10 + 1 why I am in love with Matt Leppard by Rebecca Leppard

1. It is not beyond him to make up the bed, mop the kid’s accidental poop off the floor or out of the bath, and carry my feminine purse around the mall if I need to carry the kid.

2. He asks me if I want anything for breakfast and then makes it and puts on chilli flakes automatically.

3. He shoves vitamins on my lazy mouth every morning to make sure that I’m not gonna be ill during the flu season, which seems to happen every month these days! But when I am ill, he is my doctor and he is my nurse.

4. He lends his hears to my shouty mouth when I am angry and/or aggravated for a vast variety of reasons: a shopkeeper not giving the answer I need, a taxi driver not knowing the way, politicians say idiotic things on TV, someone wasting the tap water, and every single work problem.

5. He will dance with the silliest moves just to make me laugh and try to forget all the above.

6. He reads the Bible and understands it.

7. He supports my causes. Even when we have so little, his generous heart never discourage me to give whatever that we have spare.

8. He is funny. And he is funny the British way, which is my kind of funny.

9. He watches Fashion Police as religiously as I do.

10. He is handsome in my eyes but not in his.

+1 He is not only the father of my child but he really fathers my son so well that the kid literally jumps up and down welcoming him back from workL only for him, not me. And that is the kind of man one should marry. How lucky am I?

The kind of man one should marry.

The kind of man one should marry.

Happy anniversary, honey!

The last few years of my life have been full of so much change and turmoil, it’s hard to remember that it was only three years ago that Rebecca and I tied the knot. In between that momentous and overwhelmingly joyous occasion and today, we’ve all but lost my mother to a dreadful brain disorder, lost my grandmother, my sister has battled (and beaten) cancer, we have had to up sticks and move home at very short notice, and, of course, given birth and reared our active, playful, boisterous and definitely full-on 2-year-old son, Rayven.

Today (April 7) marks our third anniversary. And Rebecca will be the first to tell you — and I will be first to admit — that I am generally bad with cards and presents, while Rebecca excels not only at selecting imaginative and appropriate gifts, but also in fashioning the most creative home-made cards possible. She is the consummate planner and most thoughtful partner.

But I do have a gift, I think, and that’s the gift of words, so this is my message to Rebecca on this day; I hope she gets to read it.

First off, I am grateful that she agreed to marry me in the first place. Our engagement wasn’t much of a success because of me: I fluffed the proposal in spite of having a unique engagement gift in the form of my grandmother’s antique ring. What an idiot, and all through lack of planning and bad execution.

Then we had my parents out in December 2011, a trip they barely survived (partly because of AirAsia’s shabby long-haul service) and which involved them attending an Indonesian-style engagement party that must have been overwhelming to them (it was to me). It’s a testament to Rebecca’s organizational skills and their endurance that we all lived to tell the tale after.

Secondly, I have Rebecca – and only Rebecca – to thank for organizing and executing the wedding. Now that I’ve been in Indonesia for some time and seen how things work, or rather how they don’t work much of the time, it’s all the more impressive that she was able to handle everything from selecting the invites to choosing the catering. I recall that I selected some of the music for the after-party and did some food tasting, but generally I was an observer of the Rebecca-as-professional-planner show.

I still don’t know how much it all cost: I daren’t ask. But Rebecca is CFO of our family unit (see how much I rely on her?) and she balanced it all out so that we paid for our reasonably lavish wedding without having to ask anyone to contribute financially. It was a marvellous day, resplendent in sunshine, smiles and love. From the service sheet to the piano melody of “In My Life” by the Beatles (“our” song) that played as she walked down the aisle, it all went like clockwork. And it was all down to Rebecca – even helping with everything from my best man buying a suit in Bali at the last minute to helping my sister and my nephew with their Bali orientation program.

Since that time, I’ve grown to rely on, and love, Rebecca even more than I did then. She always describes herself as unlikeable, but to me, she is more than likeable: she is a wife and mother to two boys. She is a reliable wing-man; an honest confessor; a trusted advisor; and, of course, a valued co-parent. I have to confess that even though I have spent far more time with Rayven than she has, it’s Rebecca’s influence that has driven most of his accomplishments to date, including calling me “daddy.”

When she accepted her current job, I have to admit that I wasn’t happy with the decision, but she has balanced the role of mother and wife with being a communications director with aplomb. And we couldn’t have survived my recent six months of unemployment if she hadn’t been working. She also took the lead on our two trips to the UK, and organizes every trip we make to Bali, plus my Singapore visa trips, and our fantastic trip to the Gili islands a year or so ago.

So without playing down my role too much, you can see how much Rebecca shoulders in our partnership. She thinks I don’t notice, but that’s only because I am not the most demonstrative partner (although I am getting better). I do notice, appreciate and thank her for all she has done and continues to do, from the bottom of my heart.

Honey, I love you with all my being. Thanks for being there for this flawed, imperfect man. Here’s to three years and to many more happy times ahead.

With love, Matthew (and a kiss from Rayven)

Happiest day of my life so far

Happiest day of my life so far, along with the birth of our son

The day I fell in love with my son

One question I’d like to ask fellow mothers is: when did you fall in love with your baby?

This can be a hard question because books say (and society expects) for you to fall in love at the first sight (sight of positive home pregnancy test, ultrasound result, or newborn baby). Some mothers do experience that but some don’t. And those who don’t might feel pressured or confused or guilty, and these feelings can lead to baby blues. Unidentified prolonged baby blues can turn into post-partum depression. So you see now how my question can be a tough question to answer honestly.

I personally didn’t fall in love with my son at the first sight and I did experience baby blues. The two had no causative relation but were equally worrying.

I felt blue because of a number of reasons. One of them is that things didn’t go to my birth plan. (I know birthing process has a life of its own but for a control freak, this freaked me out!) My 27-hour-long early labor that ended with a caesarean *and* endometriosis operation was a guarantee to a long recovery time. I didn’t cry when I saw my baby for the first time. But tears came down my eyes as Matthew and I decided to move forward with the C-section. “This is not what I wanted,” I cried. (Matt’s note: I did cry when I saw our son for the first time, for the record.)

Emotionally, I couldn’t be too excited about the new baby because I was still mourning the loss of my mother-in-law. She was and is still alive, but she lost her memory completely and suddenly. We never had the chance to say goodbye to her lucid self. She had prepared Ray’s christening present before she fell ill. I haven’t opened it yet, but it will surely be treasured.

So yeah, it was hard for me to “feel” anything towards my child other than the logical thoughts to protect and keep him healthy. I just saw him as a responsibility. I know Matthew often tells me that I’m callous (half the time he’s being serious) but I thought I should feel something!

One morning when he was 11 days old, I noticed his right eye had some gunk. I wiped it off and wiped it off again. It got worse. Apparently it was an infection and my midwife aunt told me to just give it a couple of drops of my breast milk and it should be fine in a few days.

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our poor little guy

 

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healing breast milk eye-drops

I realized it was his first illness and he looked weak and rather awful with pus coming out of his swollen red eye. I looked at him for a long time, at his imperfect face. At that point I learned that I do love him and I love him unconditionally.

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cured within three days

You see, I don’t like kids and I especially don’t like ugly kids, so I must have been in love with my son even with his poor eye. Now, thanks to the miraculous power of breast milk Ray is well and healthy (if fat and mushy), and I love him to death.