The Liliputian Force of Nature

25th April marked another major milestone in my life. An unexpected, new goalpost has been pegged and erected. I resigned from my job.

It was a decision I was forced to make in light of my uncompromising baby situation. I didn’t foresee this particular problem to arise. I had hoped to finish my work at my (old) company before flying off to Delft for my husband’s studies.

Sadia is quite a petite baby girl. I always get these remarks whenever we’re in public places. “How many days/weeks old?” “She’s so tiny!”.

Perhaps she follows my husband’s side of the family. Funny thing is she does have long limbs. Her legs, arms and fingers are relatively longish. But she is just small in size. Another theory which might hold water is that I was a small baby myself, coming in at about 2.6 kg (compared to Sadia’s birthweight of 2.96 kg). I was the smaller of the twins and my mom made sure to keep me warm for the first few months of my life.

I am again digressing. Anyways, baby tends to lose weight a week following birth due to the loss of moisture from their bodies. The weight loss can be aggravated by the contraction of illness or medical conditions such as jaundice. That was what happened to Sadia. She had jaundice during the first week. My husband was outstationed at this time and I had to go to the hospital with my mom to check Sadia’s bilirubin level. The result turned out to be borderline.

After my husband came back from his trip, we sought a specialist’s opinion on her case. The pediatrician, a mild-mannered man (whose interesting quirk is to start OR end his sentences with “Basically”), diagnosed her with breastfeeding jaundice and asked me to stop taking “jamu”, a traditionally-prepared mix of herbs for post-natal recovery. He advised me to continue breastfeeding to help Sadia’s boy in getting rid of the excess bilirubin.

Actually I had stopped taking jamu following the first jaundice result but the pediatrician wanted me to stop completely taking any traditional medication (pill or otherwise) orally. Other traditional products for external usage are, however, allowed.

The incident, in retrospect, contributed to my breastfeeding frenzy. I nursed her for long sessions despite the pediatrician’s pointer to do otherwise. Anything longer than 30 minutes constitutes as “comfort feeding”. The baby just wants the soothing feel of her mother’s ni**le in her mouth as a form of security.

But I beg to differ. Sometimes the baby is hungry and the evident suckling motion is testament to that. Yes, it does look like I’m justifying my action but whenever I try to latch her off, she’ll seek out the fleshy ni**le (sometimes with eyes closed) and latch on successfully. I don’t have the heart to “disengage” and consequently relent to her eating habit. After all, she is tiny and needs all the nutrition that she can get!

The consequence: Two weeks prior to going back to work, I tried giving her the bottle. She refused and cried. Even when other people gave her, she rejected wholeheartedly. There was one fluke occasion when she did finish a whole 90ml of formula milk. Following that, I attempted giving her my expressed milk in the bottle. Someone else was in charge of giving since I didn’t want to be there lest she could “smell” me. I hid in another room in my parent’s house. She vehemently repelled the bottle’s content and wailed uncontrollably. More often than not, Sadia’s cry is filled with heart-wrenching sobs and reaches its all-time “low” when she loses her voice, swallowed by and overwhelmed with feeling of sadness. Any sentient beings with a heart would quiver under her crying spell.

I had to acquiesce to her request of eating from the milk’s original source. Drinking off “nature’s” tap. Subsequent trials were put in place by other volunteered feeders but all failed. Once, I even left her with my mom and her maid while I went out to get a haircut with my twin sister. She was already asleep when I left, after being fed for a long session. That short separation proved to be disastrous. For the 45 minutes that she was awake, she didn’t want the formula milk and cried for a long duration until she went back to sleep.

I had to rush back home and asked the hairstylist to wind things up quickly. The incident confirmed my grave suspicion – she will not take the bottle anytime soon or soon enough for me to go work.

I called my boss for an extension of my maternity leave. She, being a two-time mother, declined my request. She asked me to do whatever it takes to handle the situation and to “not let my baby control me.” What? I was taken aback. And I had thought, she would have a more sensitive spine, being a (1.) a woman, (2.) a mother!!!. In other words, I had to regain control of my baby’s rejection of the bottle. Perhaps if she had rephrased her sentences, I wouldn’t have resigned, but s**t happens! Maybe, it was me telling her the day before, that my husband was approved and selected for his overseas studies and I would like to enquire the company’s policy on unpaid leaves. When I called her back to explain my predicament with the baby, she wanted me to go to work immediately, to finish a few tasks. This was conveyed to me after she found out that there is no such policy for long unpaid leaves.

I realized that I had to bite the bullet and quit my job. Sadia’s health is more important than completing my “task” at the office. No one should ask me to choose between my baby and my job. She wins hands down.

Now I am busy attending to Sadia’s needs, and watching her grow on a daily basis is a blessing that I wouldn’t miss for the world. She now can hold her head up, when I put her on her stomach. And her smiles, giggles and squeals are unless pleasures that can melt the heart of any parent. She’s a Liliputian force to reckon with. In a way, I am glad that she gets a hold, or shall I dare say “control” of me…

D-day!!!

