Pregnancy Q&A

After experiencing two pregnancies, I don't think I could go through another pregnancy again. And so, when  stumbled upon this, I thought that this is pretty hilarious and worth a share.

 

Getting an Amnio

When I was about 16 weeks pregnant with Squirt, the results from one of the routine blood test had immediately put me in a high-risk group of having a baby with Down syndrome. 

The odds that was presented to me was 1 in 55 as compared to the average of 1 in 256 (according to the doctor) for women my age.  The numbers presented seemed scarier when the doctor compared it to my previous results when I was pregnant with Spud – 1 in 1188.

As much as the thought of a fat-ass needle being poked through my stomach sickened me to death, we knew that I had to get the amniocentesis done. I knew that I want to get the test done, and there would also be no question as to what our decision was to be if I was to carry a child with Down…

For those not familiar with amniocentesis, the test involves taking a small amount of amniotic fluid, i.e the water that surrounds the baby in the womb which contains cells from the baby that will be tested in the laboratory. Before the test is performed, however, an ultrasound scan will be carried out to check the estimated gestation period and the position of both the baby and the placenta.  When all of that is done, the skin over the abdomen is cleaned and a fine needle is then inserted into the stomach to extract the fluid from the womb. Throughout the procedure, the position of both the baby and the needle are monitored by the ultrasound.

I remember squeezing the hell out of Silver Bullet’s hand when the needle was inserted in my stomach – mostly because I always cringe at the sight of needle and just out of sheer nervousness. I had my eyes closed the entire time, not wanting to look even at the ultrasound screen.  To be honest, though, it was a relatively short test of not more than 5 minutes. It was over before I knew it, and, really, the thought of it was worse than the actual test. The entire experience was more uncomfortable rather than painful.

When it was over, I was given quite a high dose of Ventolin in a tablet form (apparently to help relax the uterus) and was under strict instruction to restrict my movement for 2-3 days. I thought it was a bit exaggerated, thinking that I should still be able to go to work the next day. After all, I am mostly desk-bound.  But Doctor Ah-Chai meant business. In fact, he put his foot down by giving me 2 days of medical leave instructing me to do a lot of bed rest.

While I had no intention to follow his instructions (which I really thought was an over exaggeration), I bit my tongue. Little did I know that the aftermath of Amnio can be so exhausting!  By the time I got home, my heart started to palpitate quite aggressively – a side effect of the Ventolin. I had something that felt similar to period pain and I felt so exhausted that I could hardly peel myself away from the couch. This continued on for the next 2 days as the cramps persisted and the exhaustion overwhelmed me.  It has to be said that Dr. Ah-Chai wasn’t kidding about me having to do some bed rest and stay off my feet!

What became more agonizing was the weeks and weeks of waiting. One week became two and two weeks became three, and then we were due to fly to Holland for our 2-week vacation. When I called after 14 days, they informed me that they were still testing it; which lead to further nervousness on my end, thinking that something was godawfully wrong.

At that time, I was only too aware of the timeline that they may just release the results when we were already in Holland, and by then I was well into my 24 weeks of pregnancy to consider TOP (termination of pregnancy) had the results been unfavourable. It was just excruciatingly tormenting!

Then one day, out of the blue, I received a phone call from the doctor while I was still in a meeting.

As I excused myself from the board room, Dr Ah-Chai started off the conversation on how I was in the high-risk group. He then continued on explaining the numbers and how that relates to the risk, how my age can be a factor, how I stacked up against other women my age group and how it would impact on the test results. 

At this point, my heart started palpitating again and I swear he was just prepping me up for the kill. Instead of giving me the results, he then rattled on the risk and a 2% chance of my baby being Down. 

I remembered telling myself, “OMG! He IS going to tell me that I am in that 2%, isn’t he?”

So I let him went on, about ready to piss in my pants and burst into tears as I waited on the other end of the line for him to deliver his final blow. Of which, he ended by saying, “ I strongly recommend you to go for Amniocentesis!”

That was when I got confused, and said, "But Doc, I already did the Amnio. You were the one who did it a few weeks ago. I am waiting for the results now”

He then replied, “Oh? Really? But I don’t have your report here…oh wait! The nurse just came in with your results. I had the wrong one. Hold on. “

He made me wait for another 10 seconds which seemed like eternity before her said, 

“Congratulations! Everything is fine . Your test results looks good. Nothing to worry about!”

Of which, I immediately let out a huge sigh of relief. I then asked him again if he had the right report and practically bombarded him over and over and over again if he was sure that everything was fine before we ended the conversation.

He reassured me that the test came out negative, and with Amnio, one can be really certain that all chromosomal disorders, including Down Syndrome,  trisomy 13, trisomy 18, and sex chromosome abnormalities (such as Turner syndrome and Klinefelter syndrome) can be detected with >99% accuracy. (Although I wasn’t sure if my test was only for Down)

While it was a huge load off my shoulders, I cannot believe that my doctor can be such a doof-head sometimes! I was thinking perhaps he could do with a course on how not to deliver any news by emphasizing on risks and the chance of it happening and actually letting his patient believe that he was about to deliver bad news.

Talking about the doctor being a bit of a doof-head, while we always make it a point to remind him that we don’t want to know the gender whenever he did an ultrasound scan,  he also had accidentally let us know the gender of our baby at our next check-up . This time, he had absent-mindedly flashed the results of the Amniocentesis test on his computer screen to us while he picked up a call from his mobile.

