I am currently in my last trimester. This post has been lying around in my draft for the past 4/5 months. I figured that I should stop procrastinating and get this article out before the baby pops out of me in a month more.
To be completely honest, we hadn't plan for this pregnancy. It came as a surprise to the both of us.
I'll never forget the day when both urine test kits turned out with two red lines. He stood at the doorway frozen, mouth opened in shock. He didn't move for 5 whole minutes while I rambled on in an (unconvincing) panicky tone that we needn't panic – what an irony.
We stared at each other, wondering wtf we were gonna do with it — we had so many big plans for the year, of which all changed from the moment I peed on the stick and two lines came out instead of one.
My denial was so strong that I told him, "This is just a cheapo house-brand test kit. Cannot be accurate one. I got it because it was the cheapest, and got sales! Buy 2 get 1 free! Confirm the result is wrong! Tomorrow we go do blood test, and it'll show that I'm actually not pregnant!"
He clutched his head in his hands – most likely due to the discovery of my pregnancy news and not from my bimbotic statement 🙈
The doctor at the A&E tried to convince me that pregnancy test kits have a 95% rate of accuracy (I quote him, "Even the cheapo house-brand ones too" and doc gives me an amused smile) and a blood test would just be a waste of money. We did the blood test anyway – because I was stubborn like a mule.
Results came out.
I was indeed pregnant. The doc congratulated me. I broke down and cried.
Thankfully we chose to receive the results at home by phone instead of waiting at the hospital. In five simple words, I was a hot mess.
When the waterworks finally cleared up, he and I sat down for a serious discussion. Are we gonna keep the baby or... our dreams?
We decided on keeping the baby. It was after all a life, made with our DNA. We couldn't say goodbye to it just like that. Our dreams will still be attainable, probably a tad harder with this additional bump, but definitely still achievable.
With a decision made, we started shifting our plans around. Our October wedding became a May/June wedding. The dates for our pre-wedding photoshoot got moved forward. An appointment with the gynaecologist was made.
The first visit to the gynaecologist was nerve-wrecking. I could tell that it was exciting and awkward for him – he prepped a long list of questions to ask the gynae. I, on the other hand, walked in with an empty mind.
At 6 weeks pregnant, we saw the baby for the first time via an ultrasound scan.
It was just a round ball. A gestational sac. A blip.
My heart skipped a bit. This was my baby. This was our baby.
There really isn't anything much to see in the ultrasound scan – it was after all still a round ball then. Yet I clutched onto the printed copy of my ultrasound scan like it was the most precious thing in the world.
The next visit to the gynae occurred two weeks later. At 8 weeks, we could now see the resemblance of a tiny human being formed.
We could somewhat make out his head, body, arms and legs. We also heard his heartbeat for the very first time.
You know how in the movies, when the mom hears her baby's heartbeat for the very first time, and a tear would then roll down the side of her cheek? That was what happened to me.
A tear miraculously formed in my tear duct, which then (disobediently) rolled down the side of my face. I was overwhelmed by a series of emotions and
We saw my gynae again at 11 weeks. It was developing, and appeared to be even more (duh) human-like.
The funniest thing of all happened – during the ultrasound scan, we saw it bouncing up and down in my belly (on its back) like it was on a trampoline.
The dad stared in amazement, and then this grin of pride appeared across his face. He nicknamed it "boing".
A few days later, the vomiting began. It happened on the very first day of my pre-wedding shoot.
I had bouts of nausea before that, but hadn't vomited anything out till then. The nausea was sickening and kept me in bed all the time. The vomiting however, disabled me completely.
I would generally vomit after every meal. The term "morning sickness" is an understatement.
I would regurgitate when I woke up, again after breakfast, again after lunch, again after teatime, and again after dinner. The process would repeat itself again the next day.
Eventually I figured out the pattern. The baby would basically reject all food that the dad disliked – I kid you not about this.
Let me give you an example: In a plate of chicken chop, there is usually the slab of meat, some fries and a side of salad. The dad hates vegetables and always avoids consuming the salad. I would eat the salad first and subsequently move onto the finish eating the rest of the items on the plate.
For that meal, I vomited all of the salad and none of anything else on that plate.
Still too hard to believe? Here are more examples:
Dad hates hokkien prawn mee, I like hokkien prawn mee, I vomited hokkien prawn mee.
Dad likes chicken rice, I dislike chicken rice, I was fine after eating chicken rice.
Dad hates chicken pie, I like chicken pie, I vomited chicken pie.
Dad likes chicken cutlet noodle, I dislike chicken noodle, I was fine after eating chicken cutlet noodle.
He was so proud (and smug) that the baby's tastebud resembled his. I rolled my eyes so hard then – still rolling it hard now.
I experienced the weirdest combination of first trimester pregnancy symptoms. I had a sensitivity to smell, heat and lastly, light. The first two wasn't so bad, they didn't last as long as the third. Furthermore I had ways to combat the former two symptoms.
The sensitivity to light was the craziest of them all. During the daytime, I feared daylight and lived like a vampire. I had the curtains in our room down for the entire day – I could not tolerate even a shred of sunlight and hid in the shadows all the time.
When I was exposed to light, it gave me a splitting headache and unwavering nausea. The discomfort was extreme.
When the night came about, I avoided all artificial light and hence we would have our dinner in the dark. The blue light from our smartphones and laptops were also intolerable, thus we kept those devices away as well and I was rendered disabled to work.
Fortunately all of those symptoms went away with the end of my first trimester. Having to suffer all of those for the two-three months ... I thought I was gonna die. I gave my husband so many death stares, and whined till his ears probably bled (his ears are fine). I am thankful that he was immensely patient, kind and caring – although his fear of vomit was pretty hilarious.
The first time that I vomited, he charged into the bathroom bravely to help hold my hair up. However that was his first and last time doing so.
Since then, he would wait until I was done vomiting and then mysteriously pop up before me as I walked out of the bathroom. "Are you okay? You vomit ah? I thought I heard you retching in the toilet. Was it very bad? Do you need water? Mouthwash?" 😅
Back to the gynae visits. At 14 weeks, we returned to discover the gender of our baby.
It took awhile and my gynae was incredibly patient. We had to coax the baby to open up his thighs so that we could uncover his sex.
After about ~10 minutes, my gynae finally caught it on ultrasound and announced that we were expecting a boy. We named him "Ethan".
His dad's rationale for the name was: Because when I think of the name, there isn't a face that popped up in my head that makes me wanna punch it. 🙄
My rationale is a lot more logical and sensible. I like the meaning of the name, which meant "safe", "strong", "firm", and "wise". Qualities, values and blessings that I wish upon for my dearest baby boy.
Now I am 34 weeks pregnant and in about less than a month, he will be like a ticking time bomb – coming out when he feels ready to do so. That would be another funny story to tell then.
