Hannah & Daddy’s big day came and went. We’re still suffering from the after effects of the day, so I can only give you snapshots of what happened…


Scene 1

Was this taken at the beginning or the end of the day?



7am – Father and daughter started the day in a similar fashion, unwilling to face the realities of a long, tiring day.


Scene 2

“Careful how you carry her; are you sure it’s ok to carry a young baby like that?”

“Oh don’t worry, she likes it like that.”

“Cindy, how are you coping now? Are the nights getting better?”

“Are you two leaving now? Oh, never mind then, I’ll wait till next week.”

“So cute… She looks like you Chris!”

11:40am – Chris, Hannah and I inched slowly out of church, taking half a step each time towards the door, but obviously Hannah was drawing too much attention. We usually enjoy catching up with friends after the church service, but that day we had an important lunch appointment.

Hannah’s grandparents were waiting outside the church building, not interrupting but looking slightly concerned, glancing intermittently at their watches.

Finally, Hannah saved the day by letting out a loud wail. Snatching the opportunity to excuse ourselves, we quickly bundled out of church into the bright afternoon sun.


Scene 3

(Telephone rings)
“Are you guys still at home?! The whole world is here already!”

Babies have no concept of time (other than feeding time), so we were more than a little behind time for Hannah’s Full Moon party. Oblivious to the stress she was creating, Hannah wanted to complete her cycle of ‘input’ and ‘output’ before leaving the house, and even attempted to catch a nap in between!

Hannah’s Gong Gong* (grandpa), Po Po** (grandma) and Tua Ku* (eldest uncle) had already called at various times before we finally stepped into the restaurant, just over half an hour late.


* Hokkien terms
** Cantonese term (my mother is Cantonese, my father is Hokkien) 

Scene 4

Ignorance is bliss they say, but even though Chris could not understand much of the conversation going on around him, his blood pressure soared as a scene of chaos greeted us.

Having made a grand entrance, Hannah was the immediate centre of attraction. Known as a baby-loving clan, several great aunts instantly swirled around the infant carrier, even whilst Chris was struggling to set it up in the stroller.

An elderly great aunt, obviously not familiar with the 5-in-1 contraption of stroller/ infant car seat/ infant carrier/ rocker and feeding seat looked in disdain at us. The instructions shot out steadily (translated from Hokkien):

“Are you sure she’s comfortable in that?” (despite the fact that Hannah was sleeping soundly)

“Why are there all these straps? Look, it’s leaving red marks on her skin. Take it off!” (off went the safety belts)

“She’s feeling cold, quickly cover her with something.” (a clean nappy cloth was thrown over her legs)

“Why is her head in a funny angle? Can you adjust this thing so she’s more comfortable?” (I had to insist Hannah was feeling perfectly comfortable by now)


Thankfully, Hannah slept soundly through lunch, cleverly avoiding being passed around from one person to another. Still, she was ‘exhibit A’, and could not avoid viewings from relatives, with the occasional poking and pinching.

It became slightly unbearable when my aunts turned the attention to me.

“Have you been drinking enough DOM?”

“Don’t eat that! It’s too ‘cooling’ for you” (dessert was a delicious-looking honey dew sago with ice cream)

“I thought you were not supposed to eat spicy foods?”

And so the afternoon went by with an almost constant barrage of well-meaning comments on how I should be taking care of Hannah and myself, and of course, comments about breastfeeding.

Scene 5

Unfortunately, the attention was too much for poor Hannah to bear. Before dessert appeared, she was wide awake and not very happy. Po Po tried to calm her down and introduced her to my cousin’s baby (held by his Po Po) – only 5 months older and perhaps 3 times bigger!

The bigger boy burst into tears, triggering off another baby in the restaurant. Soon we had 3 babies crying simultaneously. Hannah will grow up to be an influential person!


Once again, Hannah saved the day by requesting for another feed. We left just as we came, ‘grandly’, with all eyes on us - a screaming baby and rather frazzled parents.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent coaxing the tired little baby into her usual routine of feeding and sleeping, with little success.

Finally at 9pm, in the same manner as she started off her day, Hannah fell into a deep sleep in Daddy’s arms. Everyone in the household heaved a sigh of relief. No more big crowds for Hannah for a long time. 