I have always preferred not to know the gender, wanting it to be a surprise just like we had with Spud. Hence, I was beyond bummed when my eyes caught sight of the gender, and when we told him that we did not want to know, his reply was, “Oh! I’m sorry. It happens!”

Of which, came my reply, “I don’t want to knooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww!!!! “

Gahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So there you go. An extremely amiable and very decent doctor, but just a little bit of a doof-head.

The story of my life - I guess, nothing beats the spices being littered in every now and then to make it allthe more exciting!

My not-so-amazing birth story

We arrived at the hospital bright and early on the D-DAY, at 7 am on the 1^st June 2012.

This time, all seemed relaxed, calm and orderly. There was no rush to it and I was prepped up pretty well.  Most important of all, I was not doped up out of my head. I was lucid throughout the entire process and this time round, I did not fight with the Anesthetician. :)

In fact, I had one of the most experienced Anesthetician on board (she is 74 years old! When she told us her age, I had a mental image of shivering hands trying to administer epidural on me on my spine and missing the mark!). She was gentle, kind, reassuring and despite her age, still extremely alert, chatty and lucid. She took the time to explain what she was going to do and how it would make me feel. Most of all, she very kindly accommodated to my request of wanting to have Silver Bullet around with me for the entire procedure. Having Silver Bullet with me the entire time was one huge comfort factor to calm my nerves whilst at the operating table – particularly at the point of when she was administering the epidural. 

In no time at all, Dr. Ah-Chai walked in, worked on me and pulled Squirt out.  I was done in no more than 40 minutes before they isolated me into the recovery room for 2 hours. I like the fact that I was completely lucid and alert the entire time, and none of that doped-up feeling nonsense.

The only difference this time was that I barely held Squirt after they pulled him out. And that was only for a few mandatory after-delivery pictures.

After about half an hour of being isolated in the recovery room, I started breaking out in sweat and was feeling so nauseated that I was throwing up almost all of the time – rendering me useless to hold Squirt for his first breastfeeding session while in isolation.

The nausea and vomiting lasted for at least 2 more hours after that; an apparent side effect from the anesthesia. The sweating thing continued for a good 3 days - they came in super hot flushes, especially at night. All I know was that 2 drops of morphine was being used in the epidural and that had caused the side-effects.  The dizziness lasted for at least another day.  All of which I did not experienced in the last C-Sect.

What was different this time round however, was the fact that I regained the feeling to my legs a few hours after the surgery. In the last C-Sect, the feeling in my legs had only returned the next day.  By about 3 pm that same day, I was not feeling any sort of excruciating pain and could also lift myself up in bed – something which I was not able to do in the last surgery, at least not until a few days later.

The IV Drip and the catheter were both removed by noon the next day and within the hour after that, something amazing happened. Despite being a little dizzy still, I could actually move myself from the bed, put both my feet down on the floor and walked that first few crucial steps to the bathroom!

I was beyond relief! What was great about it this time was that before the end of the day, I was already able to walk very, very slowly to the nursery which was about 10-20 meters away from my room.  Quite a feat considering I’ve been cut opened at the abdomen 30 hours prior!

I probably was walking at one-step-a minute-at-a-time, but hey! This was definitely and considerably better than my last C-Sect experience 2 years ago.

4 days after the operation later on a Monday, I was ready to be discharged. And by Monday 4.30 pm, we all went home, with a new baby in tow. 

It has to be said that my experiences with both C-Sects have been on two extremes. Granted, had I not have had such a traumatic experiencewith C-Sect before, I think I would not have believed that recovery would have been so difficult and hard if I were to base it on this experience alone. If it weren’t for my previous experience, I too, would also likely to believe that those who said they a were not able to get on their feet 3 days after the surgery would have been just an exaggeration.

I don’t know what it was that made such a stark difference. The only thing I could think of was the fact that I was a little bit well-prepared mentally and relaxed. On the hindsight, the type of anesthesia used could also play a very important factor as to how the whole thing played out. Who knows!

In any case, everything turned out well. And that, my friends, has been my not-so-amazing-birth-story of all time. 

No going ooooh..and…ahhh of how beautiful it was to have the perfect and beautiful birthing experience. Mine was just straight-off clinical and actually, I’m not so sure if I would even call it birth. Truthfully, it seemed more like an “extraction” of a baby than anything else. 

Whatever that was, it doesn’t matter to me. Whatever the metaphor that was used, birth via cesarean  marks the beginning of a new life.

I am cynical and,  at this point,  I am not actually looking forward to the first 6 months where we’ll yet again be subjected to a whole new world of unpredictability, trying to establish some  routine, breast-feeding, pumping milk, controlled crying, sleep training…and whatever else that comes with it.

Double the joy, double the chaos. Wish us luck.

Being Unpregnant: The Exit Strategy

You know, every so often, you would hear other women – be it your cousin, that woman behind the reception, your ex-classmate, your neighbour or your friend's friend, having their version of an “amazing birth story” to tell?

Well, you see, I am not one of those and I have absolutely none of those amazing crap to tell!

While I was somewhat hoping for a natural delivery this time round, I was also not very adamant about it. With my previous C-Sect history, I felt that the only thing I could do is be realistic about it. In fact, I was honestly not even sure if VBAC was the right option for me.

