I can finally muster a little strength to sit here at this computer and type a few measly paragraphs. On Saturday I felt a slow fever creep up on me (Ayden was sick two days before and Yasir was sick on Friday and Saturday) so I was doing whatever I could to stop myself from falling ill - gulps of Redoxon, Vitamin E etc) but on Sunday it was my turn to be completely useless. And it hit me-hard. It started out with a scratch in my throat and quickly turned into a full blown out fever. As soon as I fell ill I knew I wouldn't want to be near Ayden because he had just recovered from his fever. So I watched helplessly as he would cry out to me wanting me, and my heart would break into a million pieces because I couldn't be there for him.
On Monday I was so weak I could barely walk for two seconds without spots clouding my vision. Today I coughed up 'something' in my throat until I gasped and gasped for air because it felt like someone had zipped up my airway passage, like how you would simply zip up a suitcase. That was a scary experience. I tumbled out of bed, into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water with shaky hands as I tried hard to draw in some breaths in a raspy, screechy manner. Beads of sweat formed everywhere on my body and face. My maids panicked and called Yasir while I collapsed onto the kitchen floor. Kak Su who was holding Ayden kept on repeating
"Mama sakit Ayden, mama sakit Ayden.." in the kitchen in the flurry of panic. Tears automatically ran down my face. It's scary when you're struggling to catch your breath like that. I continued to screech in a desparate act to inhale some air, any air. Everything was happening in slow motion. In my mind I imagined what would happen if I still couldn't breathe. Someone would call the ambulance. Will I get there in time? Of course I was mostly being overdramatic. But when your lungs are suffocating you tend to get overdramatic. Then I caught a glimpse of Ayden's face from the corner of my eye.
I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine for my son. I finally could breathe. Nenek took me into her room and rubbed vicks all over me till my neck burned. I felt much better. While I lay there on her bed Bibik brought Ayden into the room. I watched him coo at Datuk and I smiled weakly despite the drama that happened five minutes ago. Now I know the fierce depth of a mother's love. Nothing matters but your family, your son, your children. Your health is for your child first, then you second. Your life is for your child first, then you second. You hear it in songs, in books and in poetry, but till the day you experience it yourself you will never really begin to comprehend this depth.
Such is the power of a mother's love-it breathes air into your lungs when you're suffocating. It gives you strength when you're weak. It makes you live.
Love,
'Aainaa
A couple of coffee table books that I would kill to have in my house (details below are all from Modcloth):
Whether they're Crocs, Docs, or Birkenstocks, the look and style of these noteworthy shoes is universally recognizable. In our own Book of the Month pick for your collection of fashion-focused literature, you can see the 50 most iconic and influential shoes across many eras, from the 1830s to the present. Illustrated with full-color photographs paired with descriptive profiles for each shoe and its designer, this hardcover book by the Design Museum celebrates the prominence of footwear in the culture of contemporary design, from plimsolls to platforms and pumps! 
In this highly entertaining paperback "textbook," author Derek Blasberg, a frequent contributor to both Vogue magazine and Style.com, offers "exceptional advice for the extremely modern lady." In contrast, Blasberg outlines the many "don'ts" of unladylike behavior, including how not to dress for formal events, what to avoid doing as a party hostess, and the worst way to approach airplane travel. 
This book, penned by Pamela Keogh, is a primer for those who look for an Audrey-inspired life, whether it be in lessons of love, style, the home, or generosity. 
The pic above refuses to rotate for some strange reason. Oh well!