Hannah Says

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Ok, so it's tomorrow and not today. But seeing how busy we'll be tomorrow, I thought I should do this before I forget. We've got to go to church, and then to my party. What was it again? Oh yes, my Full Moon party. Let's see, between the folks at church and all our relatives at the lunch, I'd expect to be passed around at least, say, 40 times? Sigh, the things I put up with...

Mummy says you will be, err, almost 30 years old?! Wow, how does it feel to be so old? I am only over a month old, so you must be many many times older than me!

As a birthday present for you, I have decided to make a few resolutions, which I am sure will please you:

1. I will wake up only once every night and sleep through the night within a month’s time.

2. Whenever you change my nappy I will not aim or shoot unmentionables in your direction.

3. I will not fall asleep within 5 minutes of starting my feeds.

4. I will stop fussing and fall asleep within minutes of your cuddling or rocking.

5. I will look pretty each time you take a picture of me, so we can land an advertisement deal and earn a lifetime supply of diapers.

Oh, all this talking is tiring.

I think I’m going to start crying hysterically and get some attention. Hopefully someone will feed me then put me down for a nap.

You adults never seem to know what I want.

It’s tough being a baby. Yawn.

Happy Birthday again Daddy. Oh, and love from Mummy too.

Hugs and kisses,
Hannah

Motherhood Musings

Almost 6 weeks on, and it finally feels like things are picking up speed. From an old rickety KTM* overnight mail train, we now seem to be progressing to the speed of the Eurostar passing through the underwater tunnel.

Well, almost.

There are still colicky nights when we wonder if we would ever live to see daylight. But compared to Hannah’s first week (‘the longest week of our lives’), we seem to be calmer parents (and grandparents), more able to decipher her cries and anticipate her needs.

I often wonder what mothers do with the endless hours spent feeding their babies. Occasionally I manage to read a little or eat a little, but always with an eye on the little girl, who tends to be unpredictable. With my favourite radio station playing in the background, here are some threads of thoughts that have drifted through my mind in these last few sleep-deprived weeks…

Weight loss

After getting over the initial discomfort of delivery, I realized that once again, for a long time, I could see my toes! By the first week I could wear my old shoes, skip, jump and run. With joy I saw the scales tipping in my favour, showing an almost instantaneous loss of half the weight I had gained this pregnancy.

The second week came and went. Reality hit me. I wasn’t going to lose any more weight, not so quickly at least. Since I had chosen to breastfeed, it meant no silly Atkins’s dieting until Hannah starts depending on cows for food.

By the fourth week, I was desperately going through my wardrobe, looking for remnants of clothing I could still wear to work. After all, in a couple of week’s time I had to attend a work-related conference, and another month later, I’d be back at work.

The verdict? Face the facts and go on a shopping spree. I am convinced that Hannah prefers people who are more “padded”, which must be why my mother is Hannah’s favourite companion when she fusses (not discounting her years of experience, of course!). So, if my daughter is happy, I’m happy.


Cow’s milk vs. Mother’s milk

When did human beings start depending on cows for this form of nutrition? Why do we feed our babies cow’s milk, not goat’s or any other mammal's? If we find it hard to imagine our precious baby feeding on another person’s milk, how is it that we so readily give them an animal's milk? Yet this must be an ancient practice since even the bible mentions the Promised Land as one of “flowing with milk and honey”.

Shouldn't it be unusual for people to think it unusual to breastfeed?

A generation ago, feeding formula milk was considered the norm. Some manufacturers even promoted their product as being ‘superior’ to mother’s milk in some aspects. My mother recalls purchasing the ‘best’ brand to feed all 4 of us. Even up till my university days, I recall students protesting against a manufacturer for promoting their products in the developing world using unethical methods.

The tide has changed. Now, the tagline is “breast is best”, with all government hospitals enforcing strict breastfeeding policies from day one of life. Infant formula tins display prominent labels with current health ministry recommendations of exclusive breastfeeding till 6 months of life. Perhaps it will take another generation for the mindset to change. Only 29% of Malaysian mothers follow the current recommendation, and no wonder.

The older generation comprising of grandparents, confinement ladies and self-proclaimed childcare experts in all forms (well-meaning friends and relatives) are still THE people who influence how an inexperienced young mother brings up her newborn.

