Zayan turned 7 whilst we were up in the air, flying from the homeland to grey cold England.
Seven just seems like a ‘big boy’ age. He is now quite independent, making his own breakfast most of the time (usually kaya, nutella or honey sandwich – dont shoot me on the sugar!) and helps a lot in looking after his little brother. He tidies up after himself a lot (because someone ahem nags him). Yet at other times, he can resort to sulking and crying on the littlest things.
What I love the most about him, and I hope it will always be in him, is how sensitive and empathetic he is to others. I mean he can ignore his little brother’s cry (biasa banar kali dah sampai he just doesnt hear it) but he’s pretty sensitive to others.
A few years ago, he was probably 5 yrs old then and I came back home feeling low. There was a heart breaking resuscitation overnight of a baby that was born at home and sadly the baby did not survive. After discussing with the consultant and doing all we could, I did what I haven’t done before: announced to stop the resuscitation. I tried not to cry then, not let my voice waver as I asked if anyone had any objections. I still remember looking at the NNU sister, paramedics,the other midwives and my SHO. Tears were running down plenty of faces not least the parents. Her mum has just begged us not to stop and I had to explain why we’re stopping, how long we’ve tried. I looked at the ward sister, she had decades of experience and I remember looking away quickly – if I see her cry, I’ll cry then too. But thankfully I, who cries easily at anything and everything, managed to steady my voice, do some last checks (second check that the ET tube was in place, looking for any abnormalities elsewhere), wrapped baby up and handed baby over to parents.
It was pretty busy in NNU with other sick babies and so we plodded on, only catching our breath for a few minutes after that event. So I was numb for the rest of the shift. It only hit me when I was at home…24 hours later.
The next day, I pottered around, still exhausted mentally and physically. I went to the kitchen, stopped as I couldnt remember why I went in there and then I just broke down. I sat on our kitchen stool and the flood gates opened and I couldnt stop sobbing. It’s difficult to explain the grief felt for a little being who I dont even know, whose family I dont know, someone who only just entered the world but still a life lost is a life lost.
So there I sobbed, big ugly fat tears, forgetting that my son was in the house. He crept beside me and stood next to me, patting on my shoulder. He continued standing there for a few minutes, just patting and probably thinking why his mama has lost it. I couldnt stop crying after holding on for the last 24 hours. He asked why I was crying and I said a baby was not well in the hospital yesterday. He asked if the baby is better now and I said no. And so he hugged me some more.
So Zayan, wise beyond your years, thank you for being the sweetest boy ever. Thank you for being the coolness in my eyes.