Given that I had no prior experience to having a natural birth before, I was also very aware of the potential risks and complications that could occur – in my case, natural birthing is the devil I never knew. 

On the other hand, I was also dreading having to go through another procedure of a Caesarean Section as I was only too aware of the aftermath of it. I was certainly not looking forward to another bad experience of being completely disorientated, drugged out and clamber out from a very painful and slow recovery process. 

I find it almost ridiculous and even stressful to impose Squirt’s exit strategy on me (I know, I know..bear with me on this one) If there is an option of having to vomit the baby out, I think I would rather do that.

While minor cramps and random contractions started when I was about 38 weeks, they were all just a tease. I was not showing any signs that real labour was imminent at all. My doctor, Ah-Chai, was kind enough to advise that I should wait up to 40 weeks (and not more than 41) to give it some more time.

In fact, at 40 weeks on my last check-up, my doctor revealed that my cervix was still tightly closed.

The baby was not engaged and I would have to give it at least another week to see if my cervix would have ripened by then.

With such a situation presented to me, we then thought that we'll wait it out for a couple more days but still schedule in a date for a C-Sect to be done.

2 nights passed, and still nothing happened. Somehow,  deep in my heart, I felt that scheduling for a C-Sect was the right thing to do.

It was not a case of “I’m done being pregnant” like last time, rather, it was more that I did not want to have to go through days and days of passive labour, being induced and then only to arrive at the conclusion that I needed an emergency c-sect at the end of it all.

While I know that every pregnancy can be different, I was also not counting on my body co-operating very well. At 40 weeks, it was showing signs that history was likely to repeat itself.

One thing for sure, I did not want to end the pregnancy with a post-partum blues. I wanted to save my sanity. A natural birth is not a be all, end all. While I am an advocate of most things being natural, and as much as I would like to pursue all things natural, I think I am more respectful of the fact that sometimes, intervention is necessary to minimize potential complications.

So having been at the end of the line, I made a decision to go for an elective c-sect.

I have been told by a few women acquaintances this, “Every women needs to experience labour pain and child birth. Your body knows what it is doing, so don’t always believe what the doctor says!”.

Truly, I thought that was a rather unfair statement to make., especially the bit about experiencing labour pain and child birth. Maybe there is no need to have to go through such pain. Not all women are made equal; some are just lucky to have it naturally, and in my case, not so much especially so if my body decides not to co-operate.

Regardless of the “exit strategy” one undertakes for a child to be delivered into this world, what matter most is that both mother and child are both healthy. That in itself is already a call for celebration.

In a way, I also cannot imagine myself being pregnant for another week longer! And, for me, given the circumstances, going for C-Sect seemed like it was the right thing to do.

My not-so-amazing-birth story coming up in the next few days to come link here.

Pregnant 2nd time round

My being pregnant for the second time round was never intended to be a big, fat secret even though I have never broached up the subject in my blog.

Rather, my reason(s) for not mentioning anything about it is largely because of my entire personal sentiments towards pregnancy and being pregnant – something which I wrote about a couple of years ago following Spud’s arrival.

My thoughts about it haven’t changed since. (The post can be found here.)

The second pregnancy was of course, not without worries. This time round, we were saddled with a real fear of me carrying a Down baby. The odds from the initial blood test were worrying enough to warrant an amniocentesis test. It was not the most fun period, and the way the result was delivered to me almost made me piss in my pants - a story for another post. 

While my second pregnancy was quite different from the first one, I still say that there is nothing enjoyable about being pregnant. I suffered from almost similar side effects, and I never have actually enjoyed my entire pregnancy – both first and second time. The only main differences I can remember were these: 

• I was throwing up several times a day, every day,right up to the 7^th  – 8^th  month of my pregnancy
• I had the most atrocious sciatic nerve pain for most part of the pregnancy
• I was craving for more sour food. The more sour it is, the more I want it!I lived for sour stuff.
• I REJECTED chocolates! In fact, I did not care for it – which essentially is pretty weird considering what a chocoholic I have always been 
•  I did not have that much appetite for food – any kind of food. As a result, I did not put on as much weight as I did with my first pregnancy (hurray!)
• I only wanted Coke/Pepsi or Ginger Ale – beverages which I have given up a long while back and in the case of Ginger Ale, something which I don’t usually care about.  The craving was intense, especially at breakfast! 
•  I did not have very much patience (or faith!) in people and fellow human beings
• I, however, did not have super major case of water retention like I did previously. In fact, I did not even swell up and I am able to still wear both my wedding and engagement ring right up to the day.

Being pregnant is a strange thing. To this day, I don’t quite understand how so many women had claimed that they enjoyed their pregnancy. I am certain that those statistics does not include me as I stayed uncomfortably pregnant throughout the entire time. 

This was me at 39+ weeks- and not looking very glam.

In any case, all things considered, everything had gone well this time round. In fact, way beyond my expectation -  and this was right up to the day when I was discharged from the hospital. 

All in all, I am just glad that this being pregnant thing is officially over. In fact, I am quite relieved that this is something which I don’t have to go through again in the years to come. Ever. 

As I have said before, I.AM.DONE. 

The only thing I will miss though will be the regular foot rubs emphatically administered by Silver Bullet almost every day.  I don’t really have any excuses to get foot rubs from him now that Squirt is out. Heh!

More stories and pictures from the recent days coming this way!

Mommy feet

My feet has grown.

