Bun in oven

Oh, bile!

Officially, we are almost seven weeks pregnant.

According to the scan we did a week ago, I was 5W6D. Which is slightly further along than I thought we were, based on my last period. But then again, baby has his father’s genes so I should not be too surprised.

The odd thing with this pregnancy is that I had the symptoms way before I peed on the stick. I suppose I was in denial. You see, after going through infertility, you become wary of hope. All those months of thinking, am I pregnant, and then realising that you are not, can have quite the impact on your mental wellbeing.

Days leading up to the date of my expected period, I was feeling slightly nauseated. But I, unfortunately, always get the full pregnancy works BEFORE my period arrives (think nausea, backache, headache, fatigue) so I refused to put too much thought into it. Defense mechanism kicking in, you see.

Until three days after my period was due. I realised that I needed dried mango to keep from retching and then it clicked in my mind.

Told husband to buy a pee test – the cheapest, please, in case it’s a negative – and he came home with TWO. One, a house brand and the other, a premium brand. I sat on the loo, peed and LO AND BEHOLD. And then I did it again the next morning and TWO LINES AGAIN.

As Singaporeans like to say, confirm chop and guarantee.

Since then, I have been plagued by nausea. It’s awful, really, having that sick, burning feeling in the middle of your chest all day long. Bad enough for me to tell husband that I am NEVER going through this again.

Hah. Pregnancy is the best contraception. WHO KNEW.

As for fatigue…well, har har. I mean, Older Child is not sleeping through the night so I am perpetually tired anyway, irregardless of Younger.

The school term starts tomorrow so it’s going to be an interesting ride.

Bun in oven, Letters to

Hey you! Yes you!

Dear Number Two,

HELLO LOVE!

You, my darling, have finally been made. After all that teenage angst and drama from your mama here, you slipped into our lives quietly and unexpectedly.

We had a quick look at you at the doctor’s about a week ago and it was beautiful. You are just a round little blob on the ultrasound but you are here, with us, reassuringly.

Just like your brother, you are a lesson for me to learn. Initially, I had been pessimistic. You see, with our history, I didn’t think it was going to be easy conceiving you. I didn’t dare to be optimistic at all, for fear of having my heart broken all over again. And this time, I knew that I didn’t want to go through fertility treatments to have a child. There was nothing for me to fall back on.

So I fretted and sighed. (Whenever I had the time to, that is. Between work and your brother, I hardly had energy to even watch TV!) Ideally, I wanted to have you in March or April, so that I could spend extra time with you before going back to work in time for the October semester. And when you didn’t arrive in time for March, nor in April, nor in May – I was sad.

And then it hit me that three women I knew had their babies due in March. Now that made me mad.

Didn’t God know what I was hoping for? Why was it that He gave it to other women but not me?

Boo.

I was pissed off. I ranted to your father – just a little bit – and decided that sod it, I wasn’t going to care anymore. If we never had a second child, then SO BE IT.

Two weeks later, my period was late, I peed on a stick and BEHOLD. Your presence was announced to us, loud and clear.

I believe that the lesson God intended for me is that of patience.

Your brother was in the bathroom with me when I did the test – is he ever NOT in the bathroom with me, I wonder – and I told him to bring the stick to your dad. After cleaning it, of course. He ran, shouting PAPA! and shoved the stick into your father’s hands.

This means…? he asked.

I smiled. And then the grin on his face grew wider.

Welcome, my little one. We love you already.

Love,
mama

Everything Else

Pee is sterile, right?

So. I usually shower with the kid during weekdays. Just so I can save some time. (If you are all judgy, go away. NAO.) I’d plonk him in his bath, he would entertain himself with his bath toys while I wash my hair. Win-win.

Recently, he’s taken to lounging in his bath. I kid you not. He would shuffle his tiny bum to the perfect spot where his legs can stretch out comfortably and his head can lean back onto the tub.

And then he would give me this HEY MA, I’M SO CHILLING HERE look. That expression is priceless, I tell you.

Clearly, this kid is MINE. I love tubs. I love soaking in super hot tubs when we go on holiday and the little man must have retained the image of me relaxing in the tub when we were in Penang.

Because he is doing the exact same thing as I always do.

Anyway, there he was, chilling in the tub while I was shampooing my hair. I turned to keep my eye on him and was laughing to myself at the way he was all stretched out when I saw IT.

The perfect golden arc of pee.

It rose magnificently into the air before curving down. BACK INTO THE DAMN TUB!

Meanwhile, the kid was observing this sight with an amazed, OH MY DID YOU SEE THAT? look on his face. He was bathing in pee water and he had NO CLUE. In fact, he looked positively gleeful.

I did what any mother would have done. Shouted AIDAN!, fished him and his gazillion bath toys out of the tub and then rinsed clean water over them. He was a bit upset – and rightly so – and kept knocking on the tub, saying DIS! DIS! but there was no way I was going to put him back in.

And then I wondered, holy crap, how many times has he peed in the tub without me noticing?

After I related the story to husband, he said, “Well, it’s a good thing I always rinse him after taking him out of the tub.”

Err. What?

He looked at me incredulously, and said, “You do that, don’t you?”

I justified my actions (or the lack of) with the reason that pee is sterile.

Until I googled and realised that pee, for crying out loud, is NOT BLOODY STERILE.

Somebody hand me that Mum of The Year award?