“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.“
– Shmuley Boteach, author
IT has been exactly a week since I have been elevated to the status of a mother – a title that still feels surreal and sacred at the same time.
In many ways, I am still adjusting to the sound of it.
Mother. It rolls off the tongue gently, but it carries weight, one that I never imagined I’d be carrying so soon.
Like many women in their late twenties, I had a roadmap laid out for myself.
There were career ambitions I wanted to chase, places I dreamed of exploring, and personal milestones I thought I needed to reach before stepping into this chapter of life.
However, as life often reminds us, we are not always in control of the timing.
The arrival of my son, Mohd Rafael Elyyas, was unexpected but nothing short of a blessing.
Initially, his estimated due date was 22 July, and I was eager for him to be a Sarawak Day baby.
But my pregnancy journey came with its own unique set of circumstances.
I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes mellitus (GDM), which meant my care had to be a little more closely monitored.
My doctor, after a series of tests and assessments, decided it would be best to induce labour earlier than expected.
And so, on 8 July, I surrendered myself – both literally and emotionally – to Sarawak General Hospital (SGH) for induction.
I remember feeling a wave of conflicting emotions: nervous anticipation, fear of the unknown, and a quiet acceptance that, ready or not, this was happening.
The process was long, exhausting, and at times overwhelming.
But after nearly two days of checking in at SGH, my little Rafael made his grand entrance into the world at 5:04 am on 10 July, weighing 3.25 kilograms.
In that single, earth-shattering moment, everything changed.
People often talk about the magic of holding your baby for the first time.
I now understand why.
Time slowed, the noise around me faded, and all I could focus on was his face – so familiar, yet so new.
There he was: my son.
My little miracle.
A perfect mix of tiny features and soft sighs, wrapped in hospital blankets, and yet somehow holding the entirety of my heart in his palm.
Since then, the days have passed in a blur.
Every hour is filled with feeds, diaper changes, late-night wake-ups, and those quiet in-between moments where the house is still and all I can do is watch him sleep.
These early days of motherhood are physically demanding and emotionally intense.
I won’t sugar-coat it – there have been tears, uncertainty, and moments where I questioned if I was doing anything right.
But amid the messiness of it all, there is beauty.
A beauty I never expected to find in being needed so deeply, in the rhythm of his breathing against my chest, in the way his tiny fingers wrap around mine like he never wants to let go.
Motherhood, I have come to realise, doesn’t mean losing who I was before.
It doesn’t erase the woman who had dreams, ambitions, and a fierce drive to achieve more.
Rather, it adds a new dimension to my identity.
I am still here – just more.
More patient, more empathetic, more grounded.
And with Rafael now by my side, my purpose has expanded.
The lens through which I view the world has changed.
There is an incredible softness that comes with being someone’s mother, but there is also an unshakable strength.
The kind of strength that keeps you going on just two hours of sleep, that allows you to function even when your body is still healing, that makes you instinctively tune in to every cry, every whimper, and every need.
I have also come to appreciate the importance of support from my husband, family, the nurses and doctors who guided me through the hardest parts of labour.
It truly does take a village, and I have felt that in every helping hand and reassuring voice.
Rafael may only be a week old, but he’s already taught me more than I can express.
He’s taught me to slow down, to be present, to embrace the unpredictable, and to find joy in the smallest things.
There is so much I have yet to learn, but I am embracing each lesson as it comes – sleep-deprived and all.
This is just the beginning of our story together.
In my next column, I will share more about my delivery experience at SGH – from the reality of induction to the unsung heroes working around the clock to ensure both mother and baby are safe.
It’s an experience that deserves to be told, especially for other expecting mothers who may soon walk the same path.
Until then, I will be soaking in these fleeting newborn moments with Rafael – the little boy who changed everything, and in doing so, made my world infinitely brighter.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sarahhafizahchandra@gmail.com.