D-day!!! (Written at my parents’ house on 6th March 2006)

The whirring of the standee fan, the chirping of sparrows outside on the rooftop almost lulled me to sleep. But sleep seemed to elude me. I miss my husband. He just left for Jakarta for a corporate team building exercise. It has been 10 days since I’ve given birth and it is still a learning curve from thereon. A lot to learn and re-learn. Unlike the caregiver, my baby is sleeping soundly. I am using this opportune breather to expatiate on my child-birthing experience. Allow me to retrace my steps to that fateful day…

There I was being admitted to the hospital at 8:30 pm. It was Wednesday 22nd February. Despite my reservations for the anti-climactic nature of my labour, my concerns, my inner-struggle, I was, by definition, to be induced. This was confirmed by the nurses who were in attendance that night. The insertion of prostaglandin pessaries into my private area will assist in expediting the opening of my cervical recesses. It was 10 o’clock when the night shift nurse, Mrs Salina, proceeded with the insertion. This was less painful compared to the internal exam I had to endure with my gynae. That called for a deeper burrowing up the birth canal by his gloved hand. In other words, it was quite excruciating!

This procedure followed by hooking me up to a catheter containing oxytocin which is another ‘induction aid’. My husband and I tried to sleep after the procedure but we were nervous and excited at the same time to doze off. I was also being monitored for contractions and checked on at odd hours so sleep appeared to be last in priority.

Earlier on, before I was admitted to the labour room, I had frantically indulged in last minute house-cleaning i.e., washing clothes – about 3-4 loads! It was my way of NOT thinking about labour. My husband, on the other hand, was already a ball of nerves - he emitted nausea-like sounds. It was not until toward the end of my domestic frenzy that it dawned on me I was going to deliver a baby! A real live baby will come out of me!

Thinking of all the horror delivery stories I’d heard, I became nervous and scared of the procedure. Luckily, by this time my husband’s nerves had settled down, so he in turn pacified me. A hug from your hubby can do wonders. At least, it kept my mind off labor for about 10 minutes. Well, maybe 5 minutes tops.

We had what we tagged as “last supper” at O’Brien’s – an Irish chain gourmet sandwich deli – which we decided to try for the first time. It was heavenly – at a price that is. But, I didn’t mind – it was my last carrot juice for many days to come.

Back to the hospital bed - by morning (well make that 5 am during which the nurse sprang the lights up on us), I was still experiencing only mild contractions. The attendant nurse thereafter came in with my breakfast and subsequently administered an enema into my anus (you know for what). By 9 am, my gynae performed another internal exam and lo and behold, my cervix was still 1cm in opening, The doctor then gave a grave prognosis – if by 24 hours’ time I hadn’t dilated sufficiently, he might opt to do a C-section. It was the last thing I wanted to hear.

After he left, we decided to take drastic action – in the form of walking around the labor room to induce contractions. It worked! We couldn’t believe it at first. We had even been requested to move into the ward room around 2pm since I wasn’t yet fully dilated. That was when the ward manager monitored my contractions which were then quite near to one another. I was immediately “returned” to the labour room. The gynae came shortly thereafter and much to my dislike, did another internal exam. Satisfied that my cervix had dilated about 2 1/2 to 3cm, he broke my waterbag by way of an amniohook. Water gushed out for what seemed like eternity. Like a tub being drained out after the stoppage is pulled up, the water escaping the “hole” was large in volume and rapid in speed. It even dripped to the floor. I had to change my hospital dress – that was after I had been hosed down from the excess amniotic fluid that clung to my body. I felt exhausted – the process was far from over. In fact, it had just started.

Due to the anticipated long labor, I decided to opt for epidurals. It was a consensual decision. My husband didn’t want me to suffer pain unnecessarily and I was too tired to argue otherwise. It was almost 4pm when the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural tube down my spine. I wasn’t able to see it myself but my husband said a lot of blood oozed out during the hooking-up procedure (Well, that was nothing compared to labor time!).

Following that, I went to sleep until about dinner time (7pm). By then, the cervix opened about 4cm. I later drifted back to sleep right until the moment I felt excruciating pain. My epidural drip had run out and I was in dire need of quick top-up. The nurse refilled more anesthesia down my spine but to no avail. The throbbing pain still lingered. It was a series of contractions. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t lie still or breath properly.

I wanted more anesthetic – I didn’t care! The nurse conferred with anesthesiologist on call and he gave the green light for another top-up. It was nearly 11pm when the second dose finally kicked in and I was able to lie flat on my mattress without cringing.

By then, my cervix had almost fully dilated. My gynae came from his home around 11:30pm and examined my cervix opening. 15 minutes later he had already put on his galoshes. The two nurses on duty thereon installed these leg harnesses at the opposite sides of my bed. Since I couldn’t feel any sensation in my legs, I propped my lead-like legs up with the assistance of the nurses.

Come the contractions, I was urged to push with a caveat – not from the chest cavity but from my bowel area – as if I were doing No.1. Three to four pushes afterwards, as I opened my eyes from the feat of pushing, I heard the gynae said “Here’s your baby” whilst simultaneously putting my baby on my lap. I was shocked! It was like a magic trick! Once my eyes were opened, the baby was plonked on me. It was the most wonderful experience, next to my wedding that is…I was beside words. She was beautiful. Her skin was porcelain white (almost doll-like) and her eyes were wide opened. They were looking straight at me and my husband.

