Nurul H is a MOMMY!

Monday 11th April 2005

I've got news.

Stork news, that is.

My girl, Nurul Huda Friday, just gave birth to a baby girl sometime last week. Sometime a few days before her own birthday. According to the current Reuters of the group, Mardee. I tried to call Nurul but she didn't answer her mobile. Figures. If I were her, I'd be ignoring my ringing mobile too as I will be too busy staring in enraptured wonderment, mouth agape, at my newborn baby girl.

Alhamdullilah.

My wedding hubbub greatly pales in comparison to this. This gift of life. And my very own galpal, Nurul Huda Friday, is now holding this gift in her arms. The same Nurul H who endured countless Geography lessons with Nora (aka Sadin) and I, under the watchful eyes of Miss Pillai. The same Nurul H whom I tried to match up with every cute and not-so-cute guy in Victoria School. The same Nurul H who cruelly and gleefully conjured up ever-after images of me and a certain Anglo-Chinese School boy I actually avoid like the plague.

The same slenger Nurul Huda Juma'at is now a mother, joining the ranks of fellow ex-Crescentians of Class '97, Izzati, Roselelah and Ida.

I take a moment and reflect. For all that I am now, I'd give anything to be where they are. I love babies, I love children and I'll love them even more if those little tykes I drool over came from my own loins. Soberly, on the flipside, as I take stock of who I am, I know I am not ready for kids yet. I really can't even wipe my own ass properly, let alone wipe little ones of others. The other day, I took a big crap in Azim's apartment and totally forgot to flush (though I did wash and wipe my ass!). My big brown crap cake welcomed Azim later with such a bad stink, his pee forgot to come out. And I got an earful from my clean-freak fiance.

That's why I take my (red) hat off to all the young mothers, mothers-to-be and mother-wannabes. They are in a level I can't even fathom being in. The mothers have already performed miracles and are thriving through the beauty of motherhood and the dealings of family life. The mothers-to-be are about to embrace motherhood itself and are glowing epitomes of real wonderwomen, what with pregnancy shenanigans and some, with careers and life's neverending wildcards. The mother-wannabes have received revelation and are mature enough to desire and try for motherhood to shape their future and destiny. (To the mother-wannabes, I wish them all the luck, all the fertile eggs and sperm, all the baby-making tantric sex and all the storks in the world.InsyaAllah!)

And me, with my flimsy whims and my floozy fancie,I can't even call myself a mother-wannabe. With my messy schedule. With my current obsession with yoga for that elusive toned ass and tummy. With my headscratching dilemma between a pair of Gucci Flora heels or Celine strappies for my wedding dress. With my self-love and my selfishness and my whole, individual, only self.

I am really my own little kid who ought to be spanked silly.

But if Allah has it in His books that I am to be with child soon after I am married, I'd be eternally grateful. If not yet, I let slide for I think He knows that I am not ready. I know I am really not equipped yet to take care of a helpless little babe (although Azim is,I'm sure!).

So again, to the young ladies in the uberposh Sorority of Motherhood (current, pending or tentative), with you all, I rest my case as I give my kudos. This sorority membership is worth more than a million Hermes Birkin bags.

Especially for Nurul Huda Friday.

Because she was as slenger as I was and yet, she has passed the sacred initiation whereas I would fail miserably.

Oh, just spank me.