#games that i will never stop gushing about: far cry 5. far cry new dawn. rdr2. rain world. voices of the void-

[youredreamingofroo]

i've just been reminded of one of my favorite things in all of RDR2 and it's Arthur's journal,,, I loved doing stuff around the world, hunting specifically, and remembering that Arthur will just passively and occasionally draw or write something,,, There's something beautiful about that which makes me love the game so much more, like I would scope out some birds, discover a new species and the next day when I woke up and checked the journal, Arthur drew those birds and it just made me smile, it makes him feel much more human, and makes the journal much more worth it to look at and isn't just some feature to tell you about this or that, it's *actually* a journal that he uses,,, Now granted it is a bit weird that his journal has infinite pages, but idc LMAOO I'm just here to appreciate the beautiful nature of Arthur's journal

[irastayshome]

Ibrahim's birth

Ibrahim arrived in this world on 21st January 2017. Back then, we were lucky to afford a doula because I was hella nervous about the whole birthing process and tbh my head wasnt in the game because of all the stress at work. After the 'hard part' was over, and as I held my son, I vividly remember my doula saying that the easy part was over and the hard part of being a parent has just begun. I thought it was a joke at the time because, well, what could be harder than pushing a 3 kg baby out of your vagina? 2 yrs and 6mths on, I have mentally kicked myself in the head for taking my doula's words lightly. These days, I consider it a win when I do not raise my voice or completely lose my sh** and raise my hands at my son. I keep needing reminders of what it took to get him into this world and the many moments we failed him along the way so that I do not be complacent and mistreat him.

So I thought I might write his birth story down after all. Didn't really wanna remember all the details of something that feels rather insignificant now, but some days at home are just rough and a good reminder is useful.

*

19 January 2017. I had been on maternity leave for a week, but only just completed my case transfers from home. My mamamia had been insisting that I sleep over her place once a week for the last trimester on Hasyali's night shifts. I didnt mind at all, because my r/s with my parents have improved significantly after moving out. Distance is truly necessary sometimes.

It finally dawned upon me that I was due in a week. Being last minute as I always am, I tried to 'catch up' on the squats that my doula/birth educator had been reminding us to do at 9 pm. But really, i was just doing it for fun cause like it would make any difference at 39 weeks, esp since ive been treating my body like crap while handing over my work the last few weeks. Planned to youtube more exercises to speed up labour etc etc but fell into the rabbit hole of "natural birth positions" and "painfree birth vlogs" and before I knew it, I was hooked on the Midwives yt tv series till i fell asleep at 5 am. Damn youtube.

20th January 2017. 7 am. Felt like I ate something so bad and had to do a big one. And so I did, groggily, and went back to sleep. Feeling so smug that I could finally sleep in on a weekday. 9 am. What is going on with my bowels??? Tried to recall what I ate last night, but dont care just sleep after the business. 10.30 am. Sat up and mentally admitted that those horrid pains at the bottom of my tummy could actually be contractions! Trying to keep cool, I ate breakfast quickly, trying to mask my ronyok face each time the tightenings came by because nyayi was there and I just did not wanna tell my family. pretty sure they would have shipped me off to the hospital immediately.

Took cab back at 12.30pm and smsed hubs about the contractions, saying it could potentially be the real thing. But not sure, so I timed them in the cab. 10 mins apart. regular. oh crap its happening. Got home, discovered the bloody show. So yup i got my confirmation. Smsed hubs a photo of it but told him to just take it easy, go solat Jumaat and just slowly pack his bag aftee. He just got off his night shift so he probably hasnt slept at all. Told doula Kak Hajjar about whats going on, and was advised to just relax and walk2 until i cant talk anymore from the pain. Hubs came back, and i took off on a birth walk alone around the estate. Every few mins, I just stopped and breathed deeply, sorely regretting not pestering my hubs to come along bcoz adoi sakit and nothing to squeeze or hold on to. and in the 3 pm sun no less.

Came back, started panicking when i realised hubs belum pack!! what is it with men and last minute packing?? feeling annoyyed bcoz im about to do some serious work but he cant even get started on packing. but ok takpe, got in the shower to cool down and to relieve the pain while he packed. Contractions were now 4 mins apart, but I could still talk. NUH told me to come in now. Doula told me to wait till i cant talk. The kancong me decided to go anyway, worried about the rush hour jam on the start of a weekend.

Arrived at NUH at 6 pm, realising that id skipped lunch. I was hungry, and oh no so damn sleepy bcoz i barely slept the night before! Damn youtube. Ate mr bean pancake with hubs. Met doula who told.me i dont look like its time bcoz i could talk and joke about. I admit i secretly thought that it was because i had a high tolerance for pain hahahaha joke. Entered the delivery ward at 7 pm, was 4 cm dilated. Yay! but wait what, all that pain and only 4 cm? oh no.

So began the longest night of my life. Doulla massaged my back and did hip squeezes through contractions, and I occasionally swayed while standing with hubs. These two were just incredible birth partners. My labour pains were rough at the front, but damn the back labour pains were friggin insane! Felt like maybe I had tentacles trying to burst out of my spine and turn into Doc Ock.

