Ever since we made the decision, I have had zero doubt about marrying my mamat and spending the rest of my life with him (even if it means my mornings will never ever be peaceful again - chatty little monster starts singing and talking rubbish the minute he wakes up from his slumber)
He is driven and hardworking, sincere, very patient and kind, very
friendly and warm to everyone, endearingly annoying, quick-witted, and
hilarious as hell. He even cooks and cleans after himself! To add to all
the good points, he is chubby and dark-skinned – exactly how I like my men. (I
prefer them taller than 1.76m but hey, we can’t have it all, right? Hur hur.)
Unfortunately for me, he is also someone who wants to have children after marriage.
Ok don’t get me wrong – It’s not like I hate
hate children
per se, but there are certain things about the whole getting pregnant
and having children shiznitz that scares the bejeezuz out of me.
I am happy enough to coo over cute little children who belong to other people
(provided they are not wailing or pooping or drooling like a mafaka),
but I never really warmed up to the idea of actually getting pregnant,
going through hours of labour and having another human being that I have
to tanggung for the rest of my life. Plus, with other people's children, all you need to do when they start throwing tantrums and pooping buckets is to push them back to their parents, right?
My mat, on the other hand, sees children as bundles of joys, sunshine
to our hearts, answers to our prayers, spring to our steps, sardine to
his epok epok, yada yada yada bla bla bla what-have-yous.
Needless to say, my mat and I have never really seen eye-to-eye on
the issue of children and we have had long tiresome arguments about
having children even
before we discussed the issue of marriage.
(Guys, please –
for the love of God – discuss your future
family planning with the person you want to marry. I’ve heard and know of couples
who never discuss such an important deal-breaking issue until after
they’re married – only realize, to their belated horror, that the other
person has different ideas about having children. I wouldn’t have dared
to put my heart out and want to marry my mat if I didn’t know what I was
getting into)
Oh how we argued, and we debated, and we sparred. Finally, I gave in.
I’m not entirely sure why.
It might be because I didn’t want to rob this wonderful, caring man who has given me all his love, affection and time
of something that he has always wanted. It might also be because as I grow older, I have well-meaning friends who share meaningful stories about how much joy their children has brought them (apparently it is bloody worth all the pain, tears and difficulties that come with giving birth and raising children in our selfish little society)... and respected elderly people in my life who tell me religion-charged things like "
melahirkan anak adalah satu ibadah" and "
anak adalah anugerah Tuhan" etc
I also figured that my motherly
instincts will eventually kick in somehow – I might even end up being a
proud mother who has ten thousand pictures of her child in her handphone
and laptop, even when they all look the same. (To the point that my non-married friends might even consider unleashing the power of
Unbaby Me on me, maybe? Hahahahaha)
Someone I knew who was
very reluctant to have children (but
eventually did because her husband really wanted their own baby) is now
sharing information on baby products and posting articles about baby
safety and has 10 million pictures of their anak on her Facebook
profile. Even her display picture is not a picture of her, but her anak!
Haha. Who knows – I might turn out exactly like that?
Heck, I’m
open to having
another child if I eventually find motherhood enjoyable and if I find that the rewards far outweighs the downsides.
I am still taking baby steps to accept and embrace the idea that I have long refused to even consider. There are days when I ask myself whether I’ll be up to it when the
time comes or I’ll die inside thinking of all the things that I’ll have
to sacrifice or go through once we have children. It becomes especially intense whenever I
accidentally stumble onto postings by mothers’ support groups on Facebook –
about the pains of breastfeeding and bloody la-freaking-bour and
urgh, all them nasty stuff. I feel like throwing up just listing them down ok.
And then there are days when I coo over baby pictures posted by my
friends who are mothers, and I’ll gladly entertain my mat’s andaian on
how our future anak will look like.
(Fat, short and dark, like us. Hahahahaha sorry for all the bad genes, wahai our future anak!)
And
then there are also days when I come across couples who
write beautifully about their experiences as parents and the rewards of parenthood, to the point that their stories
inspire and motivate me to have children and fulfill one of the main purposes of marriage:
I think I felt a slight pang of motherly instinct after I finished reading their blog.
(Which might probably be wiped out if I read that damn Facebook page about bloody labour and the pains of breastfeeding again hahaha)
My sister once tweeted “
If God put you to it, God will get you through it.“
So if one day, God trusts me enough to put me through pregnancy,
hours of labour and a lifetime that consists of dirty diapers, sleepless
nights, constant fretting, leading up to teenage rebellion, etc, I
trust that God will get me though it.
Insya Allah.
God, and lots of painkillers.
Ok B, you can go do your sujud syukur now.
