Bun in oven, Letters to

Like father, like child

Dear Tiny Human,

You’ve grown since we saw you last! Okay, it was merely a week ago but we all know that a lot can happen in a week.

I was feeling a little down this afternoon prior to the scan because a) an asshole driving a taxi tried to mow me down at a zebra crossing as I was walking to the clinic, and b) I had been spotting a little today. This pregnancy has had me on tenterhooks because I know that so many things can go wrong. Plus, the lack of sleep was weighing down on me. Even Dr Y was asking me if I was okay because I seemed a little down.

Oh! When I was at the clinic, one of the nurses who is pretty fond of me, grabbed my hands and told me that she was very happy for me. You should see my patient file, it’s huge and bulging. It sounds kind of sad that most of the nurses know and like me because they have gone through 4 IUIs and an IVF with me but it’s actually very nice. It makes me glad that I didn’t have to go to KKH, and very glad that I am back at a familiar and comfortable environment.

The good news is, we saw your teeny tiny heart beating away! It was really just a small, almost unnoticeable flicker on the screen. I had to ask if the flickering wasn’t due to bad pixels and Dr Y said NOOOO and gave me a look. I like the dude. I think he finds me v amusing. I suppose it means he likes me too.

And baby, Congratulations, you are now measuring about 5.8mm long, which makes you about 6w3d in terms of growth. Even though I am exactly 6w along.

CONCLUSION: You are clearly your father’s child, so fat big-boned. He’s not called Mr Thick for nothing.

I love you.

♥, Mama

(No scans today, they look blur and strange. Dr Y is clearly not good at multitasking – scanning and pressing “print” at the same time. Tsk.)

Bun in oven, Letters to

Expect the expected

Dear Tiny Human,

Boy oh boy have you gone and turned my life upside down!

Not a day goes by without your Dad asking me how I am and me replying nauseous and tired. The funny thing is, I haven’t been sleeping well for the past three nights. I’d lie in bed all exhausted and then my brains are still going whrrrrrrr. I think my poor body is in overdrive because of all the changes that have been happening.

I mean, I am growing a tiny human (AKA you) in me. How beautifully bizarre is that?

Plus, I haven’t hit the gym since we first stepped into Dr Y’s clinic for the blood test and I feel like a lethargic, fat slug. My appetite’s shot and we subsist on what my gut tells me to eat. Some nights, it’s fish and then there was that one evening when I decided we would have pasta and so I made pasta. It’s pretty fun, actually, like a lottery of sorts.

Both your Dad and I have decided that we are not going to tell anyone about you until we’ve cleared the first trimester. I think being infertility veterans has made us very, very cautious and we just want to make sure that everything is stable before we stir the village with the news.

You see, you are a very precious child. We have been trying ways and means for the past two years to conceive and all of a sudden, you came along and made us both go speechless. And, I assure you, I am HARDLY speechless (just ask your Dad, our verbal ratio is like 500:7 or something as absurd as that). I mean, I was all prepared to go through another round of IVF in October!

But me being me, I can’t survive without telling someone. I bloody need some emotional support! (No, your Dad doesn’t count because he is a man and yes, the word bloody is forbidden to you). And who better to share the news with than my friend the Queen of the Prairie (that’s Aunty Denise to you). She’s been through my entire infertility journey with me, from the very first IUI to the ill-fated IVF. I text her all my worries and she tells me to stop Googling. She calls you “Little Roe” (because we call each other fishy, never mind) and tells me that she will love you very, very much.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to see you again and hopefully we can see your little heart pumping away. Fingers crossed. Exactly 6w tomorrow.

I love Fridays more and more. 🙂

Love you already,

Bun in oven

There’s a baby in there

This pregnancy is already kicking my ass.

All I feel is nausea, exhausted, nausea, exhausted, nausea…you get the drift.

And we are at, err, 5 weeks? Am not even halfway through the first trimester?


But well, if this means that the nugget is safe and healthy in there, it’s all worth it, innit?

No more Dead Baby Thoughts. Think I had better go lie down right now.

Bun in oven, Letters to


Dear Tiny Human,

It’s too late, I’m afraid I am irrevocably in love with you.


(See that white bit in the middle of the black blob? That’s our little nugget all nestled in Camp Womb at 5w1D old. We saw a teeny tiny flicker at the scan – a little hint of the nugget’s growing heart pumping away. Next scan on Friday, that’s when we can see the heartbeat clearly. In the meantime, we are not out of the woods yet. Fingers crossed.)

Two of Us

Married life #18

One Saturday, over brunch…

Me: When we have a kid, I will get sole naming rights.

Him: Why?!

Me: Because it’s not fair that as the incubator of the child for nine months, the kid pops out and takes your surname.

Him: Too bad.