At some point, i remember just saying random supplications and feeling so regretful that i had not rehearsed what selawats I wanted to read in those moments bcoz my head was really jammed up trying to manage the pain. By 3 am my body felt like it had gone through a marathon and i really did fall asleep between contractions out of sheer exhaustion. It was exhausting to just tahan the pain.

By 4 ish am (hazy on the details by now), a VE confirmed I was 9 cm dilated. At this point I was already vomitting and my head hurt so much from tahaning the pain. I remembered thinking, or maybe even saying out loud, that I wanted them to cut the baby out. Im pretty sure I was transitioning at that point but I didnt know bcoz my mind was too panicky. They told me the head was still too high to push, so they offered to burst my waterbag, but said theres no assurance it would bring the head down but wld certainly intensify the contractions. I was pretty sure I would pass out if they intensified, out of exhaustion. and never mind that I was barely able to wake up btwn contractions due to my flu and fever (yes ARGH hate flu during labour). So I refused and waited for news that im fully dilated.

6 am. Still at 9 cm. My head was thinking "how long did Kak Hajjar say transitions lasted again?? takkan lama gini??" This time, my mental strength just gave way. I screamed for an epidural. I remember feeling so terrified that my baby would be stuck while im pushing, because I had zero energy left. Fatigued from the pain and the fever, I pleaded for an epidural again n again. I rmbr my doula, my husband, the nurses all giving me such kind words of support, saying ive gone si far and am at the last lap, and encouraged me to stick to my birth plan of going without medication. But I was too defeated by exhaustion and just wanted to sleep. Hahahaha. Like i literally said "yang, i nak tido" and started to cry.

So they called in the anesthesiologist (dunno the spelling). While he prepped the long-ass needle, I felt a huge gush of warm water down there. My waters broke. At this point I could have just waited for the head to descend, but I was too tired and looking forward to a promised 2 hour rest before pushing. So I kept quiet about it. I was in tears, out of disappointment at myself for not being able to ride out the exhaustion. But my doula was so kind and reminded me that God is the best of planners, and perhaps this was the way for me to achieve a natural birth still and avoid any emergency csection if I could not push. The nurses too were angels, and kept assuring me I had tried really hard for a long time and shouldn't beat myself up. And so I slept. That was the best 2 hour sleep of my life. pretty sure I snored and drooled, in the presence of my doula. Nak kata paiseh but nah I was too tired to care, and all modesty had left the room hours ago.

8 am. Woken up by cheerful nurses who told me it was time to start pushing. I just wanted to sleep in longer, but then I remembered oh ya baby is still inside. That epidural was gooooood. So began pushing. It felt so weird pushing when I cant feel anything moving down there. They had to tell me when to push i.e. when contractions came, and kept telling me I was pushing wrong and i had to do it as how i would when pooping. I suddenly didnt know how pooping felt like anymore. Kept pushing for an hour plus, but apparently the head keeps going back in. My husb and I had affectionately named our foetus "jubjub", just to avoid calling it the baby during the pregnancy. and my doula joked that perhaps the baby keeps going back in bcoz we named him jubjub like the muppet from Hi-5 that likes to peekaboo around. haha that was a good one.

My gynae finally came in around 9.30 am ish. She told me that I had to do an episiotomy to help push the baby out. My husband stopped her and told her to let me continue trying. But eventually she kept persisting and my husband apparently could not tahan seeing me push so hard anymore (he said the veins on my face look like they were gonna burst). So he agreed. The moment she cut, I pushed and felt the head empty out of me. I thought that was weird cause I was on epidural, but apparently they reduced the dose while pushing. A few more pushes later, I heard it. Ibrahim's first cries. The nurses and my doula congratulating me. My husband telling me I did it and he was proud of me. But mainly, Ibrahim's cries. 21st January 2017, at 10.03am.

They placed him on my chest. I cried. and cried. And i thought he was the most perfect thing I could ever hold in this world.

Dearest Ibrahim, a mother can love her husband out of choice, but theres simply no choice in this love I have for you. It is so raw and intense and relentless, that Im so consumed by it from the moment I held you. There are days, now, when I feel your anger towards me because I am so hard on you, especially since im not very good at coping with the two of you. But I hope you never feel that I love you any less when I get angry. and I hope you truly forgive me when you give me a hug after I apologise each time for beating you. You deserve so much better, and i'll keep striving to be a better mother to you and adik.

Ok bye. Am gonna cry my eyes out now. Damn birth stories.

[samtheflamingomain]

february

28 days. There exists but a February between us finally meeting. Despite February being the shortest month, this "February" will undoubtedly feel like the longest.

It took a while for everything to feel real - both us and the trip. We've both been busting our asses saving up, but also busting our asses waiting.

Pearson Airport is barely in Toronto. There's 5 major parts of the Greater Toronto Area: Etobicoke to the west, Toronto in the centre, Scarborough to the east, and York and Markham up north. Pearson lies as far west as you can go before you're out of the GTA.