My first week of breastfeeding was emotionally traumatic, with all sorts of conflicting advice coming my way. Some insisted I should bottle-feed the baby while waiting for my “milk to come in”, while all current literature clearly states that breastfeeding alone is sufficient. To this day, I still get unhelpful comments such as “are you sure you have enough milk?”, or even hints that expressing milk at work is too troublesome. A friend had this said to her: "Oh, please stop breastfeeding, you remind me of a cow!” How ironic.

No doubt, breastfeeding in public and milk expression at work are still challenges facing every well-meaning mother. I admit to nights when I lie in bed wondering how, when and where I could possibly achieve this at work, despite working in a hospital! Malaysian public toilets are infamously notorious for being, err hem, unhygienic to say the least. Now that is public enemy number one to lactating mothers.

Sigh, a Chinese saying goes: “xin you yu er li bu zu”. We may have all the best intentions in the world but still fail due to limited abilities.

This is not a cop out for me, but a realistic statement of the current situation. So far I have fought tooth and nail to give what I feel is the best for my daughter, I only hope I will have sufficient stamina and determination to carry it through. After all, going back to working 24-hour-calls shouldn’t be as difficult as before, considering we’ve been “on call” every night for over a month!

Oh dear, this has turned out much longer than expected. Even if you have thrice the attention span of my daughter, you’d be starting to get bored. Believe it or not, I have much more to say but will leave it till another day when Hannah permits me to spend time at the computer.

Let me end with this little excerpt from a card we received:

"Wishing you bags of energy, an extra pair of arms, a wild imagination, plenty of supernatural wisdom... and hearts full of endless extraordinary love"

Don't we just need that?


*Keretapi Tanah Melayu: the national train service

Hannah's first trip to church

"Are we nearly there yet?"

 

"Well I'm glad you find me entertaining."

 

Full Moon Celebration

A quick Google search will yield a mish-mash of results for this one. It ranges from Buddha's birthday, to the Chinese mid-Autumn Festival, and even ancient Greek mythology. Our previous blog would give you a clue about what this is all about.

Yesterday was Malaysia's 49th Merdeka Day (Independence Day), and naturally, a public holiday. Cindy's parents took the opportunity to make a day trip to their hometown, Port Dickson, to do what every proud Chinese grandparent would do: announce Hannah's one-month birthday!

Armed with packs of "goodies", they went round to houses of friends to distribute the gifts and announced the good news. The contents included: roasted chicken, nasi kunyit (yellow glutinous rice), curry chicken, hard-boiled egg dyed red, ang koo kueh (glutinous cakes with green bean paste filling) and pickled young ginger. Interestingly, the ang koo kueh is ball shaped for a male baby, and peach shaped for a female.


Hannah's Full Moon celebrations will culminate in a special lunch next weekend, hosted by Cindy's parents, and attended by close friends and extended family members. Although it all sounds rather extravagant, a shrewd mother pointed this out: the Chinese will never allow themselves to be on the losing end! A common returning gesture would be to give ang pow (red packets containing money) to Hannah, or gifts, including jewelry.

Of course, Hannah's grandparents are simply happy, excited and proud to show off our family's newest addition, and will not be balancing the accounts so calculatively.

Oh, I can see questions coming... what do all those different food represent? Hmm, I'm sure they have various auspiscious meanings, but that is totally lost on me. An online search may do the trick, but you will have to forgive this busy new mother for not doing her homework. 

House Arrest!

Today should be the day to throw a huge party in celebration of Hannah’s “coming of age” – that is, a month old. According to strict confinement practices, it should also be my first hair wash in 30 days.

Welcome to the world of traditional Chinese confinement practices, otherwise known to rebellious people like myself as “House Arrest”. Although my parents are now Christians, occasionally it is difficult to differentiate between cultural and superstitious belief. So, since the birth of Hannah, I have been subjected to a watered-down version of Chinese confinement. This encompasses a 30-day period of dietary and lifestyle restrictions, with the aim to improve the health and well-being of both mother and infant.

