In March 2011, when the nurse at the clinic told me I was pregnant, I was surprised (or shocked, depending on how you look at it). I remembered quite well that particular moment, where a very happy, smiling nurse announced to me that it was "positive" and a very blurred me asking if she was sure. I also remembered, I went in for a check because I was mildly nauseous at certain time each day. And of course, it all went horribly for the first 20 weeks or so. I felt nauseous every single day. All I did was eat, drink, sleep and vomit in no particular order. Having lost 4 kg in the first 4 weeks of intense vomitting, I finally gained all of it back in mid-pregnancy at 21 weeks. I was relieved that finally, in week 22, my appetite came back out of the blue and the nauseous feeling just went away. So, of course, I ate and ate to my heart's content.
All was well for awhile, until three weeks before my due date, when all of the sudden, I developed eczema. Oh my, oh my! My arms and over-stretched tummy started to itch like mad and one week before my due date, my face too started to itch. At that time, I could not have been more impatient for our baby to come, as the GP (and the internet, when I googled) said that this eczema was pregnancy-induced and would only go away after birth. My tummy was huge (by my standards, OK!) and I felt so stretched that it was uncomfortable to get any sleep. Talking about sleep, in the last two months before I gave birth, I hardly slept. I probably slept an average of 2 hours a day. So, the lack-of-sleep and over-stretched me tried to do lots of walking (even uphill) for the hope of inducing labour. Of course that did not happen. There was still no sign of labour on my due date. Having booked a C-section on my due date, my husband and I were asked to go in to the Liverpool's Women Hospital early that morning at 7:30am. Having fasted since 10pm the night before and terribly excited at the prospect that I will finally get to meet our baby, I was therefore disappointed that I had to wait until 3pm before I was called to the operation theatre. I was starving of course, as no food or water was allowed. A sympathetic midwife gave me an ice cube to quench my thirst and I felt grateful for the relief it brought to my throat.
When I was finally called to be prepped for the operation theatre, I started to get anxious. I did not like needles and was trying very hard to be brave. The staff at the operation theatre were all really good and kind, trying to put me at ease. So, this was it, I thought. My husband came in after I was prepped and then, they cut me open. In less than a minute, a loud wailing filled the operation theatre. It was 1550 GMT. A head full of hair was shown to me. I smiled. They took her away to weigh. She weighed in at 7lb 7oz; quite a good size they said. They passed her to my husband who cradled her while one of the staff took some photos. All these happened while they stitched me up. Then, we went to the post-op room for monitoring. I was feeling dizzy from the low blood pressure but kept taking a peek at our lovely baby. When my pressure finally stabilized, they put our baby on my chest, where I cradled her joyously while they wheeled me back to the ward.
This was a totally different experience from what I had when I had chubby kid. So, what shall I call her in this blog? I think I will go with Baby G.