By more than 1.5x shoe-sizes than I care to admit.

All of this since my pregnancy more than a year ago...

And I had thought that somehow, after more than a year later, I would somehow be able to wear my old shoes still. I was not looking forward to shop for shoes and I had thought (and really hoped!) that my feet would have shrunk again to its original size by now.

I tried on one of my old pair of platform shoes I used to wear before I got pregnant. And then try the other few more platform shoes I owned. My feet looked traumatised. And it makes me sad.

By now,  I cannot fit into most, if not all of them. I practically had to throw away at least 4 pairs of shoes by now; the very ones I used to use for work which I bought before I got pregnant. (I don't own that very many pair of shoes as compared to most of my female friends!)

Most of which were platform shoes...one of the very few styles I really like and, without verging on ugly platforms, are one of the very few types of shoes that are very hard to find these days.

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

And my feet is at least 2 sizes bigger now.

If you know me in person, you know that I am quite petite. Not slim (I wish!), but as compared to my husband, I am puny. With a very big feet. How bizarre is that?

As I found out, the changes to the size of me feet after birth is permanent...

Crap.

Yep. I'm going to be that puny lady with very big feet.

Which, on the hindsight is okay, really. I'll look funny, but still OK.

The thing is, I'm actually more annoyed at the fact that I need to go looking for decent shoes and anything that is above size 39 (or 8.5) will be quite a feat to get in this country. Which means that I'll probably be destined to only buy fugly shoes!

CRAP.

This time in 2010

I almost cannot believe that it took us nearly two years since Spud was conceived (20 months to be exact) and now reaching to the stage when Spud is now walking, and almost practically running!

As I recall, sometime this time last year, I was a waddling not-so-little big whale, walking around with a rather huge tummy and sporting a pair of a very swollen, tired feet.

At around this time last year, I had started working from home simply because I got too big to waddle to work every day as my ankles got so impossibly swollen that I just cannot be on my feet for too long. At that last stage of my pregnancy, it not only became quite a chore to walk to the office because I tire easily, but also because I was having a lot of difficulty navigating my way through a jammed up soi which has no room for any woman with a huge tummy to pass through.

Let me tell you this ridiculous story:

The few times I tried getting out the apartment, I ended up retreating my steps back home after only a few meters down the soi. The reason was really silly: it was NOT because I suddenly got too tired to walk (I’m sure I could if I pushed myself), but simply because there was no room for me to maneuver myself in between the temporarily stationary bumper-to-bumper vehicles while sporting a huge tummy. Sounds really ridiculous, I know, but if you live in Bangkok, it becomes a very plausible reason as to why I ended up not leaving my home! And no, I am not exaggerating here.

Thinking back though, while I enjoyed having been able to work from home for more than 2 weeks, it really was one of the most uncomfortable stages of pregnancy! In fact, as my tummy got bigger, my hand felt shorter as it was quite a chore to reach out to the mouse and typed on the keyboard when there was a tummy in the way. Sitting at the table was no longer comfortable, and I ended spending a lot of time working with the laptop (and sometimes a cat as well) on my lap. While it worked out a tad better than having to sit at a table, it still was not the best option as the stomach actually obstructed my view of the keyboard. A case in point:



Picture taken from top view, with the laptop resting on my lap 

So yes, even though I got to put my legs up all the time, the entire bit of working from home got a little bit annoying for me. Coupled with backache and all…it was not exactly fun, especially when you are being “cooped up” at home.
Still, I pushed myself. I worked till almost the end because I just cannot stand the thought of not doing anything. Even though I was mostly feeling tired, sleepy and constantly hot all the time, I kept myself busy. There was always something to do. Or if there isn’t, I’ll be sure to find something to do. I refused to be a tub of lard, ready to be blended in with the couch!

This was me and (some bits of me) sometime last year, at about 38 weeks, anxiously counting down to the imminent birth of Spud .

Photo courtesy of a professional photographer friend, BKKImages

Trying to get a perspective

Big, fat swollen feet

And in case you are wondering, no, I do not miss being pregnant.

Pregnancy: Nobody told me!

[WARNING: AN EXTREMELY LENGTHY BLOG POST]

My entire pregnancy has been one hell of a learning curve. I also discovered some shocking facts of my entire 41 weeks + 4 days of pregnancy that were just pure evil. They were far from fun and enjoyable. The list may sound rather graphic, so skip this post if you think that’s just “too much information”.

 Here goes my list…read it at your own risk!

#1: I suffered from involuntary incontinence almost the entire time I was pregnant. Every cough, sneeze, laugh will cause me to pee involuntarily. Not just a wee bit, but a massive bit! Especially when the tummy gets bigger with each passing week, resulting in me having to wear grandma’s underwear and panty-liners (later upgraded to normal sanitary pads!) 24/7. Very charming!

#2: The toilet became my best friend as I pee more than I ever did in my entire lifetime. I’m sure the increase in my water bill may have been attributed by the constant flushing going on at home.

#3: Besides the belly, everything else just grew. I suddenly developed smurf-like hands, except that they were not blue. They were fat; so,so fat that they looked stunted, as if they all are stuck together. I’m sure the Smurfs will be so proud of me!

