Stronger

Since we are 30+ weeks in and I'm not sure if I will be able to work up the courage to have another child after we have SBC, I thought it would be nice, for posterity's sake, to write about how it's been, being pregnant  with SBC, whilst I am still pregnant with him.  

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Many people have asked what we are going to name SBC, and my standard response is "Andy Lau lor". These "many people" then assume that I am joking, and when I tell them "Okay, no, we're going to name him Andrew - so I can shorten it to Andy," they usually try to hide their looks of horror; but too late, being pregnant means my senses are in overdrive, and I also catch the words they have bitten back just in time: why would you be so cruel to your child?! 

For the record, I've always liked the name Andrew. It's also biblical, has a nice meaning (manly, according to Google), and I don't know any Andrews whom I dislike. It just so happens that Jon's surname is Lau. In fact, even before we conceived FBC, I'd broached the idea of naming him Andrew - but given the circumstances surrounding his conception, I eventually gave in to Jon's wish to name him Daniel. 

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Now that the end to this constant need to pee and being forced to sleep on my left side is in sight, I'm actually looking forward to SBC's arrival. I don't think it's that I didn't look forward to FBC's birth - having gone through this pregnancy with one or two friends who are expecting their first, I've looked back on my own first pregnancy and realised that it was just a rather emotionally trying time, and whatever anticipation or excitement I felt was clouded by a whole lot of other emotions. I think I was mostly concerned with getting through the days after Jon's second operation, and the nights he was working despite undergoing RT. It's not like each of his RT sessions was particularly long, or that they took place over a particularly long period of time - he didn't expect me to accompany him when he went for them either - but medical treatment, and being there for someone whilst they're undergoing it, isn't the most fun thing in the world, you know? Especially when it's your spouse. In sickness and in health. 

And it being my first pregnancy, I was always thinking and worrying about whether FBC would be born happy and healthy. It did seem particularly important in the circumstances though; as I (morbidly) told friends, if anything happened to Jon, at least there would be a baby 来做纪念, to be a remembrance. 

Which is why, before we embarked on having our second child, I told myself that I would be as chill as possible during my second pregnancy and enjoy it. Also, since #YOLO, why not just go for it and be the mother of Andy Lau?

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So of course, in my first trimester, I had to have some spotting the day before we went on holiday to Penang in early December. I wasn't particularly worried, but given that we would be flying somewhere, I thought it would be best to get it checked out - and of course, I had to choose the worst possible gynaecologist (henceforth, "random gynae", and all references to "gynae" are simply for ease of typing and should not be taken to refer to him) available to see me at the end of the working day at short notice. He informed me that I had a polyp, which he removed without truly seeking my consent (when you are lying on a doctor's table with your legs open it is difficult to say anything when said doctor tells you he is going to remove the polyp which he thinks is causing the spotting, AND THEN PROCEEDS TO DO IT), then told me I should prepare to miscarry because he was unable to see anything via the vaginal ultrasound, although I already tried to explain to him that I was quite sure I had ovulated later than usual that month and was hence probably earlier on in the pregnancy than I was, based on my last period.

I went to Penang, carried Daniel everywhere, and ordered laksa without hum. We went to Penang on a Friday, and before we came back to Singapore two days later, on a Sunday, there was no more spotting. Suffice to say, I never went back to random gynae again, although he suggested that I schedule a further appointment with him to monitor my hCG levels.

In retrospect, I'm not sure why I initially insisted on waiting to see my previous gynae from NUH. The appointment NUH gave me was for a date almost two months after I called (after seeing random gynae), and it was only after I spent most of the week after Christmas in bed or in the toilet throwing up and subsisting primarily on fishball noodles with no fishballs, only fishcake please, and my mother pointing out to me that I was getting very gaunt and was I sure I wanted to wait so long? that I finally agreed to find another gynae. Jon accused me of forum shopping after my first real scan (I was already 11 weeks by then), when I gleefully told him that I had been given the green light to continue running, amongst other things which had been taboo with my previous gynae (she was wonderful, and I felt dreadfully disloyal to her when I switched).

It has been good, though. Being pregnant with a toddler and a full-time job is not the most fun thing in the world either, but I think my current gynae and his cheerful, if slightly FOS outlook has been instrumental in helping me fulfill my promise to myself.

#YOLO, yo.

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With that, I wish to inform you that it is way past my bedtime and I am now more emo than I was before I started typing this post. In keeping with the #YOLO theme of this pregnancy, I actually kept a record of all the food it was worth throwing up during my first trimester and all the food which wasn't. I promise to share it another time when I am less emo and it is not so late.