Bun in oven, The organised chaos

Ugly duck

Nong nong time ago (okay, it was merely SEVEN MONTHS AGO), I was glowy.

And now, presenting the bulbous nose and LV Neverfull eye bags!

Why am I even posting this ugly, sans makeup picture of myself on the Internetz? (Was chilling by the pool in Bali.)
I don’t know. Maybe I am not-so-secretly humble bragging? Meaning, now is your cue to start posting comments on how glowy I look currently, how I still am beautiful etc.

Urghs. Hate humblebrag. Why do people post obviously good-looking photos of themselves with “oh woe is me, I look awful” captions, just to invite flattering comments? Are we really that insecure and in need of validation?

Anyway, yeah, I’m being completely honest here. Not trying to fish for compliments. I feel tired and I look tired. Third trimester is kicking my ass, the depth of exhaustion is like a bottomless pit. I can sleep for seven hours and still feel like I can go on for another 10. My honker can press the buttons of the lift on my behalf and my eye bags can hold a towel.

One day, I am going to look all shiny and radiant again.

Maybe when my kids turn five?

Bun in oven

The whale

I’m now at the stage where everything about me is big: my boobs are spilling out of my clothes; my face is fat; my Jackie Chan honker is back in business; my feet is swollen and resemble puffy sausages; my stomach is obstructing my path.

In short, I look big and I feel monstrous. MEH.

Two seems to be feeling the lack of space too. Instead of cute kicks and buttery flutters, the poor little baby has taken to wriggling. It’s so…odd. I mean, imagine someone nudging you from inside. And the kid is ALL OVER THE PLACE. I can get strange wriggles above my belly button and all the way to my waist on the right. AT THE SAME TIME.

Mmm, maybe Two will be all supermodel-ly with long lanky limbs. LIKE FABULOUSLY GORGEOUS MAMA!

And because the giant uterus requires space, all my innards have been unceremoniously shoved aside. My stomach is probably somewhere up my chest – I wouldn’t know, I can’t really feel it anymore. But what this means is that the horrible nausea that I used to get during the first trimester is saying HELLO AM BACK! Sometimes, I would retch after brushing my teeth. Or after breakfast. According to the good doctor, the stomach is being squashed, which leads to nausea. Wahey.

But it’s all good. This isn’t forever and hey, I’m never going to be pregnant again. So I’m trying my best to enjoy this as much as possible.

Two gets some music time via the Belly Buds almost every night and I go to sleep to the soothing hypnobirthing tracks. The Muji diffuser in my room is puffing out lulling lavender into the air. The night is still (until Aidan wakes up, anyway) and the air-conditioning is humming.

It’s all good.

Bun in oven

Waiting for my littlest

Dear Two,

And just like that, we are into the last stretch. In less than 12 weeks, we should finally lay eyes on each other for the first time. And I cannot wait.

Right now, I’m entering the phase where everything is starting to be quite uncomfortable. I’m lumbering around, I can’t take deep breaths, my stomach has been displaced and I can no longer tolerate heavy meals, walking can be painful sometimes etc.

But you know what? I’m the odd sort who really enjoys pregnancy, I do. I love the connection that I have with my unborn child – you – and the fact that this is something that can never be replicated. For these past 28 weeks, you have been a part of me and I am all that you know. And that’s an experience that I can never relive again. I want to make sure that every moment is lived positively and not wasted on whinging about how tough it is, especially since you are going to be my second and last baby. I only have 12 more weeks to go and already that fact is making me a little sad.

So I’m relishing in every ticklish wriggle, every cute little hiccup, every odd sensation. I laugh when I HAVE. TO. GO. PEE. NAO. because I know that you have somehow moved your little ass (or head, I wouldn’t know, really) on top of my bladder. I smile when it’s just you and me in the dark of the night or the cool of the morning. I feel your limbs poking out of me and I can’t help but poke back at you. I think about the moment when I will finally get to see you in real life, and whether it will be as surreal as it was when I met your brother for the first time. I love it when I read the “big brother” books to Aidan and he lifts my shirt up to “kiss baby”.

You are so loved, my littlest, so loved.

The other night, your papa and I were lying together on the bed. I was playing the Hypnobirthing affirmations and relaxation tracks out on the speakers and you were merrily bouncing away. I told your papa to put his hand on my tummy to feel your movements and you, my darling, obliged. (Your brother NEVER did, he would stop whenever he felt papa’s hand and then perform his tricks again once papa moved the hand away. He’s still as cheeky today.)

And so we laid there, his hand on my tummy, large and warm and secure and comforting. You delivered few wriggles and kicks, now and then. And we fell asleep like that, in a hypnotic haze of exhaustion and love.

12 more weeks. Stay inside me for as long as you can, my little one. And then you will be coming home with us.

Love you to the moon and back (yes, you too),
mama

Bun in oven

Mind games

For various reasons that I won’t go into, Mr Thick and I have decided that we will not be finding out the sex of Number Two before delivery. Throughout our visits to our obstetrician, we made it clear to the doctor that we are not interested to know if baby has any hanging appendage and he has kindly obliged us thus far.

