Red tide.

This was supposed to be a private post but I feel like I need to share it because it’s important. Initially I try to post only positive things about my pregnancy but the truth is, the thought that the worst could happen is always at the back of my head.

I don’t mean to say I am incapacitated by a constant fear for the worst but I feel like somehow publicly acknowledging that I have problems with my first pregnancy, along with the great things about it (better hair, better skin, better moods, etc) that I will be able to show a more realistic situation.

When I was about to hit the 3 month mark, something really scary happened, which I have written in length below. I am close to 6 months pregnant now and everyday I am thankful that I could feel every kick and movement from my baby.


It was 9 March 2014, 1pm. As soon as I looked down, my body went cold. Staring back at me was what used to be my pristine white panties, now stained with brownish, reddish stains.

I called out for Gareth, he rushed into our bathroom. I could see his face crumbled upon seeing what I had just seen.

We had been anticipating the end of the week as it marked the beginning of my 12-week pregnancy – the end of my 1st trimester. This was supposed to be the safe time to announce one’s pregnancy. We were so excited to finally be able to openly share our good news. We planned to make the announcement on Gareth’s birthday.

Suddenly, all our plans seemed a million years away. I was so confused. I felt numb but at the same time, I had to keep telling myself that this is common and it happens to many people.

It’s common, it’s common, it’s common…and yet, I felt numb. I told G we had to go to the hospital.

It was a Sunday and the O&G section had its shutters down. I was disappointed as I thought hospitals were supposed to operate 24/7. We decided to head to the emergency room instead.

There was quite a crowd. “I am pregnant and I am bleeding”, I told the young man behind the counter. I was whisked to the back of the emergency room almost immediately.

They gave me a basic check-up and then they told me my obgyn was on the way. She arrived from home 1/2 hour later.

She started giving me an ultrasound. As soon as I saw the image on the screen – the outline of a fetus with a tiny beating heart and fingers, tears started welling up in my eye. I dreaded what my doctor was going to tell me next – that our baby would start leaving my body.

Instead, she said the baby looked great, and I had no clots around my uterus which was a good sign. She told me I am suffering from a condition called “threatened miscarriage” and nobody, not even doctors know exactly why it happens. What she can do is give me some progesterones and a lot of rest. I was due to see her in another week.

Husband and I made jokes about how his Welsh blood would make the baby extra strong and that he or she would stick all the way to September (my due date).

It’s been two days since the terrible day. I am still spotting but I’ve never soaked through one sanitary pad per day, which to me is really good. In fact, I’ve never had any unusual cramp.

A moment ago though, while doing the number 2, I painlessly passed the largest lump of dark blood clot since I started spotting a couple of days ago. It’s the sized of a dried sliced apricot. This episode shook me a little.

We decided against going to the emergency, because I am not in pain and honestly there is nothing I can do if my body decides to purge it. We are just hoping for the best.


A week after I wrote the above, I stopped bleeding. Doc gave me another scan and confirmed everything was okay. We went on to announce the pregnancy and I even went clubbing at Velvet (hah, don’t know how to die right?).

Since, my confidence about this pregnancy increased daily. Everytime I looked down onto my panties and saw nothing, I’d say a little atheist prayer.

A couple of months passed and a few days ago, it happened again. Spots of blood on my panties and in the toilet. Sigh.

That dreadful feeling came back, the questions and the constant googling about losses at this advanced stage. In the end I decided that I need to calm my shit down. We didn’t even go to the emergency room, I have done enough reading to know that as long as I’m not gushing blood and not having severe cramps being at the emergency room won’t help.

Thankfully, the spotting has reduced significantly. I am hoping it’s just a pattern – something that happens to me as I enter a new trimester. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of keeping me humble. It sure is effective.

First bump!

I’m officially 18 weeks today. 2 more weeks to being 5 months pregnant. My bump is at the most awkward stage now, where I look like I had a really heavy meal rather than being pregnant.

# – Picture taken last week – baby baby or food baby?

Not that I’m complaining, I’m actually crossing my fingers in hopes that I don’t get too big.

That said, I do slather my boobs and belly with pure organic coconut oil every night just in case I balloon to a point of no return. Must keep them skin supple.

Thank goodness for my penchant for loose fitting clothes, I haven’t bought a single maternity clothing.

This jumpsuit for instance, bought some 3 or 4 years ago actually fits me better now. It used to give me the dreaded camel toe but it drapes perfectly now. So weird!

# – The jumpsuit.

Yes I am wearing 4 inch stilettos but I do watch where I walk hehe.

By the way, any mummy reader here that’s consumed their own placenta after childbirth? Love to hear your thoughts!

Do unto others as you would have them do to you – the parenting edition.

I was just going to post this on FB but felt it’s a bit too long. So here we go…


Since finding out that we’re going to become parents ourselves, I have begun to realise, more than ever, how important it is to work on my personal attitude, my perspective towards life, my views of other people and my words.

It is important because I realise that whatever I do or say will inevitably affect my children.

If I were negative, they will grow up to be negative. If I had no manners, they will grow up with no manners. If I were lazy, they will become lazy. If I had no opinions, they will become spineless. If I continued cussing, they will grow up cussing a lot. If I made life decisions without researching and studying, they too will become hasty and stupid with their decisions in life. If I lived a mediocre life, I sure as hell shouldn’t expect them to miraculously become the creme de la creme of society. If I lived a life of blaming others, they will blame me in return.

Giving birth is not noble, it doesn’t take a genius to get knocked up and push a baby out.

A child does not choose to be born, you force them into this world and thus you willingly shoulder the burden of raising them. Don’t act like you did them a favour.

And that’s why, children owe parents nothing. Not time, not service and certainly not money.

Whatever that children give to their parents when they’re old are given out of love, not because they owe the parents anything. So ask yourself, have you raised your children with love?

Have you given them the tools to be independent adults with financial knowledge before expecting a monthly allowance? Have you given them the positivity, support and encouragement before demanding them to spend time with you? Have you instilled in them the importance of loyalty before demanding the same from them? Have you politely conversed with them before getting upset with them for speaking rudely to you?

Oh, you worked hard to pay for your kids’ toys and school? Well done, you.


Some parents wonder why their children dislike being with them. Well, I wonder whether these parents have reflected on themselves?

Have you been a nice, positive person that doesn’t zap off someone’s energy? Have you been kind and encouraging? Have you been emotionally supportive? Have you been polite?

A friend told me she mentioned to her parents that she got a raise, cause she wanted to share her good news. Instead of being proud and happy for her daughter, her parents told her she could now give them more money. And they wonder why the daughter doesn’t want to talk to them much.

A mother complains that her son in her 20s speaks really rudely to her. I told her to be patient, until I saw for myself how she spoke to that son and her other children. Well, lets just say children take after their parents.

I don’t expect our kids to take care of us when we’re old and frail but if they do, I sure hope it’s out of love, enjoyment and appreciation. Not because they think they owe me their lives.