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It's a few minutes before my birthday. It's not that I'm awake to countdown. I'm having painful stubborn clogged milk ducts. I had meeting the whole day, managed to pump only in the morning. Once reached home, nursed Sheraz two times but still it's clogged. Sheraz is now sleeping for the night, need to wait for another 4-5 hours until he wakes up to drink. I've been trying to pump, put warm cloth, massage, taking hot shower but still it's clogged. I have to do something to avoid this escalating into mastitis.

So now I have different perception on birthday. It's not about expecting birthday cakes or parties or gifts. My birthday is the anniversary of the date on which my mother dealt with pain of labour. And ever since she's been sacrificing her time and energy, perhaps her life for me. I should be grateful. I know there's nothing I can do to pay for all her devotion. So now, for all the times I didn't say it before, Thank you, ibu.