Here is a glimpse of what it should be, and how I fared:

Mother and child must not leave the house during the confinement period

Some of you must have been wondering why Hannah’s first outing was such a big deal that we had to blog about it. She should have been ‘let out’ only today, when we should rightly have a Full Moon celebration. This would involve lots of friends and relatives, a big Chinese meal and lots of presents for Hannah! Apparently, pregnant women should not touch her at this time, as it would cause her to be a difficult child to handle in future. Oh, as for myself, I’ve already done two shopping trips with Chris to get supplies for Hannah.

No hair-washing for 30 days

Ah, I can imagine some of you going “Eeuuu”. Fear not, this practice is so widely practiced that we now have dry shampoo to relieve some of the discomfort. The rationale is to keep “fung” or "wind” out of the mother’s body and prevent unnecessary joint problems in future. I managed to last till the end of the first week before I put my foot down and insisted on some degree of personal hygiene.

No bathing for 12 days

On the 13th day, women are supposed to bathe in warm, boiled water with herbs. Some sweep alcohol all over their bodies to "close the pores" and "reduce wind from entering the body". You can imagine how impractical this is in a warm tropical country like Malaysia. I had my warm shower on Day 3.

No direct exposure to “wind”

For example, no air-conditioning or direct usage of a fan or even a hair dryer. I have been sleeping in an air-conditioned room with the fan blowing at top speed each night. Looks like I'm bound for arthritis by the time I hit 35.

No TV watching for more than 15 minutes at a time

The eyes are thought to age first and watching TV can speed this up. As such, no reading for long periods, and no excessive crying. Well, no problem with this one as I’ve not had much time to watch TV, or have any form recreation anyway!

Do not carry heavy objects or sit/walk for too long

This includes carrying the baby! The aim is to allow the internal organs to heal well, preventing conditions such as uterine prolapse. Hmm. The Chinese usually employ a confinement lady during this period, who will not only help to look after the infant, but also cook special confinement food, allowing the recuperating mother much needed rest. Ah, but try breastfeeding, on demand, and you will realise how impossible this is. Relatives who came to visit noted with disapproval that I spent too much time sitting in front of the computer and not in bed. Most insist that I should retreat to the bedroom and have a lie down. My excuse? Surfing the net is a form of relaxation for me - times have changed. I could do it in bed, but our wireless isn't working.

Do not drink plain water for 20 days

Or was it 30 days? Everyone has their own version on this one. Apparently, we have to drink a special herbal concoction in place of plain water. Much as I enjoyed the herbal drink, I was sneaking in water into the room by the first day. I compromised and drank warm water initially, then my mother gave up on me and allowed me to drink whatever.

Special confinement diet

It has been a month-long of ginger, rice wine, sesame seed oil and Benedictine DOM. Thankfully I was spared some of the extreme food preparations of pig offal, although I would have enjoyed eating frogs – somehow Ma never got round to buying that for me. Generally I ate what was placed in front of me, and obediently stayed away from anything taken directly from the fridge. To this day I have yet to figure out which foods are “heaty” and which are “cool”, and when I’m meant to eat which. Just thank God for the food and eat, I say.

There are many more taboos and restrictions during the confinement period – there must be books written on this subject. In the early days I was rather rebellious and disliked the restrictions imposed on me. Soon I realized that the pressure was also on my mother, who acted as my confinement lady. Well meaning relatives would visit or call, asking how mother and baby were doing. Everyone would give their opinion on confinement practices, reminding my mother that mother and baby would suffer all sorts of pains and aches if she didn’t do things right. They would mention someone who had particularly bad arthritis as a result of having a shower every evening, or chronic backache due to insufficient bed rest.

Say what you want, but these folks really believe in the cause and effect of confinement practices. Since the beliefs are so culturally ingrained, the psychological effect is even greater. Every good doctor knows that as long as the patient trusts you, half the battle is won. Never mind that postnatally all women have stretched ligaments and hence are more prone to backaches, or the fact that having to care for a little baby involves lots of carrying, cuddling and rocking – all of which leads to aches in the back and arms!

I suppose at the end of the day, the intent is good. After all, the aim is to protect the well-being of the mother and child. Someone said that confinement practices may actually have started from the days of ancient China, where women had their only time of rest after having a child. Otherwise, women had to work hard in the fields from dawn to dusk, and look after the needs of the household. A lifetime of hardship and suffering punctuated by brief periods of pampering and rest.

