Of wishes and blessings...(Edited because the author keeps losing track of her thoughts)

We had the little sprog's Cukur Jambul ceremony over the weekend. Although I'm not usually one for traditional practices, I'm glad that both mum and Mr. Mine had pushed for it.

My venture into motherhood thus far has been pretty uneventful. So much so that I've been telling Mr. Mine that I don't really feel like somebody's mother. The little sprog has been an angel of a baby and has adjusted well to practically every new change we've introduced to him. That and the fact that his birth was pretty much devoid of pain and suffering thanks to Epidural. Alhamdullillah, God has been very kind to us.

To tell you the truth, prior to the event on Saturday, becoming a mother to a brand new person made of my own flesh and blood felt like just another normal progression in life. There was no big fanfair, bells or whistles. I see now why society is laden with rituals and ceremonies. Sometimes you just need an elaborate affair to remind you of how blessed you are.

I've never been to a Cukur Jambul before and I'm not going to explain what the ceremony is all about. I would recommend that you google it and read about it somewhere else. In this scribble, I just want to share what it was like for me and the things I felt.

On Saturday, in addition to the host of sisters, aunties, grandmothers and cousins that make up my very female-dominant family, about 30 other women came over to mum's house to give thanks and sing praises to God Almighty on the birth of the little sprog. It brought to mind that bit from the fairytale, Sleeping Beauty, when fairy godmothers were invited to come and bless the new baby.

I secretly loved that fact that it was a "female" ritual because if you really wanna go back to rituals and traditions in the broadest sense, it was during the time of the druids and the priestesses that worshipped the Mother Goddess that women and children were celebrated because birth was and still is, a very sacred event in a woman's life. (I'm a closet feminist and my fav book of all time is The Mists of Avalon - don't ask!).

One part of the ceremony involved me rocking the little sprog to sleep while "the covenant" of ladies sang a song that spoke of the sacrifices of pregnancy and being a mother, fighting for your life during the birthing process and basically the essence of being a woman. That was the one that kicked me into reality. (Ed, - although, as rightly pointed out EB, the part when they sang "tak lalu makan" didn't apply to us at all!). All this while, I've been living in a constant state of surrealism. Elle later told me that some of the ladies were seen wiping away tears. The little sprog was a perfect angel the whole time (and a loOOOng time it was). Not a peep from him although I knew he was rather hungry and it was time for his elevenses (ref: hobbit meal times).

Another part of the ceremony was the bestowal of blessings and the ritual hair cutting. (Ed. - you shoud've seen the little sprog menepis tangan makcik2 ittew. He's all about the hair! Don't touch his hair!!!) Carried by Daddy-O, the little sprog was taken around the room for the ladies to kiss him/cut a tiny bit of his hair and drop it in the young coconut/feed him a teensy weensy bit of honey or smushed up date. I cringed when some of the ladies grabbed big bunches of his hair but luckily he had enough to go around as evident by this pic which was taken after the event. He's still sporting the Mohawk albeit a little choppy in places.

All in all, it was a good day. Being surrounded by family and friends is always good. Thank you all for coming and sharing this day with us. It meant quite a lot.