - which actually serves more as a distraction rather than pain relief, to be honest. I could feel my energy slowly creeping out of my body. My dilation was checked yet again - five centimeters. "OK, just five more to go, shouldn't take that long right? Keep the Ribena coming." Mom insisted that I take a nap, but how could I? So. Much. Pain. My attempts at taking my mind of the pain included listening to verses from the Quran, playing endless levels of Candy Crush, and reminiscing and daydreaming about my days at Lombok.

It wasn't long before I couldn't do anything, but stay curled up in a fetal position. Mom and Hafiz took turns at giving me back rubs.

3.30PM - Pain level: 9. I was experiencing cold sweats by now. It felt as though someone was forcefully extracting the bones of my spine one at a time, whilst persistently slashing my uterus with a samurai sword. The pain is real - very, very real. With that said however, I was still trying to abstain myself from succumbing to other forms of pain relief other than Entonox. I kept telling myself that it will all be over before I know it, and I just had to brave through the pain a while longer. One of the nurses had come in to do the routine check up and found that my temperature had spiked up to 39 degrees. Yikes. Concerned that it would affect my energy levels, the nurses were advised to give me fever medicine via an IV tube. Anyone who knows me may know of my tremendous fear of needles. Despite already experiencing severe contractions (like what could be more painful than that, right?!), I was still freaking out about having a needle in my hand. In the end, I think I handled it relatively well (/pats self on the back).

"Just a little bit more. I can do this.", I kept telling myself.

(To be continued...)

My Labor Story (Part I)

Growing up, I dreamt to be many things, but being a young mother was never one of them. But now that I am one, my beautiful baby boy feels like a dream come true. Weird how God works - blessing me with something that I didn't even know I wanted and/or needed. So this is me reliving one of the best days of my life. This is my labor story.

Friday, 15th May 2015

Hafiz and I had planned to go to the baby fair that was happening during the weekend weeks beforehand. We still had a couple of things that we needed to buy before we welcome our little one. As a matter of fact, our weekend was revolved around preparing for the arrival of our baby. Besides attending the baby fair, we had also planned to rearrange and/or spring clean our mess of a room to make space for the little guy. Weekends are the only time where we can actually get things done due to our full-time jobs, thus the forty-eight hours we have at the end of every week is eminently crucial. There was basically so much to do in so little time. But that week in particular, I had requested to be excluded from work on Monday so that I can get more things done. Before we said our goodnights, we had gone through our things-to-buy list together - carseat, diapers, bathtub, carrier... amongst other things. I had also texted a friend to confirm our lunch plans for the following day. With fluffed pillows, alarms set, and lights turned off, we cuddled to sleep.

Saturday, 16th May 2015
6.30AM - I was woken up by an intense pain in my abdomen and lower back. It was my first time feeling that kind of pain throughout my whole pregnancy, but I was only 36 weeks pregnant then, hence I didn't think much of it. Besides, it was just like one of my bad period pain days. "Perhaps this is what they call Braxton Hicks...", I thought to myself. Performed my Fajr prayers, and went back to bed in hopes that the pain will go away when I wake up.

9.30AM - Hafiz woke me up, and asked me if I still wanted to go to the baby fair. Half asleep and in pain, I dragged myself to the toilet.

"Mm, sayang? I don't think we can go to the baby fair." Me.
"Huh? Why?" Hafiz.
"I'm bleeding." Me.
"What?! Banyak ke?!" Hafiz.
"Quite lah. Can you help me call Azi (my gynae's asisstant), and ask her what we should do." Me.
"OK, OK." Hafiz.

I took my time in the shower - not really feeling anything. It was only when Hafiz told me that he was asked to bring me straight to the labor department, that I started feeling rather apprehensive. I immediately texted my mom to let her know what was happening. Thank goodness I had listened to her, and had packed my hospital bag way beforehand. After I had gotten myself ready, I sat on the bed, and watched my husband pace back and forth across our room while gathering his things. Surprisingly, he was more anxious than I was. After he was done packing, we looked at each other and just hugged in silence. I remember it so clearly because I think it was at that moment that we realized that our lives were going to go through a major transition after this trip to the hospital. We stayed that way for awhile.

10.30AM - On the way to the hospital, we made a pit stop at the petrol station to get some snacks - Ribena (seriously guys, this was my #1 energy booster), candies, buns, etc. Another occurrence to prove that my husband was more nervous than I was was that he had suddenly forgotten the way to the hospital despite him always accompanying me to my monthly prenatal check-ups. That made me forget about the pain I was feeling for a little while.

We reached the hospital, and I insisted that I walk from the parking lot together with my husband instead of him dropping me off at the lobby. As instructed, we went straight to the labor department. A nurse had then led us into a room, and asked us to wait in there until someone comes to assist us. The room was huge - bigger than any hospital rooms I've ever been in. There's a bed, a toilet, a couch, a couple of chairs, oh cool - there's even an extra sink... Hey, what's this spotlight for? That's odd - why is there a table of apparatuses over there? Wait a minute...

"IS THIS THE ROOM THAT I'M GONNA GIVE BIRTH IN?!" Cue panic attack.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in and said that she wanted to check how far dilated I was. I remember having a conversation with my colleagues in which one of them told us that doctors and/or nurses have to insert their fingers inside your lady parts in order to check your dilation (/gulp). I gave Hafiz a look that probably reeked of terror, and he immediately held my hand.

"Hmm, I can't seem to find your cervix. Hold on just a sec." And she walks out.