As for me, I will celebrate my release today, at the same time realizing that I have already broken many of the confinement rules. I have no intention of being disrespectful to those who unyieldingly cling to such practices , yet I will have to appeal to my own sense of logic before willingly embracing some of these teachings. What I have followed, I do so out of respect for my mother. Whenever relatives come, I quickly put on my fluffy house slippers and make sure I wear a long sarong (all to keep out “wind”), consciously making sure that I spend a portion of their visit time in my bedroom. After all, I don’t want to get my mother in trouble!

There are many more stories I could tell, such as using the baby's dirty diaper to clean his face to get rid of unsightly rashes(milia, which is normal and self-limiting), or bathing the baby in alcohol to reduce "heatiness". Anyone has more stories to contribute?

Hannah's First Outing

It was a big day. Maybe too big. Hannah was clearly overwhelmed by the experience of going for a walk around our apartment's compound and decided to sleep through the whole thing! Oh well. Mummy and Daddy were still excited about the outing.

Preparing for the REAL world

We've been playing around with the baby-carrier over the last few days in anticipation of Hannah finally getting out and about in the big wide world. We think she looks just about ready!


You may recognise this baby-carrier / car-seat from a previous blog. 9th July, to be precise (click here to see the Archives!). At that time we only had a teddy-bear to practise with. Even though that was only one and a half months ago, I don't think we could have imagined what was to come! How could we have imagined how cute and adorable Hannah would be? How could we have fully understood what an awesome responsibility she would place upon us? How could we have had any idea what a challenge persistent sleep-deprivation could be?!?! But we thank God for the wonderful reality of Hannah in our lives. 

Another Milestone

This morning, at the grand age of 4 weeks, Hannah managed to take her first feed from a bottle of expressed milk.


Mummy and Daddy weren't having much success (or maybe not enough patience?!) with Hannah, but after a few attempts from Po Po (Grandma), she happily sucked away. Does this mean we can begin to look forward to more hassle-free feeds in the future? At the very least, we hope Cindy gets to sleep a bit more at night... Of course, at the expense of Daddy :-P 

Babe Magnet

"I need some bonding time with my niece", Uncle John announced loudly during dinner.

Chris and I quickly offered Hannah to him for the night, but I pointed out that feeding her would pose a slight problem. Ah, but there are bottles of expressed milk in the fridge and freezer!

Hannah's Uncle John is my elder brother who hit the big three-O some years back. He used to be amused by his friends' endless matchmaking attempts, but of late has been getting a little weary of the not-so-subtle winks and nudges. He reckons he can do better on his own, and this is where Hannah comes into the picture.

"When Hannah gets a little older, I'll take her out to parks for walks. You know, point out trees, flowers and stuff."

Wow, I thought, he's giving us a rare glimpse of his softer side. But then, the ulterior motive surfaced.

"Then, when the girls see how cute Hannah is, they'll come over and ask to play with her."

Ah, so that's the reason. Meeting and chatting up girls. What if they assume you are married?

I suppose Chris and I could offer to be part of the scam. At the right moment, we could step in to reclaim Hannah and leave John to exchange phone numbers with the girls. After all, a bachelor who handles babies well must be even more of a catch!

Well, who would have thought of Hannah as a potential babe magnet?

Anyone up for writing the book - "101 uses of a cute baby"?

Hannah's Birth Story

WARNING: The following account is a true story with explicit and gory descriptions of the birth process of a baby girl. Please refrain from further reading/viewing if you have any one of the following conditions: weak heart, weak knees, blood phobia, hyperventilation, anxiety disorder or a predisposition to fainting. Parental guidance advised for young children. Caution advised for expecting mothers.


Alright, now that I have cleared myself of responsibility from the consequences of posting this sort of article, I shall proceed with Hannah’s story…

When Did It All Start?

The precise date is difficult to pinpoint, but let’s put it at 27th July, Thursday evening. Having resigned myself to an eventual induced labour, I had made plans for the weekend and asked Chris to book his leave for when our baby was expected to arrive (by induction). I even went online to check the latest movie offerings at nearby cinemas, thinking this would help me pass time.