The nurses cleared her lungs and performed other tests before handing her back to us… We then sang Happy Birthday to her while waiting for my gynae to finish stitching me up. Yes, it was not exactly the most Islamic thing to do.. but technically it was her “birthday”.

After the gynae left, and the nurses cleared the labor room, my husband intoned the call to prayer (“azan” in Arabic) through the baby’s right ear, and the “qamat” (response to call of prayer) into the baby’s left ear. It is customary and recommended that a Muslim father does this as soon as he can after the baby is out the womb.

Our baby was later carried to the nursery for washing and bathing. We were both elated and relieved that the ordeal had finally come to a “hurling” end. It was however not over, until I vomited on my husband’s jeans, an after-effect of the epidural running out. Luckily for him, I didn’t eat much solids, so it was more liquid based. Aside from the mind numbing itchiness (another side-effect) I had to agonized following childbirth, everything went pretty well as I had hoped for. We hope and thankful for…

A baby girl whom we named Sadia Firjani, which literally means, “flower” and “cure for sadness” in Arabic/Persian . Our own flower pot which we will nurture, protect and comfort in turn.

More Pix of Sadia @ 2 months!!!

Gallery - And baby makes three!

Countdown to D-day

Countdown to D-day – 22nd February 2006 (written in Kinokuniya’s Coffee Express Café while waiting for hubby to get clearance for leave)

This is it! D-day (or so I had thought – please proceed to next blog for further clarification). My labour day. Well, almost anyway. I went to the gynae this morning and he said my cervix has opened slightly. Which is good news compared to the news he conveyed to us the week before when he said he wasn’t sure I might even give birth in two weeks’ time!

Since the cervix is opening ever so slightly (or in my gynae’s nomenclature ‘pointing in the right direction i.e., upright’), he advised and recommended we be at the hospital tonight so as to enable the labour process to proceed smoothly – with the aid of prostaglandin at least.

The news was a welcome relief after the agonizing wait for our baby. On the other hand, however, I wonder if this type of arrangement is considered “induced labour” since my waterbag has yet to break and my cervix hasn’t fully dilated.

I’m on my way to labour – yes. Just the thought of having it “planned” for labour is at best unnerving and at worst disconcerting.

I believe in divine providence and intervention. In other words, “natural” process to take place.

My gynae has somehow mollified me by saying that the leaking via “bloody show” and the on-and-off contraction will persist at snail pace unless I take active measure i.e., admission into hospital.

So if I don’t mind suffering the contraction and waiting again for nature to take its course, I won’t need to be in the hospital. On the flipside, labour might happen in about 1-2 more days regardless. Or (gulp!) even tonight.

In a way, who to know but God AlMighty? If He says it’s tomorrow, then I shall heed and believe in His wisdom.

After all, isn’t it all about FAITH after we’ve done our best endeavour in circumventing or advancing the issue?

Puteri Gunung Ledang

Hello there fellow blogians and other blog enthusiasts! I’m back from my long break away from blogosphere after giving birth to my firstborn baby.

Before I delve further into my gradual transformation into a fledgling mother, I want to fill in the gaps of some events that happened prior to D-day.

The first entry will be entitled “PGL” dated 19th February 2006.

“Matinee show of PGL we went,
It was great though we didn’t pay a cent”

Last Sunday, my husband and I had the privilege of attending the much-touted Puteri Gunung Ledang The Musical”. We were gladly bestowed with the tickets, thanks to my dad’s friend who, to say the least, has the right connection in getting us seats. The show was a nice change of scenery and pace from our usual fare of weekend movie-watching.

The theatrical presentation started a wee bit later than the scheduled 3pm. 3:10 pm. There was a brief glitch with the “scrim” show which enveloped the whole stage at the start of the Musical.

I was mesmerized by the impressive and large props the producers had heavily invested for the show. PGL The Musical was divided into two parts. The first part ran for about 1 and 1/2 hour whereas the second took about 1 hour to completion. We were given a 15-minutes rest before the second half commenced. The intermission was a much welcome break since I almost dozed off towards the end of the first part. It wasn’t so much because the plot was dragging but was attributed more to my awkward fullblown pregnancy shape which made sitting for a long duration tiring and listless.

The stageshow was almost flawless if it were not for the lack of uniformity and cohesion between the first and second parts. The first part was laden with details and impeccable and seamless timing of the show’s plot. In the second part, the director seemed to forget the motivation and inspiration from the first half. The artist’s brushstrokes failed to imbue their meticulous handywork onto the entire masterpiece. In a sense, I felt shortshrift by the plot’s hasty unraveling in the second part.

Overall, the Musical was by far a bold and ambitious project from a local production house. Some of the songs were quite memorable and catchy. The dance sequences were well choreographed and the costumes coordinated and complemented with the spirit of that particular era. It was indeed a great effort and exemplifies sheer commitment by Mrs Effendi Nawawi, Tiara Jacqueline.