#4: My entire feet literally just over-flowed from my shoes. My ankles were swelling nice almost the entire time of my pregnancy. So bad that I think if you poke my ankles with a needle, a water fountain will miraculously appear right before your eyes! You might as well throw a coin and make a wish. It got worse than it already was during my last 3 weeks that I was told to get OFF my feet for a few days or risk a termination of pregnancy. (a symptom associated with preeclampsia)

#5: My face, my chest and my neck became a thriving and conducive environment for The Acne. There were kahunas of a pimple sprouting everywhere, everyday. I thought my bad acne days from my teenage years were over. Those icky, big , fat and painful boil of a pimple just wasn’t fun when new ones keep sprouting on a daily basis.

#6: The crying hormones besieged me unexpectedly. I probably cried more than I ever did in my entire lifetime within a span of months. I became a softie as I cried over sappy movies and the not-so-sappy ones. I’m so lame I even cried over Amazing Race when the camera pans into “speeches” of the eliminated contestants towards the end of the program. I cried at almost every single episode.

#7: I seemed to be dropping anything and everything that I have in my hand. I then became a comic relief to Silver Bullet as he will laugh at me (although he insisted he was laughing WITH me) when I would try to pick the stuff I dropped on the floor and then wasn't very successful at it when my tummy got progressively bigger. I then mastered the art of picking things up with my toes before handing it over to The Hand. Later on, this became an impossible feat as although I could retrieve stuff off the floor with my toes, I could no longer pass it along to my hand as the tummy was in the way!

#8: Menstruation shape shifted in the form of bleeding gums. This happened every single day each time I brushed my teeth or flossed that it appeared as if I have used blood as a mouthwash.

 #9: “Pregnant Brain” was real. It did not happen all the time, but sometimes, even I myself was baffled at me. It’s like I go through the day on a switch off mode. 2 cases that came to mind:

• Bought something from the supermarket, paid for it and left. I mean, I JUST LEFT. I had to walk a good 200 meters back to the cashier at the supermarket to retrieve the stuff I already paid for which I conveniently forgot to take with me. DUH!

• One of those days after work, Silver Bullet called and asked if I needed a pickup from him since he was already close by. I enthusiastically said yes, all too happy for a free- ride home, and so packed up my stuff and left the office. When I walked out of the building I absent-mindedly hailed a cab, completely forgotten about Silver Bullet’s offer. I only remembered that Silver Bullet might already be waiting for me at the gas station where I was supposed to be picked up when I was almost home.

#10:  My obsession with food intensified a hundred fold, but for some reason, could not stomach Thai food. The sheer smell of any Thai food made me want to puke. I was in a “give me any other food, but Thai food” mode almost throughout my pregnancy.

#11:  I am usually rendered useless after 6 pm in the evening. I’ll come home from work and concussed on the couch by 7.30 pm and in bed by 9.30 pm every day of the week.

#12: Nothing prepared me for a perpetual blocked nose for the entire time which left me extremely dependent on the nose sprays. It was blocked the moment I wake up in the morning and will continue on throughout the day, especially when I’m in any air-conditioned area. Couple that with my sometimes-crying- hormones which completely hampered my breathing, and a breathing apparatus might just come in handy.

#13: Irritability to the max. Don’t even think of messing with me. I’ve got a raging hormone that could be unleashed in a nano second and you’ll be damn sorry you even tried.

#14: Most maternity clothes are just super FUGLY that made you look like a old hag. I refused to get one (until the last trimester that is) and tried to get away with flowy dresses.

#15: My belly suddenly became a public property. I’m OK with families and CLOSE friends touching my belly, but I really cringed at strangers or sheer run-of-mill acquaintances who smothered my belly.The worst are those who saw me from a distance and immediately start to stretch out their hands like Inspector Gadget. Suddenly, I (or rather, my belly) became their best friends.Colleagues aside, but strangers like the cleaning ladies in the office, waiting staff at restaurants or hotels or the sales persons at the mall became a tummy magnet.  Why can’t they just keep their hands to themselves?! Excuse me, but do you see me grabbing your ass?

#16: I get overly sensitive at times. Mess with my emotions and you won’t hear a bleep from me for a few days. Ask Silver Bullet.

#17: Dreams are just weird while pregnant. I remember one where I saw Silver Bullet’s adult head on Spud’s tiny body. Only, I didn’t know what the gender was.

#18: Out.of.Breath.All.The.Time. Enough said.

#19: Farts-and-burps became a shameless routine, especially so in the evenings and before going to bed. I’m sure they were the most pleasant sounding lullaby Silver Bullet had ever heard.

#20: Snoring became my middle name. As my tummy got bigger, the snoring became louder. So loud that Silver Bullet had to buy a pair of ear-plugs. As he put it, the melody of my snores sounded just like he was sleeping in a sawmill!

#21:Waddling became my signature walk by the 5th month since I started showing at 12 weeks.

#22: Haemorrhoid is a pain in the ass! Literally. (And I have never had this in my entire life before!)

#23:  Everything I ate gave me a heartburn. Antacids and Zantac became my other best friends, although there were times when they have to be purged out and no longer work too well. My heartburn became a  reflux as I mastered the art of projectile vomiting.

#24: Ambushed by unsolicited advice by the We-are-the-New-Parents-Syndrome. These people who unfortunately are associated to us by proximity suddenly felt that since they have been parents for barely 2 weeks and they beat us to having their baby first, they now have all the wisdom and authority on  parenting skills in a 5-minutes elevator conversation.