"What does she mean she can't find my cervix?! Did you see the amount of blood she had on her gloves?!" Obviously I was freaking out. Hafiz tried his best to reassure me that everything was going to be fine. The nurse came back with a superior and she too proceeded to check my dilation. Yikes, here we go again. One centimeter. Still a long way to go, she said. In the mean time, the nurse suggested that I go out and have a feast because in her words, "It'll be a while till you get to eat good food again". But before she could let me go off on my food run, we had to wait for my doctor to come and check me up.

Yumm, salmon sashimi...

(To be continued...)

Monochrome

Cotton On striped dress

Cotton On denim jacket

Charles and Keith shoes

____

When one opens the doors to my closet(s), they would instantly notice the lack of color amongst the chaotic mess. Black, white, grey, army green, black, more black, etc. No, I am not one of those who obsesses over the coordination of colors of my wardrobe, nor am I the type of person who chooses to wear only a certain amount of colors. It is all unintentional and by pure chance. As a matter of fact, I hadn't realized my penchant for monochromatic colors until a colleague had questioned my choice to suddenly stumble into work in a multicolored tie-dye cardigan. 

On a different note, what you might notice there is my five months baby bump playing peek-a-boo with the world. Still feels surreal that there is another life growing inside of me. All praise to the Almighty. More of that soon.

Journey To Getting Hitched (Part 2)

God had other plans, however. Not long after my dad made the statement of wanting to have a man-to-man talk with Hafiz, he started developing severe back pains -- severe enough to land him a three-month long medical leave from work. With the uncertainty of when my dad would resume work, and the possibility of him having to undergo a major surgery, we had to put all marriage talks aside. After numerous trips to a myriad of doctors, hours of physical therapy, and nights of worrying, my dad got better -- slowly but surely. In the midst of my dad's recovery, my grandma had succumbed to liver cancer. It was a very dark moment for us all, given that it was the first death within the family. With that said, it took our family quite some time to get used to the absence of our beloved Nanny/Mama. 

Even though discussions regarding a possible union were put on hold, the idea was never fully ignored. My parents would talk about the matter with me from time to time, making sure that I hadn't changed my mind. With God's will, my dad got so much better by the time March arrived. His doctor and physicist had both given him the thumbs up to get back on the plane. And then the moment came... the man-to-man talk (/shivers). My dad insisted that the talk should be just between the two of them, and no one else. Quiet as a mouse, I sat on the stairs whilst eagerly trying to make out what was exchanged between the two. It didn't take me long to give the mission up though. Who would have thought that the talk would last for four hours. Yes, four long hours. I didn't know what to think of it -- did it mean that they got along really well, or did my dad use those hours to cover up a murder scene... (/gulp). Thank the Lord it wasn't the latter. During the talk, it was decided that both parents would meet the next coming weekend to discuss the matter even further whilst Hafiz and I attend the compulsory pre-marital course. Another crucial thing that was agreed on by the two was that Hafiz and I would not see each other until the day of the wedding -- a wedding that was yet to have a date. I was genuinely upset that he would agree to such thing. Within the two and half years we had been together (+ some months before), we had never been apart except for that one time I went to the UK for a family vacation. And here he was suggesting that we do not meet and limit all contacts in the next, what... three months? But he assured me that it was going to be worth it, and it is something that he had to do, for him, myself, and our future. 

Our last 'date' was during the pre-marital course, and it was also then that it all felt real to me. "Wow, this is really happening. We are really getting married." I thought to myself about only half a million times. And whilst we were in the mosque, our parents were having their own little meeting. Yikes. I kept on sneaking text messages to my mom to see how everything was going, but of course she refused to spare me any details via the telephone. But Alhamdulillah, with just one meeting, our parents had managed to mutually agree on a date -- 15th of June 2014. My dad had made it clear from the start -- he wanted to take the easiest route. Why make the process of completing half your deen arduous? Everything was surpassingly straightforward and painless that most times it didn't feel like I was going to tie the knot in three months' time. No entourage were sent to ask for my hand, no overpriced fancy-schmancy engagement, no ludicrous conditions and/or demands were set, no nothing. I realize now that marriage is made difficult due to our culture. If things are planned based on Islam, almost nothing is burdensome. Most parents have too high of an expectation when it comes to choosing partners for their children. All my dad asked was if I was confident that Hafiz could lead me closer to Allah. He didn't ask me how much Hafiz earns, what kind of car Hafiz drives, or if Hafiz lavishes me with branded goods. It wasn't because my dad didn't care, but it was because all that do not matter. If you do things purely for the sake of Allah, He will make things easy for you, and it will all eventually fall into place. All you have to do is put your trust in Him.

And that meant that we really had to stay away from each other. To genuinely purify our intentions of getting married for the sake of Allah. Many people gave me bewildered reactions whenever I tell them that Hafiz and I are staying away from each other until the day of our wedding. "How are you going to plan your wedding if you don't see each other?","But what is wrong with seeing each other? Just don't do anything you're not supposed to!","But, wwwwhyyyy?","Aren't you worried that it'll drive you guys apart instead?","I don't think that's necessary.", and all things simultaneous to those. To describe the three months as being difficult would be an understatement to say the least. It was a very intense and emotionally-straining period, especially on my side, given that I didn't understand the purpose of it all in the beginning. But thinking about it now, I'm glad that we went on with the three-month hiatus. It blossomed our relationship into one that is much more genuine and powerful. And the feeling of seeing him for the first time on the day of our union was... (/sigh) nothing short of beautiful.

And that was that. Before I knew it, I became someone's wife. And I wouldn't trade the life I have now for anything.