We have been looking for a new house to rent for the last couple of days. We have checked several including one right across my in-laws'. The house been empty for quite sometime and we have noticed that house also for quite sometime. It is a one story house which said to be unsuitable for Kelapa Gading with its seasonal flood. Despite all other similar unsuitable facts, the house is very suitable for our need, for our very own fact.

The house is planned to be lived in on the 2nd of August 2008, we are happy already because for the very first time of our marriage life, we will have something to be called a proper house. Not a room, not a pavilion, but a one complete, independent HOUSE.

Two bed rooms, a living room, a dining room, a bathroom, a maid room, a kitchen and a wet washing area. The size is perfect for our indoor activities. The existence is suitable for our dream. The dream we are building piece by piece each day.

Fajar and I agreed to fill the house without any unnecessary force. We both feel the same toward the house, it is where we want to build our future from. A place we want to stay long enough before we could afford to buy our own.

It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home.

The living room will not yet to have a living set. The dining room also won't have the proper table and chairs. Many other things will not yet be in there to make it a happy furniture-filled-house but the house will be a home of three angels who will immediately fill it with their voices. Makes it warm and lively again after its long emptiness.

It is a very exciting experience we are going to have in that house. It is like having a new clean white paper to do art with. We are allowed to use pencils or maybe charcoal, water paint, crayons, pastels to art our dream on. The fact that we will have to save every penny for any furniture we want is not making it any harder. It will be a fun process to go through. Every furniture will be picked carefully based on many aspects but to make them control us. Life is so much larger than the furniture isn't it?

I mostly imagine to have row of bookshelves by one of the wall. Maybe even two walls. A corner of working space for my husband after we make peace about the position of the computer. Other than that nothing seems to be pretty crucial to think about except for making all things clean and save for the children.

Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence ... and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. ~ Frederick W. Robertson

We have marked dates to do all the preparation necessary for the move-in. We have discussed a lot of things for us to be able to move into the new house. That is one of the thing I like about my spouse. No matter how ugly can a discussion goes, we discuss no matter what. All the decisions were made together, after all it's a home we are building.

Home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. ~ Robert Montgomery

I am a hydrophobic, fear of water that is. Get me into a pool and you will see me sinking like a stone into the bottom of it, my body paralyzed in the water. Living in Kelapa Gading for the last 2 years had gotten me into two flood experiences which let my husband did all the wet activities all by himself.

I can still remember how it happened, a 5 years old walked all by herself on the beach, toward the sea, not realizing, busy collecting seashells. Then the ground disappear! No more to put my feet on. The water swallowed me. Rolled under water, gasping for air but drinking water instead. Then something bumped me. Big enough to hold, it was an adult's leg! He carried me back to the beach, put me on my stomach. The water went out. No more water other than bathing ever since. Never got myself close to any pool.

Then in April 2008 at the age of 31 years old, a company outing, I decided to face a river on a rafting activity. The lake was Citarik, the surrounding was gorgeous. The idea of facing my fear sounded so cool. More said to me not to do it, but it won't be me if I did what they said. I put on the life jacket, held my oar, put a proud face a little too soon. Then when the rubber raft hit the water and swayed by it, I couldn't help telling myself what a stupid idea it was. I cursed myself more vicious than I ever did to anyone in the world. It was only 100m away from the departing dock when we hit another raft between 2 giant rocks, our raft was literally folded like a sandwich by the water force from the back. All on board was thrown-out to the water. The water swallowed me. The life jacket made me spilled out by the dragon-mouth-like wave. But the dragon did not let me go so easily, I was swallowed back in, rolled back into the depth of the water and my right hand got stuck between 2 sharp rocks at the bottom of the river. Maybe that was the dragon's teeth. Needed 2-3 seconds to shake my hand out. On the surface a raft buddy already in a secure floating position and I fiercely held on to his life jacket until we all got rescued. I can still remember his expression when he saw me came out of the water, like he saw an ugly fierce dragon. Lucky he then realized I was not a dragon no matter how ugly my expression was. The next 4 kilometers of the river got through by ducking my body every time I saw some bumpy curves and that was not even instructed. When we reached the finish line I said, that was it? Horror had not even left my face.

I felt guilty for awhile for risking myself that way, I mean, I could've been so panic I couldn't let myself out from the rock and drowned. When I came back home, the guilt held me from telling the story to Fajar and for awhile looking to my children's eyes. I was fortunate God was there too at Citarik river. No, I will not do it again. Risking my life to proof something seems unnecessary. Next time I have to go facing a huge amount of water that will be when my children are in danger in it. Everytime I tried to excerpt a lesson from that decision, the picture of water swallowing me retained me from getting one. I hope by the time one of my children is to face a fear, wet or dry, I will have something good to say.

2008 has not been a great year for me. It is probably one of the worst since I was brought into this world. And it is still in July.