“Makes my job easier!” he says.

Until the detailed scan. (This. This should remind you of what the detailed scan is all about.)

We were sitting in his office discussing the results of the scan (all good) when we got to the measurement of the baby’s head.

Dr T: It’s consistent with all the other measurements, an average number.
Me: Oh! And I thought baby has a big head.
Dr T: The measurement actually falls in the middle.
Me: Oh, my son has a big head so naturally, I assumed that this one’s head is big too.
Dr T: Well, maybe this is a girl then.
Me: WHAT!
Dr T: I don’t know, I’m just making it up.
Me: Nooooooooo. You can’t say stuff like that.
Dr T: (laughs) I really don’t know, I am just saying.
Me: No no no no no, don’t say anymore!

For the record, we still have no clue. And we aim to remain clueless!

Bun in oven, Letters to

Moments

Dear Number Two,

How are you? How’s life in mama’s cosy, watery womb?

While I haven’t been updating the world about your every move and every flutter, I don’t want you to think that it’s because I love you any lesser. We have had moments, you and me and papa and gor gor, but I just never got round to penning these moments down.

Let’s talk about this afternoon. It had been an exhausting day for me, having sat through four hours of assessments. I was this close to putting my head down to sleep but I had work to do. As I was powering through my slides, you started reminding me of your presence.

You started bubbling away in my belly, first here then there. And it was so adorable. You are at the stage (20 weeks) where you flutter around oh so gently, because you are still teeny tiny. And as you pop around under my skin, I started tapping on the belly and you would respond.

It was a good moment.

Just the other morning, your papa and Aidan were snoozing in the other bedroom. It was just me and you on that big bed of ours. The morning was cool and there was a gentle breeze. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon and the day was blissfully still.

I laid on the bed, saying nothing, doing nothing. And then you went POP! Before I knew it, there was a trail of “bubbles” running across the belly. I smiled and said hi to you, and you continued fluttering for a while.

And then the door opened and your brother burst into the room with loud pitter-patters, and the moment ended.

It was a good moment.

And then, there was the other night. Papa and I were trying to put Aidan to bed. That boy, he loves, LOVES to kiss you. At ever opportunity that he has, he will ask to “kiss mama baby”. It was exactly like that, that night.

I was lying down on his bed and he asked to kiss my tummy. I said, yes please and he obliged with a MMMMM-MUAH. Only this time, he kept going at it, kissing and giggling at my belly. Papa and I laughed at his gleeful smile, and there was so much love and happiness enveloping the room.

It was a beautiful moment.

Right now, I am relishing this: the feeling of you in my tummy, carrying you everywhere with me. I daresay this is something that all mothers love and miss the most. (Also, the baby is here but not throwing tantrums! Or pooping at the wrong time! Or crying incessantly!)

We are at the halfway mark, Two. Hang in there, we still have just a little bit more to go.

Love you always,
mama

Bun in oven

What’s that they say?

As a mother, I always repeat this to anyone who listens: EVERY CHILD IS DIFFERENT.

And now that I have Number Two all snuggling up in my belly, I can safely say that the differences extend to pregnancy.

ALL PREGNANCIES ARE DIFFERENT.

So, Number Two.

The morning sickness is perpetual. It was terrible just a couple of weeks ago, I would lie down in bed immediately after husband got home. I still get the regular heaving on a daily basis and I did throw up more than the previous pregnancy, but the general sense of sickness has thankfully dissipated. With Aidan, I was sick all the way up till about 14 weeks or so and those days were bad. I had to take the train to and fro work and it was a nightmare. All I can remember is me clinging on to the pole for dear life as I tried not to retch in the jerky, stuffy MRT cabin. These days, I’d heave as I am driving and thank the gods that I am sitting in the air-conditioned comforts of my own car. Perspective, people.

I’m still tired as hell but hey, with a 20-month-old who does not sleep through the night, ANYONE would feel tired. Most days, I go to bed at 930 or so.

See, back when I was pregnant the first time, I had nothing else to care for. When I got home, I would lie down on the sofa and rest. Or I would watch mindless TV programs like “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant!” and get all WTF over them. Now? Hah! I have to constantly chase after the little boy who cannot sit still. No time to lie down and moan about feeling sick!

Oh, Number Two.

We saw him/her the other day when we had our 9-week scan. My baby is, for the lack of a better word, a BLOB. Really. It was a blob with what looked like a tail. But he/she was clearly moving, the doctor pointed out. Too cute! I have a moving blob of a baby!

Also, please do not be as active as your brother. I’m not sure my aging legs and lungs can handle the two of you.

All’s good, we are proceeding with the OSCAR screening and I no longer have Dead Baby Thoughts.

Second time around, I am a chill mum.

Also, a mum who is crazy busy at work and dead tired after work, therefore has no energies to waste on Dead Baby Thoughts.

And who is going to bed now. At the late timing of 11pm. Goodnight grandma me.