#25: "Noise" by physical proximity (close friends & family NOT included here!). People started dispensing free advise on the type of food I should or should not consume or comment on the type of activity I should or should not do.I'm only pregnant, not handicapped, people!

#26:  It was fun in the beginning when people started guessing the gender of our child (we didn't want to find out and we didn't, as we wanted it to be a surprise), but got terribly annoying when they decided that they were just going to IMPOSE their guesswork on you because their gut-feel said so!

#27: People IMPOSING their concern so rudely of my 'condition' by saying (quote-unquote) "You  cannot be only 4 months preggars! So big, YOU KNOW... You better watch what you eat, you knowwww!"  Excuse me, but haven't you seen the size of my husband who happened to be walking just right next to you?!
#28:  Finally, the infamous pregnancy glow. Seriously, WHAT glow? The only glow I had was my shiny T-Zone and my acne-spotted face which could have easily reflected light from a million miles away.

Now, tell me if being pregnant is fun. To those who enjoyed every bit of their pregnancy and embraced all the inconveniences with open arms and open hearts, I must say that I really salute you! I know I had issues...

@ The Bum

A handful of people appeared skeptical and raised an eyebrow (or two) when I said I'll be giving birth in Bangkok instead of glorious Singapore. They had genuinely asked about the standards of medical services here in Thailand. Mostly, they were just being skeptical given Thailand is considered a third world country and wondered if it is a dodgy place to entrust birthing and health matters. I attest it certainly is not.

On the contrary to what most people believe of a third-world country, the medical facilities and services of private hospitals like Bumrungrad (aka 'The Bum' in my dictionary) or Samitivej just to mention a few, are actually of international standards. No doubt the prices are relatively higher than the government or public hospitals, but it is well worth the higher price for a peace of mind; especially when Thai is not your native language. One thing for sure, the costs of private hospitals in Bangkok are pretty competitive, and I do believe are relatively cheaper than what you might eventually pay for the private hospitals in Singapore.

For instance, specific to birthing, Bumrungrad has 3 different packages (Prices are estimated based on recent memory as I have forgotten the exact costs):

1. Natural Delivery without pain relievers (based on 3 days 2 nights stay): ~46K THB (~1.9 K SGD)
2. Natural Delivery with epidural (based on 3 days 2 nights stay): ~ 56K THB (2.3K SGD)
3. Ceasarian (based on 4 days, 3 nights stay): ~ 66K THB (~ 2.7K SGD)

For the above packages, you get a standard room. Of course, additional charges apply for services, medication and extension of stay. Nonetheless, you pretty much have the ward to yourself and the room is equipped like a hotel room. Each standard ward comes with a one person patient-bed, with a couch for a family member who is allowed to stay for the night. Silver Bullet said the couch is quite comfy, too! On top of that, there is a flat-screen TV, a free WIFI connection, a fridge, a microwave oven, a wardrobe, a safe, a computer keyboard and monitor and an array of room services!You gotta admit that for a 'standard', it is actually pretty decent!

The "Standard" Room @ The Bum

One thing that I thought is pretty cool is the birthing room itself for those opting a natural delivery. As far as I know, there is only one such room in Bumrungrad. I, of course, had the privilege of staying in this room for almost the whole day when I was in labour. The room was equipped with a different type of bed and unlike those in the normal wards, they put in a rocking chair, a radio, yoga mats and those big bouncy exercise balls which I believe are used to cope with labour pains. The bathroom itself has a bathtub that is meant to be used for water delivery should such means of delivery is desired.

Took some pictures of the birthing room while I was in between contractions...but had forgotten to take one of the bathroom! Those bouncy balls were damn useful distractions for when the contraction starts. Here is one with the very un-glam me on the bouncy balls fighting off hours of contractions.

Not too dodgy at all, I'd say!

The Recovery

[Warning: A lengthy blog post]

It has now been more than 20 days post my C-Sect and I still don’t feel a hundred percent.

My recovery since the delivery via Cesarean has been pretty slow. While my doctor assured that most women are up and about within a day or two from the C-Sect surgery, I struggled pretty darn hard. Some of my colleagues even testified they did not feel a thing after the surgery and could pretty much walk around as if nothing had happened within a day. It was disheartening to hear such stories when I can’t even get out of bed on the first day after. In fact, I had trouble getting back on my feet even after the 3rd day of the surgery. I still remember the sharp, intense pain the moment I put my foot down on the ground. The pain was paralyzing. It felt as if a serrated knife was continuously jabbing my abdomen. The pain was relentless. It was so intense that I could not even walk to the bathroom on my own which was less than 5 meters away from my bed. I was so pathetic that I had to call for help each time I need to go to the bathroom. Having a shower was a feat, and I could not do it without any assistance. I could hardly stand as every step was a cry for help. That was how bad it was. It was obvious that my usually high threshold of pain did not prepare me for this one.

I felt that whatever dignity I had before the C-Sect, it all was stripped off of me as nurses manhandled me, stripping me off my clothes as I lie paralysed in bed out of numbness from the anesthetic for a few days and then stripped me naked in the shower in their bid to assist me to clean-up after myself. The entire thing was such an ordeal physically and to a certain extent, mentally too.

I was pretty much bed-bound for a few days, but I tried very hard to walk around in the hope that I’ll recover faster. It felt like a bad experience…a bad dream, but I was determined to be able to get back on my feet as soon as possible. My! How I tried. And I tried, and I tried. I had only managed to slowly hobbled, and that was with some human support or the wheelchair on my 4th day. Even so, I cannot stand on my feet for too long. Every movement was not without effort. I never thought this would be so hard on me. It was as if my body was just rebelling. I did not feel like everything was normal.

