Noise of Silence

Silence does not always mean being peaceful sometimes it means the other way around. Silence, to others, may mean being okay but sometimes silence is the only way to tell your self that you need to be OKAY.

Silence is our way of saying “You’ve been very busy.” “I miss you.”

Silence is when we don’t like their decisions but we don’t have an energy to argue.

Silence means “Hey! I am overthinking! Can you give some time to talk to me?”

Silence means we are hurt.

Silence says “Help! I need back up!”

Silence means being followed with tears and feeling pity to our self.

Silence is playing with our imagination that he already realized, came back, hugged us tightly and apologize. But there was silence.

Silence is realizing that we need to be strong.

Silence means fighting against our self.

Silence brings noisy chaos to our heart.

Silence means feeling defeated even before the battle starts.

It’s hard when the only thing that we can do is being silent. Silence is not friendly. Silence is a poison. It kills us little by little until we break down with tears. Silence is the unheard noise that we better not expose because sometimes it’s okay to feel the pain by the unheard than by the spoken words that kill.

Unnoticed HERO

I met the unnoticed hero.

She’s beautiful.

She has a bulging belly, a beautiful “panda eyes” and a very visible rupture of elastic fibers called stretch marks.

She’s a good follower, who follows her child back and forth that made her a good traveler, too. She travels from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom then go back.

She’s an athlete, who can run as fast as she can just to secure the safety of her child who is currently climbing on a chair with a wide a smile.

She’s a “weightlifting fairy” who can carry her child on her left hand while the other hand is busy trying to dress him up. She do this twice a day.

She’s a writer. She don’t know how did it happen but she has a lot of words to say. Words that comes from the heart, a well-experienced heart.

She’s always on-call 24/7.

She’s amazing.

She’s the BEST.

She’s a MOTHER.

When I met LOVE

Before I met LOVE

I thought love loves ice cream, fried rice, and steak.
I thought love loves to cuddle with his pillow.
I thought love and I will sleep together peacefully.
I thought love is soft spoken.
I thought love is confident and bold.
I thought he loves the dance floor. 
Or  knows how to sing.
Or serenade me with his guitar.
I thought he loves love songs.
In a romantic dinner date.
I thought love is sweet, who will surprise me with a bouquet of flowers and a life-size teddy bear.
I thought love will give me his abundant time.

I thought love is patient.
I thought love is kind.
I thought love is ordinary.
I thought love will hear me.
That love is willing to sacrifice for us
I thought love can give the amount of love that I gave.

But when I met love
Love hates ice cream but loves hot coffee.
He hates fried rice and steak but loves plain rice and fish.
Love hates pillows. He can even give all to you.
Love sleeps peacefully with his loud snores every night leaving you a sleepless nights.
Love is nagger and you can even shout each other when in the middle of anger
Love is shy and hate Public Display of Affection.
Love HATES the dance floor and don’t know how to sing and play the guitar.
Love likes Metallica and Megadeth and eats only in fast food chain.
Love is not sweet. No surprises. No bouquets. No teddy bears.
Love is always busy. Don’t even have time for me. 
He likes to work. He loves to earn. 
With the most confident chat, “It’s for our future.”
Love don’t post our selfies in  Facebook and Intagram .
Even to the most simple post like, “With HER”

Love is not patient but very patient.
Although impatience will eat him, SOMETIMES especially in buying groceries but the thought that he had me until now, that’s justifiable.
Love is not  kind but selfless.
Love can give everything that I didn’t notice.
I should look at every details.
Love is unique. He has the only finger print that exist in the world. We have a different success story.
Love didn’t hear my nag and shout. But he listens to the heart. 
He listens to the tears that fell, to every “I don’t understand you” complain, to every success and failures we’ve experienced.
“Love did not sacrifice, I always did.” that’s what we always brag because that’s what we see.
Sacrifice is subjective and have no exact criteria. We have a different point of view.

Love is different.
Love can give a lot of  disappointments.
Love is not what we expected the most.
Love is loving and hating at the same time.
But love didn’t count how much you gave and how much has left.
Because in the end, love counts the QUALITY.

A Letter To My Son

Dearest Loujen,

You were born on the exact date I saw in my Ultrasound result and on that same day I was re-born too. This time, being your MOTHER. Before I saw you outside my womb, Mama had to undergo the bitterness of labor for 15 hours. It was never easy but I was overjoyed with your arrival and to feel the pain was the least of my concern. My heart was filled with happiness since you came. Your first cry is such a music in my ears.

But things didn’t go well as what I expected. My heart was eaten by fears at first. I don’t know how to carry you. You always cry every bathing time. You wake up every two hours the moment I just started my nap. I experienced the longest sleep deprivation in my entire life. Breastfeeding is never easy too but I need to feed you without thinking of my swollen breasts. You see, that’s how much Mama loves you. I had and will always be willing to endure all forms of sacrifices and challenges that will come along the way to rear you.

When God gave you to me, He knew that I need you. You taught me everything that I didn’t learned from the past which includes having a longer patience and a smart time management. If motherhood means facing a lifetime struggles, I am more than willing to face it because I know that your giggles, kisses and “Ma-ma!” will pay it all. You may not recognize it now since you are still little but I want you to know that I love to LOVE you. My “I love you” means I am willing to stop my work to be with you, that my heart beats for you and your father and it always will. In my eyes you are the absolute perfection even at your worst. That is when my heart swells with love for you and the obligation to do right by you.

Be a loving force in this world because we need more of that. Be the best at something. If you are broken I will be there to pick up the pieces, there is nothing I would rather do. You made me whole when you took your first breath and my last breath will be for you.

Love,

Mama

    In the MIRROR

    In the mirror I saw a woman. She is pregnant. Her nose gets wider. Her neck gets darker. Her belly is full. She easily changes her mood. Has a sensitive smell. She eat until her stomach surrenders.

    In the mirror I saw excitement. The raging feeling of constantly waiting for the perfect timing. The excitement of the expectant mother. That exciting feeling as she prepares her son’s things.

    In the mirror I saw a woman full of worries. Worries from thinking how fine the unborn angel. She’s trying to figure it out how to gain the energy the time she will deliver the baby.

    As you enter the labor room, a big mirror will welcome you. In the mirror I saw a woman. She is in pain. A trace of sweats all over her face as a nurse interview her.

    In the mirror I saw eagerness. A woman eager to deliver the child safely. Eager to face the pain. Eager to give her own strength for the little one.

    In the mirror I saw a woman. She’s tired. Tired of giving her best to fight the bitterness of labor.

    In the mirror I saw miracle. From a single sperm became a bubbly fetus that kicks more than 40 times a day. And in just a minute or two the woman will witness an angel will land from heaven.

    In the mirror I saw a woman. She went to the room full of light. She lied down and in just 4 minutes, she heard the sweetest ‘O-ha!’ in her whole life.

    In the mirror I saw a woman. She is full of happiness as she silently held the child to her breast.

    In the mirror I saw a woman. She is struggling. She had a low milk supply. Her two breast were wounded, a trace of the struggles of breastfeeding. She is struggling as she wakes up every two hours. She is struggling to keep her self clean because she only takes a bath in just three minutes. She is struggling with disappointments to the fact that she needs to mix feed the baby.

    In the mirror I saw insecurities. She is insecure of how her body changes. She gain weight, frizzy hair, dry skin and haggard face. Mirrors and selfies are her enemies.

    In the mirror, I saw contentment. A woman whose happy even if life gave her the least.

    The woman in the mirror smiles as heavenly as an angel despite of her flaws because she was once a daughter, now a loving wife and the best MOM.