Life's a tough proposition, and the first hundred years are the hardest.Wilson Mizner (1876 - 1933)

How tough are you?
Do you have a low threshold of pain?
Or are you one of those bizarre people who can break an arm and continue your tennis game?

I’ve been asking myself these questions lately.
I’ve always prided myself in being pretty tough.

When I was a child, skinned knees and bumps on the head were all so familiar to me. No big deal. I crashed my bike a zillion times, fell in the big longkang a couple of times and rolled head-over-heels down a hill on my skateboard more times than I can remember. But every time, I got up smiling.
The thrill was worth the pain.

This lunacy spilled over into my teenage years.
I remember when I was 16 and was running the 200m race during sports day. Half-way through the race, I tripped and twisted my ankle. But because the crowd was screaming and my parents were in the stands, I got up, grimaced, clenched my fist and continued the race. Came in 3rd.
The pain was horrific but I labored on, my eyes on the finishing line.

And I also remember the day I accidentally tore-up my wrist.
How the heck did I manage to do that?
Well, according to my dad, if it’s capable of breaking, tearing or musnah’ing, Diha will find a way to do it.
A sarcastic man, my dad.

It was a simple, stupid accident actually. I tried to open a window by pushing it with my wrist instead of using the little lever. The gash was very deep – I could see my flesh, veins and bones. Blood was spurting out like crimson fountains.
An awful sight. And the pain was ghastly too.
But I slept all through the surgery and a couple of days after the incident, I was hiking up to Bakun dam with my family and friends.

Diha perasan tough.

When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918 - ), "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art", 1980

But am I REALLY as tough as I THINK I am?
Will I be able to endure the pain of childbirth?
Will I bear the anguish of labor pains with dignity?
Or will I be screaming like a banshee and lashing out at well-meaning nurses?
Or worse…
Will I give up in the face of torment and endanger the baby?

I guess this is what it means about being grown-up.
When one’s actions are not one’s own to bear.

If the pain is something only I have to endure and there are no consequences to be borne by others, I’m all for it.
Ok’lah, I’m not ‘all for it’, but I can tolerate it, insyaAllah.

But if the pain is one which may imperil the people I love... that’s a different matter altogether.

Before I got married, I was quite a risk-taker.
I drove like a speed-demon. I wasn’t careful about what I ate (I know what fried grasshopper tastes like... And I know what most flowers taste like too...)
I wanted to bungee-jump, sky-dive, parachute off a cliff, that kinda thing. My parents were not too keen on their eldest daughter being such a foolish daredevil and more often than not, they’d put their foot down and ‘forbid such idiocies”.

After I got married, nobody needed to ‘forbid’ anything anymore. The only thing I would do is snorkel and parasail. I’d look at a bungee-jumper and I’d sigh in admiration but I don’t bug my parents to let me have a try.
Why?
Because now, I have a husband to think about.
If I did something risky like bungee-jump and then I died, he’d kill me.

Gone are the days when I was a selfish, egotistical, thoughtless individual.
(Okay la... it’s not ALL gone but I’m much LESS so! Now, stop snorting.)

Now that I’m counting the days to mommyhood, I’ve got to learn to be selfless and considerate. It’s not about Me Me Me Me anymore. I’m no longer a 'young lady' or a ‘newlywed’ – I have a family of my own now.

Am I tough enough to make this change?

Lets hope so.

You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
Rosalynn Carter (1927 - )