It was only on the 5th day that the pain subsided a little. I was able to hobble a little faster and by the end of the day, I could walk myself to the bathroom…but only very, very slowly. Things got better later in the evening and I became fit to be discharged on the 6th day. It was not without any pain.

It was not easy coming home with a helpless newborn and at the same time, trying to adhere to doctor’s advice of getting a good rest, eat proper meals, not to strain or not carrying heavy things myself. Not having enough sleep from then on did not help very much either. I was barely operating at 50% which continued on for another week…on top of being deprived further of sleep.

I am only glad that I have also heard stories from other women whose recovery were just as slow. Our neighbour is a good example when she had her baby 3 months ago. I am glad I was not alone experiencing such difficulty. I was bummed for not being able to go for natural delivery, but I did not rule out having to go for C-Sect given the circumstances. Perhaps, I just was not prepared for the outcome. Thailand is a country with 80% Cesarean rate as most Thai women would prefer to be cut up than having to go through the pain of natural delivery. It makes me wonder how their brains really work, given the aftermath of the surgery can be a difficult one. It goes to show that no two women are the same, and that our bodies react in different way as they go under stress. It just seemed that mine was not cooperating too well.

I am, however, glad that at this very moment, I am feeling much much better than I did 2 weeks ago. I am still not a hundred percent, but there has been some stark improvement. Given my personal experience on this, again, it makes me realise the challenges of a single mom if they were to go through what I went through. I am thankful for all the help and support I have gotten so far from my husband, our nanny as well as my family. Recovery should be getting a lot easier from here.

The Last Stretch

That last stretch of the pregnancy was a rather trying time for me. Not only was Spud almost 3  one and half weeks overdue from the estimated delivery date (EDD), there were also no signs whatsoever indicating that the baby would be out any time soon. [3 1/2 weeks overdue if calculated from 38 weeks i.e. @ 38 weeks, the baby is considered fully baked and can be delivered]. After my 38th week, there were still no contractions, no baby’s engagement (she was not low enough), no cervical mucus and virtually zero dilation of the cervix. I basically had NOTHING. Spud seemed rather chilled out being in my womb for an extended amount of time. That three and half weeks of extended time felt like eternity and it took a toll on me and my mood. I was on the verge of depression; even seeking help with alternative therapy to induce with foot reflexology, acupuncture and hypnotherapy.

This is me 3 days prior to delivery (41 weeks + 1 day), looking all poofy and swollen...with still no signs of Spud coming out anytime soon.

When labour finally came, I had a hard time going into labour-proper in my quest for a natural birth. My contractions had started on a Thursday night and continued on into the whole of Friday. By early Saturday morning at 3 am, the contractions became 5 minutes apart and while my water has yet to break, we decided to just head out to the hospital as it felt like delivery was imminent. They basically put me in a delivery room and monitored my contractions for the whole of that Saturday. Even with intense contraction at 98%, I still have only dilated by 1 cm. It remained at 1 cm even after I was induced with oxytocin in the evening. All in all, my contractions lasted for almost 3 days and never actually resulted in what they called "active” labour. God knows how much longer it will take for my cervix to dilate to 10 cm for me to go for natural labour, given that I haven’t had any sleep since Thursday! And even if we had persevered and waited for me to go into active labour, we wondered if I actually would have any strength left to push, since I haven’t slept for more than 48 hours. I was lucky to have a supportive and obliging doctor, who pretty much stood by us most of the entire time. While he did give his professional advice, he never once imposed his opinion on us.

In the end, we decided to go with the dreaded Cesarean after having been advised that my amniotic fluid is getting lower that it should. In a matter of minutes, I was wheeled into the surgery room, and was promptly attended by several nurses and an Anesthecian. I felt manhandled and violated like a shrimp on a stick about to be barbecued as they administered epidural. Despite being on a high and light-headed the entire time, I didn’t like the experience one bit as I felt (and still do!) traumatised by it. I think I may have told the Anesthecian to EF Off  at one point in time when she fussed about me and my spine as I felt the pain. I tried my best to stay still, but it was almost impossible since I could FEEL the pain in my spine despite being numbed and all; and how dare she complained to the doctor telling him I was not co-operating!  (I figured she told on me as soon after, my doctor showed up and told me gently that I need to co-operate! WTF! Damn Biotch!)

The next thing I knew, Silver Bullet was by my side and I heard wailing in the background. Out of nowhere, I was presented with a lump of red flesh wrapped in a blue cloth. I remembered feeling rushed and fussed as strangers around us started clicking their cameras at us and telling me stuff I could not absorb at that point in time, given my not-so-sober state. Everything was a little blur, but I recall going in and out of consciousness while they whisked Silver Bullet away as my doctor was sewing me up. They then put me in a recovery room for 2 hours right after that. I remembered feeling a little miffed at the entire thing as I felt isolated without my husband (who was not allowed in the Recovery Room with me) and my newborn child. At some point though, whilst still in the Recovery Room, they brought Spud to me for my very first breastfeeding. The sight left me more amused and bewildered than anything else.