My contractions had been increasing over the last week, but having had 3 previous hospital admissions, with one of false labour, I was determined to “get it right” if I ever did go to the hospital again. So, on Thursday evening, when I noticed spotting for the first time, I silently rejoiced. A quick call was made to a friend who happened to be the Gynaecology Registrar on-call that night and I was reassured that I could wait a little longer for the contractions to get more regular.

A Test of Patience

That night, the contractions were 10-20 minutes apart, but no closer. By 4 am the pain was too disturbing for sleep to be possible, so Chris had to be woken up to prepare me a midnight snack. Yet, by sunrise, the pain was back to my familiar Braxton-Hicks. All that was left was a sleepy mummy and daddy-to-be, but I was glad I had waited and not gone to the hospital.

The same occurred for the subsequent two nights – strong, regular contractions at night which petered out by sunrise. Worried that I may be too complacent, I performed my own fetal heart monitoring using my stethoscope and a stopwatch all three nights. Satisfied that Hannah’s heart was beating strongly through the contractions, I continued to wait.

Enough was enough after enduring 3 sleepless nights. After watching “A Beautiful Mind” at 4am on Sunday morning, we decided to give church a miss and check myself into the hospital for a proper assessment. Contractions were still 15 minutes apart, but the pain was bearable. Was this the real thing?

 

Admission - It has begun!

When we reached the hospital at 9am, I was well versed with the routine – change of clothes, general monitoring of vital signs and an enema. I was ushered into a room and hooked up to a cardiotocogram on bed 13. Unfortunately, the hospital is still way behind times and not father-friendly. I was left alone lying on my side, strapped to a machine, staring at the sterile walls, feeling every contraction and trying desperately to distract myself, knowing this would last at least several hours.

Finally, the specialist-on-call came and attended to me – a doctor I had never met in my life! My usual Obstetrician was away on sick leave, so I had little choice but to accept whoever was available. A quick assessment showed I was truly in early labour, dilated to 3cm. An offer of epidural was made at this stage, but I had decided early on to accept as little medical intervention as possible. Not only did I refuse an epidural, I also refused sedative pain relief injections. Ironically, I had spent the last two years of my career in Anaesthesia performing, among other things, epidurals and spinal anaesthesia for patients in labour!

My next assessment was planned in 4 hours time, so I was allowed to walk out of the labour room to speak to Chris and my mom. It was close to lunch time, but I had a sinking feeling I would be forced to fast till delivery. After meeting the friends my mom had made in the waiting room (extended families of two Malay ladies!), I quickly gulped down a few biscuits (Chris’ emergency supply) and spent the rest of the time chatting and discussing what Chris should do next.

No Husbands Allowed!

There was no way Chris would be allowed into my delivery suite. Occasionally, exceptions were made, but it was just unfortunate my suite was a shared unit with another lady. Although Chris was ‘smuggled’ in during a previous admission, we knew this time I’d have to face the labour pains alone.

The estimated time of delivery was in 7 hours’ time, and the midwife advised Chris and my mom to go home for a quick meal and rest before coming back in a few hours. Although I was a little reluctant to see them leave, I knew there was little they could do in the uncomfortable waiting room. To make matters worse, I was not allowed to bring in my mobile phone! Chris could call the hospital, they said, to check on my progress.

All Alone

Meanwhile, I insisted on bringing in the day’s newspaper to read. As I lay in bed and watched the midwife strap on the CTG yet again, I was informed that the monitoring would be continuous, which meant I had no chance of leaving the bed for the next few hours! This translates to no toilet trips, no visitors, and only pure, undistracted pain. For a hospital that is linked to the top university in the country, I was more than a little disappointed that they still practice such conservative management. After all, friends in the UK reading this would be familiar with home births, warm baths in labour, walking epidurals and definitely the presence of a comforting husband! So much for birth plans and choosing birth positions. Here, I had to do as I was told. The labour suite felt like a torture chamber.

So, my next few hours were spent reading the Sunday Star and doing breathing exercises during contractions. My only distraction was the midwife who came intermittently, and an enthusiastic medical student who spent a considerable amount of time taking a detailed history from me. The contractions were getting stronger and longer, but still bearable. I prayed that my next assessment would show some sort of progress and that this would not end up in another false labour or an augmented labour (using medication to increase the intensity of contractions).

