Picking up from where I left off

Yes, it was indeed hormonal.

Who’d have thought that 2013 was the year of MASSIVE CHANGES in my life.

For one thing, I had the crazy compulsion to try the Atkins way of eating in the early part of 2013. I shunned anything that had carbohydrates in it. I was more devoted than a novitiate reciting her evening prayers in my scanning of the nutritional contents of every food package that came my way. I had to make sure that what I got only had less than 10 grams of carbs in it.

At that time, the rest of the household considered me a pariah when it came to mealtimes. As custom, they would lay out bowls of grilled sweet potatoes and tureens of mung beans and yam stew along with the dried or pickled fish then finish off the meal with ripe plantains swimming in caramel sauce. But I’d refuse any of it. As the rest of the family piled their plates high with all the carbo yummies that I did love, I would sit there, wordlessly munching my pig-skin cracklings.

My sister-in-law thought that it was a boycott on her cooking and would often look at me with an aggrieved expression from across the table laden with fried rice and noodles. Tata thought that I was on a suicide mission. In his concern he surveyed how many of our late neighbors died from having a lot of meat in their diet [the evidence he presented was inconclusive, I told him while I ate three fried eggs]. The various nieces and nephews thought that it was injustice that I ate pig-skin cracklings during mealtimes while they had to eat veggies with their meat.

I’ll write more on this later, but for now, let’s just say that Atkins worked for me. I lost more than 30 pounds and never felt healthier! But the biggest, most startling thing would happen in the middle part of year and was probably brought in part by the diet.

Also in 2013 I thought that I would lose my mother. We went to Korea in May for what was supposed to be Mama’s treatment for a lump that doctors found in her throat. They suspected a tumor. Fortunately, it was not malignant. I returned home and went back to work, happy with the news about Ma.

And then in July I found out that I was pregnant! And that’s the biggest news for the year.

How many years have we waited for a baby of our own? Faith is already in her way to becoming a teenager. These days, actually, she’s living with her real mom after I explained why her mom and dad never ended up together (read: interfering parents who thought it’s best to let their son marry someone richer).

There were some complications in my pregnancy and had to be in complete bed rest from the 5th month. The baby was scheduled to be born in early March of 2014, but she decided to come out on Christmas Day!

Yes, we had a premature daughter. More than that, she was a micropremie, weighing only 860 grams or 1.9 pounds, when she was born. We stayed for 72 days in the hospital. And it was the biggest ordeal that all of us in the family had to face.

I think I have recovered enough to have the strength to tell of our ordeal. And I can say that our preemie is a fighter, thank Heavens, and she is now a bouncy one year old who melts her papa’s heart like nothing else in this earth could. But that’s just the proud, doting mother in me talking. So it you are into hospital drama (e.g., Grey’s Anatomy), then I encourage you to read posts about our hospital stay, which I’ll write soon. For those who are queasy with thoughts of syringes and ladies in white shoes, I’ll have a warning put up in the first paragraph of a post to give you sufficient time to read about or do something else.

So, for those who are still devoted to the goings-on in the Broken Coffee Cafe, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for staying with me until now. The place needs general cleaning, and perhaps I’ll get round to it once I can squeeze in the time between diaper changes and milk runs.

Meanwhile, may I tempt you to some cookies and the usual cuppa while I tend to a pile of laundry waiting to be folded? And pardon the goo on the couch. You know how it is with little ones bouncing about in the house.

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