Tonight, the clouds above Bukit Setiawangsa hang low; a sure sign that rain will soon fall on this hill again. I could see from my balcony, sparks of fireworks flying off from the neighbouring Wangsa Maju. I thought to myself, what could they possibly be celerating in the middle of the week? As opposed to the people who are celebrating happy cause; I don’t have much to celebrate of late.
Luqman has been ill for the past month or so. He started off with the viral infection which led to febrile fits and the rest is just too painful to be recall. He was having fever again shortly after Hari Raya and we rushed him to Damansara Specialist on the fourth day of Raya. For the past one week his temperature reaches beyond 39 degree-celcius at night and I was a wreck for not having enough sleep. I don’t have enough space in my heart to worry anymore.
When we brought him to see Dr. Musa for the second time last month, the good old pediatrician didn’t hesitate for a second to send Luqman straight to the pediatric ward after his temperature soared to 40.7 degree Celcius. Luqman was, once again, subjected to various blood test and medications were forced down his throat. His little hand was bandaged to secure the IV. I rather die a thousand deaths than see him in such a terrible pain.
I never thought I would live to see the day the number of my child’s pediatrician would gain a spot on my hand phone’s speed-dial. The text messages went back and forth between me and the doctor. Not to mention the bizarre timing my messages hit his phone. But just like any other good doctors (you can be rest assured there are lousy doctors out there), Dr. Musa replies my messages without further ado.
Neither have the thoughts I’d be a “pseudo-doctor” knowledgeable in children’s illness and medication. Glancing around my collection of books on my messy bookshelves I was surprised that to my astonishment I have quite a lot of books on pregnancy and parenting. Before I became a mother, I would not even give a second glance at the parenting section in a bookshop. And now I bought a few? Amazing isn’t it?
Friends have labelled me a “kiasu” mother simply because I want the best for Luqman. I often wonder what I did with my friends before I got married. Now I don’t seem to be able to do the things I did when I was single and carefree. I used to spend hours with my friends at our favourite haunts. We talked a lot – about nothing – mostly to shamelessly “kutuk orang.”
A few of my friends are still single, some are trapped in their own everyday-routine of raising a family while some are juggling motherhood and demanding careers. As a result, we don’t get to hang around so much lately. I shudder at the thoughts of writing this next sentence but I will have to do it since it has being hanging around my head like an annoying pest: motherhood robbed me of my fun times.
One of my closest friends said this time and again: “friendship needs consistency.” I couldn’t agree more with her. I lack that consistency now. And now with the advent of Facebook, our friendship has been reduced to sending virtual gifts and playing scrabble online. Honestly, how sad can that be?
However, I do celebrate the presence of Luqman in my life, and always will be. He would be the only sparks in my life for years to come. InsyaAllah.