2008 has been the year where my strength is being tested to the very last bit of its thread.
In the early days of the year, we got a news of my husband being HIV+.
The news did not stop there, it was followed with many facts which submerged along with the research we did on the disease, including the possibility that my youngest son who still 3 months old at the time might also has it.
Oh yes, I might have it too but then dismissed by a screening test which did not confirm us that my youngest son, Ilya, has the good news too.
I really want to be excused from the obligation to explain why is it so, but then again, to have a blog comes with a responsibility. So, here we go.

A baby could not be determined of being HIV+ until s/he reached over 6 months old, since the screening test is based on the amount of anti-HIV in the body. The baby could have the high level of anti-HIV passed from the mother but not necessary the virus itself. If the level of the anti-HIV did not reduce within 6 months then the possibility of HIV+ is increasing, then more tests should be done from time to time until confirmed positive or negative.

Yes, I passed the test. But it was the screening test which should be done every 3 months. It is possible that by the time I did the test, I was still in the window time, where my anti-HIV has not formed. If I passed my next screening test then we can also celebrate for Ilya.
I hope to have a party to arrange.

Now please, spare me of telling you how I deal with this ordeal. My emotional battle and so on and so on. I will just say, I have it. Yes, tears and all.
The next day I went to a bank, made a new education saving on the name of my daughter. I also rearranged my attitude toward some assholes at work so I could manage to temporary save my job. Sometime my survival mode disturbed my husband. It disturbed me too, very much, coz I really like it sometime if I could just crawl on the floor crying for days and feel sorry for our family, for my husband, for my babies, for myself, break down. But no matter how much I like that idea I could never manage myself to be in that point. I am this woman who mostly cried because if a huge anger not sadness.

Angry? Am I angry? Why should I? To what? To whom?
To God? No... I could never be angry to the One who have taken care of me to this very second and will to my very last breath.
Let's stop there. On God, I mean.
Because even that I am not angry to Him, I do not like to discuss Him.
So save your words of telling me to go to church, read bible or pray.
He is my most private business so butt out!!!

My first born son, Igo, is a sweet child. A handsome boy with the sweetest giggle to ears.
No music even the masterpiece could manage to out listed the sound of his giggles.
He is the first of everything in our family. First son, first grandson, first nephew. Yes, to both sides.
He is now 3 years and 5 months old and an autistic child.
He has not yet talked. He avoids eye contacts more than 2 seconds. He does that only to those he please. That goes with touching too. You can not touch him unless he initiates. He likes round stuff, wheels, balls, etc. He likes routines.
According to our little research on the net he might have a mild one. To have the assumption confirmed by a professional is like taking a punch on the stomach. I saw it coming and when it touched my belly, it hurt.

Igo will have his sessions with the professionals, very soon I hope. Igo will not be treated differently. He is our son who will receive everything he needs accordingly. Igo will be brought-up with love toward his own-chosen future. Period.

My husband, Fajar, will also receive his medical supports. It goes without saying.
I will not treat him differently too. I still pout when he whines.
I love him.
With that love comes all effort simply to make him happy.
Happiness could put extra seconds or maybe minutes to his life.
I want him to live. Period.

The year 2008 may not be the happiest year of my life but certainly the year that built me.
The year 2008 has not shaken me down and will not too.
I promise you, o dear 2008, by the time you're finished I will only count the bless you bring.
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Related post from the hubby

Music has always been my favorite companion. So when unquote gave a gift of a features-packed MP3 Player, it instantly became my best friend. The ear buds really shut me out of the morning noise of Boulevard Raya Kelapa Gading on my way and back from office.

I packed everything pleasing to my ears from Chris Brown to Michael Buble, 3 Doors Down to Rammstein, Kosheen to Mika, Daughtry to INXS or U2, and of course I could manage to squeeze in my favorite classical number of Bach - Brandenburg Concerto No.3 and Haydn's Symphony No.8. These last two numbers are my favorite not only to walk but also to do my private business in the toilet. I call as it my private cultural moment.

My music taste is not special. It's rather common, in my opinion. I, however, am very poor concerning local music. Then again, it is about taste. Very few could indulged my ears nor my heart. And many failed to escape my scolding for their courage to call whatever they wrote as music.

One afternoon few minutes before I could happily wrap my day at office for not having much to do, a colleague was having a conversation about what she called music and she made a very brave statement that she knows music from most people (in office).
It was really a shocking statement to hear because she is not unquote with his mind-fucked playlist. Her playlist consists Kangen Band, Ungu and some second graded progressives.

Her statement was rather insulting to my cultural taste.

After a line (or maybe two) denial about not having any problem to the band and their tunes, she called her own cellphone from the landline and on the speakers too. Her ring back tone is that horrible sound from the-not-so-selling-band's-name. I immediately admit at the feet of my almighty and before the eyes of my fellow plurkers that I do have problems with that band and their courage to call whatever that was as music.

She has her taste alright, not sense. True, very true.
Playing Yoyo Ma's Cello Concerto or maybe even Alicia Keys's No One will not help to tell her that she is senseless in term of music.
So I continue wrapping my day at the office. Plug my ears with "Down with the sickness" from Disturbed. Beside, my dearest husband was already downstair with his own MP3 Player, probably playing Depapepe's Summer Parade.