The organised chaos

Moms and daughters

All my life, I have been the good daughter.

Nobody needed to nag at me to study hard, I hardly gave my mom any cause for worry and I think I was pretty much on my own most of the time. I’m not saying that Sista was a trouble-maker but definitely, her more spirited and rebellious approach towards life had Mom worrying all her life.

Then came my mama’s call last week. She rang me and asked me who would be taking care of me during my confinement period post-delivery. That got me all confused: I had assumed that it would be her since she had helped my sister out after her delivery. Mom was all, no no no, I can’t do it! I have to take care of Rai, you have to hire a confinement lady.

When I heard it, my heart sank. Maybe it was due to the hormones, maybe I was just feeling all the angst from years gone by, but I was really, really sad. I kept it out of my voice and told Mom calmly that we didn’t want a confinement nanny and that I’d be alright since Mr Thick would be taking leave to help out. We would cater confinement food and we’d be fine.

The relief in her voice was so apparent. Happy that the crisis had been averted, she continued the conversation waxing lyrical about my nephew.

When I hung up the phone, I wanted to cry. Instead, I tweeted:

And thank goodness for the Twitterverse! Many girls replied and said that they had faced similar situations. Nobody dismissed my message or trivialized my feelings, and many tweeted their support. I know it sounds horrible but I was very glad that I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

In the end, I had a good cry and my godsister rang me up to hear me sob into the phone and to offer her take on the situation. I moped for a bit and then decided that there was no point in moping because this wasn’t something that I could change. Instead, I told myself that I would be happy not to have to go through confinement, something which husband and I had agreed upon right from the start.

All’s well ends well though. A couple of days ago, Mom called me to tell me that she would be spending two weeks with me after my delivery. Sista would be taking leave to take care of Rai, freeing up my Mom to be, well, MY mom.

I don’t know what changed between phone calls but I was so, so glad. I’d willingly down ginger food and longan-red date tea just so that I could have my mama take care of me.