 

Too Late for Regrets

At 2pm, a male doctor (senior SHO) came and asked for my permission before proceeding with an assessment. I could not help but break into a smile when told I was 7 cm dilated. Finally, this was going to happen. My happiness was short-lived. He quickly performed an artificial rupture of my membranes, after which everything progressed swiftly. By now it was too late to request for an epidural, but I accepted a second offer of a pain relief injection and a standby supply of Entonox (laughing gas).

Once the opioid effect kicked in, I could relax and sleep in between contractions. Yet when the contractions were at their peak, nothing seemed to be able to ‘take the edge’ off it. Was I regretting not having an epidural? Perhaps. I made a mental note never ever to underestimate the labour pains of my patients. I had seen countless patients in various stages of labour, given many epidurals/spinals and seen the almost immediate calming effect of pain relief, but I was also guilty of the sin, on many occasions, of a tired doctor writing off a patient’s complaint as trivial on a long night call. Never again.

Experience of a Lifetime

The next couple of hours were the most unimaginable ever. In the background I could hear another lady moaning and screaming in pain, apparently stuck at 9cm for several hours. Her room must have been across the corridor from mine, but her voice carried far and loud. My room-mate was still in early labour, but had followed my cue to refuse epidural and was no doubt getting worried at my increasing distress. My contractions soon increased in frequency, reaching a stage where a second contraction would mount before the first had completely subsided. Nothing could help – the pain relief felt non-existent, the Entonox only helped regulate my deep breathing, and my midwife offered very few words of comfort. “Breathe in deeply”, was all she could repeat, over and over again.

Nature took over at 10cm. I felt an unbearable urge to push all of sudden and knew instinctively that I must be ready for the next stage of labour. Yet, to my horror, another senior SHO came along and announced that I was still 7cm and should not push! By now, I could scarcely care what I said or did, as the contractions were all-consuming. In fact, I hardly remember what I moaned, and hope I did not say anything offensive! My medical student (I had consented for him to be present at my delivery – after all, I was a student once) was probably the most consistent in offering words of encouragement and comfort, but could do little to relief my distress.

God Bless the Midwife

Finally, my midwife (thank God for her experience!) did an unscheduled assessment and pronounced I was dilated at 10cm, just minutes after I was supposedly at 7cm. She quickly notified the Specialist-on-call and positioned me for delivery. Despite the pain, I could not help but marvel at God’s amazing design of the human body. Having no epidural to numb my sensation, I could tell exactly when to push and was surprised that it was easier than expected. Each contraction helped to propel my little baby from the womb out into the world, and the pain seemed to have a very specific purpose now. It all seemed to fall into place, the body doing what it needed to do to complete this miracle of life.

My Obstetrician must have given me an episiotomy, but I never felt it. I only remember a feeling of immense relief and release when Hannah fully emerged from the womb at 4:58pm. She cried immediately at birth (such a clever girl) and was placed in my arms immediately while her cord was cut. In my exhaustion I could hardly inspect her carefully, but made sure she was tagged correctly before the midwife took her away for cleaning. My placenta was delivered uneventfully and the wound repaired accordingly. I could still feel my uterus contracting intermittently, but knew this was normal and expected.

It's All Over, or Is It?

Within the hour, Hannah was back in my arms and breastfeeding. I was still mildly sedated and could just about hold her against me. Being all wrapped up in cloths, all I could see was a very chubby face with long eye-lashes. Ah, so you are the one who has been causing Mummy all this trouble. I smiled and talked to her, but she was obviously too hungry to notice. Before long, the midwife reappeared and announced that Hannah had been visited by Daddy and Grandma in the nursery earlier, and whisked her away again to afford me some well-deserved rest. Later, I was transferred to a general ward for recuperation overnight, and discharged uneventfully the next afternoon.

Hannah’s story doesn’t end here, it merely begins. Our lives have been turned upside-down with her arrival, but we treasure her as a gift from God. All stories must end somewhere, and this is where we will leave it, for now.

 

"Grrr! Tiger on the loose!"

 

REMEDY REVIEW

Although far, far from being experienced parents, we are beginning to learn a few more things about our little Hannah and how best to handle her which includes dealing with her occassional colic. No doubt many parents looking at this will relate to the problem of colic. We are interested to know what remedies you have experimented with (regardless of whether they worked or not!) so do please add your comments after reading this.

