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I woke up earlier due to my son's discomfort. With my rocking, he finally melted in my arms with bliss.
In the silence of the early morning, I overheard the next room's baby cries.
The baby had always been crying; I wondered why out of concern. It sounded to be in much discomfort and pain.
The nurse came in to check on the bag that was attached to my son's tube. He had been on this ten to twelve hours milk marathon nightly. The nurse will come in to top up the milk whenever the milk finished in the bag.
"I noticed the baby in the next room always crying. Is the baby having some kind of condition?"
The constant baby crying I heard next door during my hospital stay
Nurse replied, "the baby is fasting for seven days. How do I explain this? The baby has a condition medical condition called NEC."
"NEC? Let me Google."
My eyes were shocked as I read the words from Wikipedia.
'Necrotizing enterocolitis ( NEC) is a medical condition where a portion of the bowel dies. It typically occurs in newborns that are either premature or otherwise unwell. Symptoms may include poor feeding, bloating, decreased activity, blood in the stool, or vomiting of bile.'
I turned to the nurse, "This sounds serious."
"It is. Earlier, X-ray was done on the baby. The bowel did not appear to deteriorate further."
I inquired, "how old is the baby?"
"14 days old."
After she finished her duty, she returned to her nursing post while I returned to my thoughts.
Suddenly I have this feeling and thought at the same time.
I will be leaving soon. My singing had always been a comfort to my son.
From tomorrow onwards until the time we discharge from the hospital ...I decided that I will be singing for the mothers and babies of this ward.
From the unexpected feedbacks that I had received, some mothers shared with me that they felt good although my singing was not intended for them.
So much pain here. I cannot take away their pain. I am not someone who have the ability to create such miracles.
All I can do for them would be to sing from my heart and let the melody reached out to those who needed it.
I am not sure whom I would touch with my voice. I sincerely hope that it would not cause unnecessary disturbance.
I hope that my small gesture can give them a temporary distraction from their suffering, and some Light in spite of everything.
Let my Heart guide me to sing.
God, please guide me to sing for the wounded hearts.
The birth of Patrick changed my marriage life from the two of us to the three of us, a family. We were excited, happy, worried followed by all kind of emotions for our baby son. So many things to learn, to experience. Breastfeeding, constant thoughts on our baby's well being especially when his jaundice appeared to rise during his first month. The lacking of sleep. There were moments I observed his breathing while he slept. We were amazed by every new mannerisms that Patrick displayed. We were so charmed when he first smiled to us. I would observed how gently my husband would treat Patrick and how Patrick would looked up to him, listening to his every word. Mummy supporting and loving baby We were enjoying ourselves as new parents until something happened in the middle of November 2017 that changed our lives forever. "There is something not right with his stools." My sister in law remarked to me while I tiredly changed Patrick's diapers. Menta
I have been encouraged by Cordelia Lee to explore my creative side, she has inspired me to use poetry as a form of self-expression. I find that poetry allows me to express myself in a different way. Though I have to admit, it is still a struggle for me to find the words to express myself. Recently, I was moved for the first time to submit my poetry for an anthology http://www.singlitstation.com/thousandcranes . (Image of poster taken from singlitstation.com) The theme and subject matter somewhat speak to me. The topic of coping with illnesses and death can be a taboo topic and yet all of us will die one day. On the other hand, if we were given a life of immortality without pain and suffering, can we truly live? Will we appreciate our moments in life and the opportunities given to us? Or do we feel empty without a purpose? Indeed, this is not an easy question to answer. I felt good after writing the poem. It gave me a different outlet to express m
I looked at his pale face and frail body on the hospital bed. Lines and tubes on his legs and neck. There was a bag at the right side with yellowish looking water inside. The liquid was not urine but water which had to be pumped out from his stomach cavity. It was difficult to see someone whom you have known since young to look so weak. He had lost weight and aged considerably. It was the second day of Chinese New Year. My sister and I took a trip down to Kuala Lumpur to visit relatives. We visited a cousin at the High Dependency Unit, he had liver cancer and was complaining of diarrhea. Visiting hours were 11.30am to 1.30am and 5.30pm to 7.30pm. We had to take turns going in as only 2 guests at a time are allowed. Despite having the experience of a prolonged stay at the hospital and being immobile, I was tongue tied. I didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. I could only share with him of my previous struggle at the hospital. On our second visit bef