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Birth story of little man

I still vividly remember that it was Sunday morning 0200hrs. Hubby and I were watching some HK drama before it happened. After the late-night show, we went to sleep. However, I could not sleep. It has been like that for a while, ever since I got into the 30th week of pregnancy. While I was turning and tossing, I suddenly felt a warm gush of liquid coming out from between my legs. I jumped (according to Hubby) out of bed, ran to the bathroom and saw this pinkish liquid flowing out non-stop. It was week 38.

Being a mother is one of the hardest thing in life I have experienced. And I thought I was well-prepared.

I am the eldest in my family. My youngest sibling is 12 years apart from me. I took care of her like she was my own ever since she was born. My parents were working hard then, and many times I am her sole care-giver. Hence, how hard can it be to take care of a baby?

I was very wrong. My 16-hour delivery process traumatised me. From Sunday 0200hrs till the rest of the day, I was not able to eat or drink due to epdiural. I kept vomitting for that 16 hours, non-stop. My only console is that Hubby was right beside throughout, holding the vomit pan for me. Yet thanks to epidural, I was not in great pain. I experienced contractions before I was given epidural, hence I know how bad the pain is.

The delivery left me weak, tired and very very hungry. At one point of the delivery, I called to my mother crying because I was too hungry. When my little man came out, the nurse asked if I wanted to hold him. I rejected. I was not in the right state, physically and emotionally then. This is probably one of my greatest regret. Having said that, I would probably make that same decision should the entire scenario replay.

Pain set in right after the delivery. I cannot stop tearing when the nurses cleaned me up and brought me to the ward. My family was there waiting for me. I spoke to them as per normal, but still I couldn’t stop tearing. When they left, Hubby went to sleep, and I was all alone on the bed, I started crying softly to myself. I do not know why. Maybe it’s the pain. Maybe I am really hungry. That’s when I realised post-natal depression has sinked in. I eventually got better after a good breakfast the next day, and great family and Hubby support.

Despite what others may say, my appreciation for my little man does not come in from Day 1 (the day he was born). And I thought I was a bad mother. However, after sharing with some friends who are also mothers themselves, I understand that I am not the only one who went through this emotional rollarcoaster. Gradually, I settled into my role of being a Mama, loving and caring for this little being who changed my life.

Now I can proudly declare that I love my little man.

My love for him surpasses many things, things I never thought I can sacrifice.

So if you are reading this, my little 宝贝, Mama loves you very very much. (So does Papa.)

The beginning

It is not the beginning of the beautiful life of my little man, that sparks the start of this journal. Even though I would very much like to do so, somehow I did not get started until now. (Perhaps due to the trauma I went through.)

I finally get started when I became a SAHM (Stay-At-Home Mama) in March 2014. This decision was made the 4th time little man was hospitalised. Again.

Little man was arranged to be in infantcare after I went back to work when he was 6 months old. Ever since, he has been constantly sick (almost every other week). He has sensitive airways according to the pediatrician, hence a simple cough can very easily develop into broncholitis, and then pneumonia. Both pediatricians whom we often go to, advised us on separate occasions to take him out of infantcare (IFC) if he keeps getting seriously sick. The 3rd time when he was hospitalised, I begged my mother to help me take care of him. She only agree to take leave from her work for 3 months, saying these 3 months will help him build his immunity. Hence, he was taken out of IFC for that 3 months. And he was never sick throughout.

That December in 2013, we put him back in IFC again, hoping he will turn out fine. Turned out, he is not fine. He was hospitalised for the 4th time in his less-than-1.5 yrs life, 2nd time due to pneumonia.

I was devestated.

Once again, I begged my mother to leave her work for good and help me care for little man. Her work requires her to stand and labour without rest for long period of time. It has taken a toil on her health. I told her that I provide her with more than what she is earning now. But she rejected again.

With such a situation, hard decisions have to be made. That week in the hospital, Hubby and I worked through our options and decided that I leave my job to care for our little man full-time. It was not an easy decision. But I guess, a right one. Now, a month into my new SAHM job, I have seen little man learn and grow so much. Hubby and I agree that he could not have learnt all these if he was still in IFC. Blessing in disguised indeed.

This journal hopes to be a memorance of our journey together from now on. Me, Hubby and little man.

When we look back one day, we will see how much we have grown as parents, with little man meeting and exceeding all his milestones.

When we look back one day, we will see how strong we were, overcoming all the obstacles we face together.

When we look back one day, we will look back with a smile.


“When man fulfills his part,
God will do the rest.”

— Father Jean-pierre De Caussade

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