It felt like eternity before I saw Silver Bullet again in a ward where I was to recover for several more days. After texting a few close friends telling them about the safe delivery, I was then lulled into sleep by a very powerful painkiller that was administered intravenously. That sent me a-flying immediately. I was in happy land for the night! (And not so happy in the next few days to come!)

The crucial must-have picture that everyone has right after delivery!

The road to "freedom"

Looking back, I did have a relatively easy pregnancy. There were small inconveniences; but unlike most stories I have heard, I did not have terrible morning sickness or having to do any bed rest or have to frequently miss work. In fact, I did not feel pregnant until I was in my 36th week  For most part of the time, I even forget that I was actually pregnant, and was only duly reminded of my condition when my tummy got bigger in the last trimester. I was also very active throughout my entire pregnancy, working right till the very end of it.

I was, however, a little on the ''sensitive" side - a bit of a softie, easily irritable and a little fussy with things and want things MY way. But! my bouts of irritability were in fact, pretty minimal. All things considered, I did not have any violent mood swings or was even remotely temperamental. In fact, I was relatively happy and easy-going for most, if not all of the time.

Up until the last stretch, that is.

I don’t know how other women can rave so much about how much they have enjoyed being pregnant. I can only say I tolerated it. As said, despite having it relatively easy, there were many, many small inconveniences which I had to deal with. They royally annoyed the crap out of me. So annoying that I now have an entire list of rant on what they did not tell me about pregnancy!

Contrary to what most women feel, I do not miss being pregnant. Far from it. At this point, boy! Oh boy! Am I glad to be un-pregnant. I'm probably missing all the good bits about pregnancy, but really! what was so enjoyable about being pregnant again?

Am I just A.B.normal?

Why I kept my mouth shut

[Warning: A lengthy blog post]

Many a time, I have been asked why there had not been any mention of my pregnancy in my blog while I was carrying Spud. This very question came from close friends who happened to know about my pregnancy then. They were pretty puzzled why I kept such “thrilling” news hush-hush. I guess it is now time to “come clean”, following the announcement of Spud’s arrival 18 days ago.

I don’t know where to start, really. I guess I made a conscious decision not to blog about it simply because I was not ready to share with the whole wide world. I felt people in general tend to get over-zealous over the word pregnancy. More often than not, I think there was really no reason to make it such a big deal at all; simply because I didn’t think I was any more special since millions of women get pregnant and have babies. I am only one of the statistics. Those are, however, only one part to the story.

The other reason was mainly because of too many uncertainties. When we decided to try for a Spud, it was also a conscious decision on our part to “screw the contraception, just give it a go and see what happens”. Our train of thoughts about having a baby was along the lines of: let’s just try and if for some reason we are not able to, we still can seek help if we really need/want to. If somehow it did not work out, at least we know we tried. Given my skepticism with having kids, we know we can live with the fact if we can’t have kids and so, we can move on with our lives and spend our money on us in our old age. At least, there will be no regrets of having to look back one day and do a should have, would have, could have but didn’t. If we are destined not to have kids, we know in our hearts that at least we have tried. We do not have to go back to ‘what ifs” once we hit 50, and then realising that we should have tried having kids, but didn’t. Those were our very sentiments.

Uncertainties were real. Sometime mid last year, I actually had a miscarriage. Truth be told, I did not even know I was pregnant then. To say we were even ready for it was an understatement. When the doctor finally confirmed it, I was kind of shell-shocked to know that I was in my 8th week of pregnancy. I remembered Silver Bullet’s face flushing bright red when we walked out of the doctor’s office, both of us in apprehensive silent with the sudden news. It could not have happened so fast, we thought. We were not ready and the timing was not right! We, however, had barely digested the news when about 10 hours later, I started bleeding heavily accompanied by intense cramping which lasted till the next day. Our visit to the doctor’s on the following day confirmed of a “spontaneous abortion”. We speculated that whatever it was, the fetus may have detected our uneasiness and decided to flush itself out! Honestly, I was not emotionally affected by the miscarriage at all. It was literally a case of here today, gone tomorrow…barely enough time for us to absorb the full-extend of it all. It did, however, took a few months for my body to resume to some form of normalcy post the miscarriage. And at about 5-6 months later, Spud was conceived.

My pregnancy, for the most part was a well-kept secret. Those who knew only knew because they saw me in person. I did not really want to announce it to the whole world, not even after the 13th week as it was something I wanted to keep private, just in case something untoward was to happen. I was a worry-wart, speculating a lot of “what ifs” in my head. I worry if our baby will, God forbid! be deformed, or handicapped or mentally challenged or diagnosed with a down syndrome or some strange diseases or having to deal with a stillborn. Things which are not normal and beyond our control, and having to make the right or wrong decision for an unborn child was something which I was not looking forward to. I worry if I will ever be a qualified candidate for a good mother. I worry if it is selfish of us to put another life in this world when the world is just a screwed-up place to live along with millions of other screwed up society with screwed-up values and screwed-up environmentally damaged environment. For most part, I was unsure how I would cope with my pregnancy and the reality of having my own flesh and blood on the way. It was all a pretty bizarre concept for a “I-never-want-kids-ever” me. I cringed at the thought of people annoyingly fussing over me and my pregnancy.

I am glad that despite all my crazy and inane thoughts, we have a physically-perfect, healthy baby. If anything, she might just be a little loopy, given her direct lineage from her parents. My only hope for Spud is to grow up healthy and happy.  Everything else , especially material stuff, is secondary.