We really took for granted our rather smooth pregnancy when we had Ernie. The same month my period resumed we were ready to try again for #2!  Alas, things were not so easy this time around. My period was irregular and it was very difficult to predict when was the right time of the month. Some months the cycle was some 40 days long and other months it was just 30 days. Suddenly having 12 months in a year meant only 10-12 opportunities and month after month we were disappointed with negative test results. 

Then in April 2016, we had success!! We were over the moon. Yet at the back of my mind I had this nagging feeling that I shouldn’t be celebrating too soon. After all, one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage within the first trimester a statistic that is quite hard to swallow. Then for real, the nightmare began. At our first antenatal scan, there was no heartbeat. I was quite certain I was 6 weeks along but I guess there was a chance I was wrong and it was perhaps too early. Dr Ho said to come back in 2 weeks. Boy were those two weeks nerve wrecking… At the next scan I was certain this couldn’t happen to us. But I guess it was just not meant to be… the embryo still had no heartbeat. It was diagnosed as a blighted ovum and Dr Ho scheduled me for a D&C two weeks later. 

At the scan just prior to the D&C I won’t deny that there was a part of me that was still hopeful that we would see a little blinking heart that I had taken for granted so often when we were having Ernie, but as you can guess, it was not to be. We went ahead with the procedure and I cried my heart out before and after. Though little fetus was barely more than a bundle of cells, I felt like it was my child. In the days to come I felt like I had to grieve silently. Friends and relatives who knew about it seemed to have their own experiences with miscarriages yet while it was well intentioned, it somehow made me feel like I wasn’t supposed to feel as miserable as I did. So I grieved quietly and alone. 

If anyone reading this is going through what I have, please go ahead and grieve. You have every right to do so.

Rest in peace little Blinky, mummy loves you.

In memory of Blinky Ho, gone to be with her Father on 10 June 2016.

I had a somewhat easy pregnancy with quite minimal morning sickness. I was quite nauseas but didn’t actually puke throughout my entire first trimester. Strangely though, I did throw up a few times at the start of my second trimester but beyond the 14th week or so, I was feeling pretty swell. I was kept pretty busy throughout the first two trimesters with our renovations and moving house and all that and it was quite uneventful pregnancy-wise.

That is until the third trimester… I was starting to feel very heavy and by then, I had gained almost 17kg. In my 32nd week, the baby suddenly grew almost 1kg within 2 weeks and it was quite apparent something was wrong. My doctor ordered an oral glucose tolerance test for me and lo and behold… I had gestational diabetes.

I felt like my world came crumbling down. I was devastated and mortified at the same time. All that additional blood sugar going straight to baby! What if my poor dietary choices had caused some permanent damage to baby? The dietician put me on a strict dietary regime. I had to count my carbohydrates and maintain a certain caloric intake. On top of all that, my doctor told me matter of factly, I would have to do a c-section. I tried asking if it was really necessary but he was all, “you pay me so much for my advice and then you don’t want to take it??”. OK… It’s pretty difficult to argue with Dr Ho. He gives you the “I know everything” look. Like how he was so pleased with himself that he was so spot on his GD diagnosis. His exact words were “This is called being ‘astute’. Do you know what ‘astute’ means?”. Geez, I almost said, “astute means being like you” but that would have been a bit too snarky. I was still depending on him to deliver my child.

So for the last four weeks of my pregnancy I carefully selected what I ate… no sugar (not even natural sugar like fruit juice) unless I counted it. Limited number of carbohydrate exchanges (15g of carb = 1 carbohydrate exchange) a day and must be spread out throughout the day. Pricking my finger every few hours some days a week made me even more paranoid and obsessed. Even though mild exercise after eating was supposed to help lower the blood sugar I didn’t find that it helped in that way. I did lose about 1 to 2 kg each week while baby continued to grow but at a slower pace.

I was also paranoid that the little one would be hypoglycaemic when born so I tried my best to express some colostrum for him before the birth. It was so painful to express and I only managed about 3ml each night for about a week.

Finally the d-day arrived and little Ernie was born with good blood sugars. Hooray! I was shaking too violently from the epidural and still somewhat sedated and I couldn’t breastfeed him immediately so the nurses fed him my expressed colostrum. Feeling strangely satisfied about that bit.

And so that was the end of a nine month long journey that I enjoyed tremendously. When pregnant I had such happy hormones coursing through my veins and everyone around me was treating me so nicely. It felt wonderful!

On the flip side, once baby is out I think the hormones do a see-saw and the first month felt so dark and gloomy and stressful. Post-partum blues is real! But let me save that for another post…