Me: Okay. Let’s talk about rights then. As the dad, you get one daddy vote. As the mom, I get one mommy vote. And because the kid is in my tummy, I automatically get the baby’s vote. Also, the patriarchal system that lets all my children take your surname grants me one vote for sheer unfairness. So that’s three votes against one.

Him: …… (sticks his middle finger out)

Me: Shall I continue?

Him: NO.

Me: The baby will be coming out of the birth canal in my vagina so my vagina should get a rightful vote. And since I will be the one gaining all that weight and looking like a whale, I get an additional hardship vote. That’s five votes against one. I win! You may offer suggestions but I will get the ultimate naming rights.

Him: … (continues sticking his middle finger out)

Me: You can never outtalk me, you know.

Him: Shuddup.

Me: I love you too.

Everything Else

Capture the Everyday: Summer food

Capture the Everyday from Adventuroo


Capture the Everyday is about getting you to capture those everyday moments in your life! Each Thursday, Mel from Adventuroo will issue a simple challenge to capture something that’s a part of your daily life. It’s a quick, easy way to start capturing those little parts of life we sometimes take for granted.

This week’s assignment: Summer food

This little red dot that I am living on sits snugly near the equator so everyday is a Summer day for me. And what better to quench the summer heat than to indulge in a ice-cold drink?

Lemonade it is!


Nothing feels quite as awesome as a refreshing cold drink sliding down your throat on a scorching day. Which, in Singapore, is practically everyday. Gah.

I had quite a bit of pain making this jug of lemonade for a picnic with the friends because I don’t have a juicer and was manually squeezing the juice out of those pesky lemons. I think there were seven of them altogether and my hands went sort of numb.

Needless to say, I stopped making lemonade for a while.

Okay, so it’s not quite a summer food but I daresay it counts. Heh.

Bun in oven

We what?

Oddly enough, it turns out that yes, we can most indeed simply shag and make a baby. I feel strangely embarrassed because all along I have been harping on how cruel this infertility shit is and tahdah! Pregnant!

Err, what?

Of course, having gone through seven IUIs and one IVF (SEVEN?! BLIMEY!), it is perfectly understandable that we were both a little cautious when faced with two lines on the stick.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me tell the tale properly, right from the very beginning.

Like most women, I found out that a bun had implanted itself in my oven when my period didn’t arrive. All week long, I had been crampy and weepy, signs that the Lady in Red was poised to appear, probably at the most inopportune moment (ie. when you are wearing light-coloured pants). And then she was late. But I didn’t think much of it because I had started taking traditional Chinese medicine and I knew that it had the ability to prolong my cycle. Plus, I kept feeling as if the period was due ANYTIME and let’s just say we weren’t exactly trying.

The one thing that gave it away – or should I say, two – was that my BOOBS were mighty uncomfortable. And I only ever had that feeling when I was on progesterone suppositories and even then, the discomfort faded away right before the period arrived. The feeling persisted and I was all, HMM.

So one week after Miss P was due, I peed onto a stick and almost immediately, THE SECOND LINE APPEARED.

I was stunned. Like, WTF!! stunned.

I stared at the pee stick for a bit before grabbing the packaging off from the bathroom counter and read the instructions at least five times. Yes, two lines. Yes, both control and test lines are there. Yes, two lines equals pregnant. Yes…pregnant?


I rushed out of the bathroom and waved the stick at husband’s face, yelling, Know what this means? He was all, erm? Finally, he got it and went into the WTF!! STUNNED zone that I was in.

Being infertility veterans, we didn’t jump for joy or shed tears of ecstasy. All we could ask ourselves were Is this real? Are you sure? Should I pee again? (I didn’t, I ran out of pee and I don’t deliver on demand.) We need a blood test to be sure. Let’s see what the blood test tells us.

And so, we went back to our dear Dr Y (erm, we un-broke up with him) and had a blood test done. A second pee test done at his clinic showed that we were really, really pregnant.

Of course, Life likes to throw us a curveball in the form of unusually high level of HCG detected in my blood. At 14,000, I was more than double the normal amounts. And it could be due to so many things: a molar pregnancy, multiples (!!!), Down Syndrome, I was further along than we had thought or simply that my body is a hormone churning machine. It could be everything or nothing.

So no, we haven’t celebrated being pregnant yet. There’s still so much uncertainty and I just don’t know when the dust will clear. I don’t know when I can look down at my tummy and see a baby instead of a maybe. I can’t even think to myself, wow I am now five weeks along because I don’t know if this will turn out to be a viable pregnancy. I stroke my tummy and then I snatch my hand away. It’s almost as if not acknowledging the pregnancy would spare me from further pain should this pregnancy not work out. Call it my defensive mechanism kicking in, if you would.

And that’s the thing with infertility veterans. You can never rest easy, you can never truly be at ease until you have passed all the markers. And even then, I know that I will not relax until the baby has weaseled out of that narrow canal in my vajayjay and is in my arms, safe and healthy.