But now, let us give you our own experience of dealing with colic in the form of...
A 5-star rating REMEDY REVIEW.

a. Benedictine D.O.M. Liquor
Just to clarify, this is for the mother, not the baby (or the father)! The idea is you drink it before breastfeeding. Unfortunately, Cindy is not a 'drinker' so it is quite a chore for her to drink even a couple of sips. Why DOM and not whisky or some other spirit or liquor? It seems those French Benedictine monks have done their marketing homework and discovered that the Chinese are suckers for 'herbal rememdies', which is basically how it is promoted in Malaysia. You are as likely to buy a bottle of DOM in a Chinese Medicinal shop as in a supermarket!

Verdict: ***** (2/5) Difficult to say if it really helps. As a result of drinking it, some nights have been better and some worse. In addition, Cindy doesn't feel too good the next day. Only the father seems to recommend this one ;-)


b. Gripe Water
A classic remedy for colic which we bought a while ago but haven't got around to trying yet. This is partly because of my Mother's testimony (see below).

Verdict: ***** (2/5) According to Chris's Mum, it was a very useful remedy when his sister was a baby, but once they revised the ingredients and removed the alcohol it never had the same effect!


c. Yu Yee Oil
9 out of 10 Malaysians swear by it. It is an oil that should be rubbed on the baby's tummy. The main ingredient is peppermint oil, but it contains other natural ingredients.

Verdict: ***** (4/5) This one really seems to be working for us. It has a perceivably calming effect on Hannah, and smells kind of medicinal. How does it work? Is it the smell? The tummy massage? According to the Chinese, it removes the 'fung' (wind) from the baby's body, in some mysterious way.


d. "Tiger in the Trunk"
This is a position for holding a baby that is supposed to relieve colic - at least according to our 'Baby Bible'! Chris is the only one who has tried it. It is not quite as difficult and unsteady as it appears, but just takes some practice.

Verdict: ***** (3/5) At first it seemed to be a miracle cure since Hannah stopped crying almost immediately. She also looks adorably content in this position. However, it only seemed to last as long as we held her in that position, so the limitations are rather obvious. Also, the last time Chris tried it, Hannah emptied the contents of her (thankfully) tiny tummy on the floor! Use with caution...


So that is the end of our review. Please share your experiences with us by clicking on "comments" below.

And finally, the serious note. When Hannah seemed to be suffering really badly with colic, we started doing some serious research. The best information we could find was on the NHS and BUPA websites. Interestingly, no-one claims to have a cure or even to fully understand the causes. But they do give some reassuring information and helpful tips. For example, breastfeeding mothers should avoid broccoli and apricots, among other things! Check the sites out for yourselves:

http://www.nhsdirect.nhs.uk/articles/article.aspx?articleId=106

http://hcd2.bupa.co.uk/fact_sheets/Mosby_factsheets/infant_colic.html 

A message from a grateful father

Sleep is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Hannah certainly thinks so, and as you can see she can achieve it in the most interesting of positions! Unfortunately, she can also achieve it at the most awkward of times, too. The result? She is wide awake just when you were hoping to sleep...

Yesterday I felt pretty awful. A previously rough night with Hannah had led to a sleep-deprived day. I even walked into the wrong classroom in my sleepy stupor! I had a hot and bothersome bus ride home after work, and to be perfectly honest the last thing I wanted to do was take over caring for Hannah. But praise God she behaved like an angel last night. She slept between 7 and 9pm and then again from 11pm to 3am and finally from 4 to 6:30am, with hardly a cry or a whimper in between. Even when I changed her nappy, she gave me contented looks. Thank you, Hannah.

So today I feel great! I can actually say I got a good night's sleep last night. More than ever, I truly appreciate the value of sleep. Yes, sleep is a wonderful thing. Now I realise that it is a gift from God. And I can't wait to get home and cuddle Hannah. Thank you, Lord.

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work."
(2 Corinthians 9:8, The Bible)
 

On behalf of Hannah: A Tribute To Her Creator

O LORD, you have searched me and you know me...

...You created my inmost being;

You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.



Taken from Psalm 139, The Bible.