I explain this because, to me at least, when you land and come through the sliding glass doors into Terminal 1, it still won't feel like you're in Toronto. I'll get to bring you into the real Toronto. The plane only does half the work. (Well, okay, maybe 60% at most).

We'll get on the train and be downtown a half hour later. There won't be much to see on the train ride, but I'll have plenty to see right next to me. A jet-lagged sleeping beauty, if you'll excuse the lame Yuuri on Ice reference.

You'll fall asleep at the hotel and hopefully we'll go out and see the things to see in the evening. CN Tower visible everywhere, thousands of pedestrians flooding the sidewalks, the brightly lit billboards at Yonge and Dundas Square. It won't matter much where we're going.

We'll go to Church and Wellesly to hit all the gay bars, we'll walk up Yonge and see all the specialty stores, the restaurants from every corner of the planet, and about 25 McDonalds'.

I'm sure Tim Horton's won't hold so much as a birthday candle to coffee from Washington, but, as I'm sure you know, it's illegal not to try it.

Time permitting we'll take the Bloor subway all the way to Kennedy, then take the train, then a bus, then walk a half hour down the hill to the Scarborough Bluffs, arguably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Or maybe we'll ferry to Toronto Island and hit the amusement park if it's still open. It'll be too late in the year to go canoeing, but the view still can't be beat.

We'll demand that Connor come into town so I can show you off; he'll be quiet at first but with a few hours (or two drinks) he'll be as open and witty as I am, and you'll understand why we're the closest friends you'll have ever met.

We'll sing our lungs raw at the concert and fall asleep in each others' arms before leaving, taking the 2-hour Greyhound up to Kitchener. As we pull in you'll see the Tri-Cities from one end to the other, from rural Cambridge to the downtown terminal, driving right through my old neighbourhood.

There's not a lot to see or do downtown, but Uptown, a 10 minute bus away, is where the millenials live. Unable to walk two feet without tripping over a hipster or a Korean restaurant, laughing at the sheer number of head shops and vape stores that have popped up in less than a year. And, of course, navigating the clusterfuck of construction.

We'll get on another bus that will show you the Universities, just two blocks apart from one another, making for the busiest part of town. The bright purple Laurier and the black-and-yellow UW. You’ll get to see our one-and-only 7/11 and one of our three Starbucks.

Then another short bus north and you'll see Parkdale: the two plazas and, of course, my apartment complex. We'll hold hands and jaywalk across the parking lot, up the hill and all the way back to unit 6. Hopefully the trees still have some orange and yellow leaves; or perhaps they'll be blanketed in snow. Hopefully the dumpster won’t be overloaded with shit like it usually is.

Banksy will be there to greet us at the door and demand to be pet. You'll get to see how truly tiny my place is and wonder how I crammed all the stuff into it that I did.

We'll get an all-too-short slice of domestic life: grocery shopping, a doctor's appointment, cooking in my dollhouse-sized kitchen. I can already see your face aghast at how little I have to eat and the four pizza boxes that will undoubtedly be stacked in the fridge. But I'll show you my brand new vitamins you made me buy and you'll smile.

I'll find a day where Little Caesar's is staffed with my favourite coworkers and bring you in. You'll meet the odd-but-oddly-likeable Rob, the adult-like teenagers Alycia and Lily, and hopefully not stern, resting-bitch-faced Karen.

You might see Makula as she runs out the door or stinks up the house cooking; you'll likely meet Julian and Eric, nerds of your caliber, and I'm sure you'll all gush about games I've never played and about which Magic card is best.

We'll have to spend a night at Thirsty's so you can meet Liz, Deb or Casey the bartenders and Doug, Damien, Roy, Ginger, Matt, Mary and other regulars. We'll have to get wings - Cajun - the have the best I've ever had.

But all the activities in the world won't match up to the time we spend laying next to each other not believing any of it is real and not thinking about when it will end.

Maybe we'll spend some time just watching stuff at home or playing video games, singing or drawing or painting together. I'll show you my favourite everything, the language textbooks I wrote myself, the infuriatingly disasterous amount of art supplies I have, my weird books and atlases, the only 14 photographs I own, all the books I've written in, all the journals I've accumulated, all the art I've done that no one's ever seen. Because I know you like it so much, I'll play you all the piano I can.

The last night before you go I know we'll cry until dawn. We'll get back on the bus to the terminal, onto the Greyhound, onto the train and into the Toronto airport that isn't in Toronto. We'll be in that limbo again for an hour before your flight is called and it won't feel like it was enough, and it also won't feel like it's over, not until the last moment I see you in the flesh, queuing up for security, undoubtedly in tears that never really stopped flowing.

But we won't be sad long. We both know we'll see each other again soon, but of course, the weary thought of "not soon enough" will never escape the backs of our minds.

We'll kiss one last time and then you'll be gone - but not really. You might not always be here with me, but you'll always be present with me.

See you after one more February.

Love Sam