Home but Away
So, I guess I’m home.
I’m not sure whether I should’ve said that because in my heart, home is still back in UK. Where I have my own place and my own kitchen to run, my own bed to sleep on and custody of the remote control. The day we drove ourselves to the airport, somehow the weather was beautiful. Every landscape along the M25 motorway seemed prettier. The trees seemed greener and the sky was bluer. The endless roadworks and traffic of M25 that usually drove me mad somehow calmed me down. I didn’t mind being delayed, if it meant I get to stay longer on that land. But we arrived so right on time anyway, and off we flew to Malaysia.
The first few days were the hardest. I was sulking the whole time in my old bedroom where I grew up as a teenager but this time with a husband by my side and a baby counting her days in me. My awesome two bedroom flat has been reduced to this one double bedroom. I usually get off jet lag easily in 2 or 3 days but this time it feels like forever. As if my body refuse to get on Malaysian time and my mind still wondering off UK time. Most of the nights I stayed up were spent staring at the ceiling wondering what I would do now back there or watched bad tv. Like seriously bad Malaysian dramas with almost the same plot to each other and actresses overdone their make ups. Or empty talk shows that is nothing but entertainment and bad jokes.
The road pisses me off the most. I’ll never get out of a junction in my life again, ever. I’ll never walk one of those crossings safely because apparently they’re invisible and will never see a one liner que again. And what’s so depressing is that I have to degrade myself and become uncivilized like them to survive all that.
There were times I almost thought of flying back to UK. At least while I’m still less than 35 weeks. My limit was tested the day we surveyed places for my childbirth. Some of the places I went nearby that offers affordable packages looked so horrible. Even as privates, people were overflowing those places with at least one hour waiting time. There was one place where I saw the labour room’s door looked like a door to the toilet, without self opened door and God knows what it looks like inside. ISO standard? Forget it. I couldn’t believe I didn’t foresee all these before and regretted allowing my emotions lead my decisions of having my baby here. So what if I was to be alone back in UK when I first have my baby? After a tiring day of all that, I let my guard down and sobbed in the car with Fakhrul looking helplessly on the driver’s seat. I felt more sorry for him. I made him quit his job and left his wonderful practice, ensuring him that he could give a better happiness here with my family and friends by my side. Only that I was wronged by my own assumption and selfishness for being pregnant.
Have I became so spoilt with having to lived in a developed country that failed to accept the ways of my very own people? Did I helped designed too many hospitals that I’ve become this fussy? I hope 6 years wasn’t that long enough to make me this shallow that I couldn’t see the beauty of my own place and people. I hope I can still function amongst them and most importantly, find the happiness that I dreamed to have here.
Fakhrul said that this is not a small transition, that’s why I’m like this and it takes time. He said I’ve been jet lagged too long I haven’t seen all my best friends and eat all the good food. He said again that I’ve been sleeping all day all week and too fearsome of the current swine flu situation I haven’t been out much to have bits of giggle with friends I missed. That it has been raining too much I can’t enjoy the sun, although seriously, would I enjoy Malaysian sun? That I miss the loves of my life, Adam and Maryam who are yet to come back for good too, soon in few days. That the internet has been too slow even he could lose his mind. That I’ve been too tired and weak being in 32 weeks.
I hope he’s right. For my sake, I hope he’s right. I pray that he’s right.