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My son turns 2 month old and just a teeny bit of rant

Liam has just turned two month old, however his adjusted age is just shy of 10 day old :)

Here are pictures of me and Liam because the light was nice and we were both wearing white :)

Whenever we say that we do not have help (ie: confinement lady or a relative) with Liam, we’re always met with surprise, followed by mild sympathy. Honestly, don’t feel sorry for us as it’s a choice we made. And one we are glad we did.

We just knew very early on that having “help” will frustrate us more than anything. The last thing we needed was for someone to insist that I sleep in another room away from my baby just so I could “rest”. Or someone making comments about my parenting skills. Or someone doing something stupid to my baby because of some housewife’s tale.

No wonder so many new mothers who go through with traditional chinese confinement end up getting so stressed up. The stress I believe affect the milk supply of breastfeeding mothers too. Babies who lack maternal skin contact also tend to be colicky (contrary to belief, colic is not just about wind it means crying for no reason and baby lacking of motherly contact are fussy as hell). Lets not even start with the sheer ridiculousness of the confinement diet.

No drinking of plain water, anyone?

When Liam was in NICU, a relative told me that she thought my doctor was scamming us because another relative who was premature did not need to stay in NICU. I guess if my premature baby stopped breathing at home, this relative would be able to resuscitate him for me because obviously she knows better?

And then, there was someone who sent me an article about how babies lose 10% of oxygen while strapped in car seats. I suppose I should then risk my baby being flung out of car in the event of an accident then? Honestly, people!!!

What new parents need are encouragement, support and kind words. Fresh, healthy food. Heck, even unsolicited advice are fine as long as they are scientific, logical and beneficial. At the risk of sounding crass, yes, money is great too. Just don’t come and tell me not to do this or that cause I’d get wind and will suffer in 30 years.

Seriously, who doesn’t suffer from aches and pains and farts when they’re 60? Don’t be foolish can?

Anyway, enough of ranting. The past two months have been a heck of an experience but we wouldn’t have it any other way :)

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The story of our first born’s name.

We knew his name even since before he was conceived. It’s Liam.

Why Liam? Cause the husband and I really like Liam Neeson and Liam Gallagher. #truestory

When his godma, Jayna told me that Liam is defined as “P.I.M.P” on Urban Dictionary, the name officially stuck.

Then, we struggled for a bit with his middle name. First we weren’t sure if we even wanted a middle name for him because nothing stood out. The last thing we wanted was settling for some tepid middle name for the sake of having a middle name.

Eventually, we kind of decided on “Bruce” for his middle name. Why Bruce? Hello, Bruce Lee!? And Bruce Lee is chinese so I can say that it’s the oriental representation of Liam’s chinese genes.

After a while, I realised we were actually going to name our first born purely after celebrities. Gulp. Surely we could put more research into this? Hahaha.

So we put a halt on “Bruce” and decided to look at more names. We toyed with “Samson” for a while because it was almost my husband’s name according to my mother-in-law.

Unfortunately, I was put off by the tale of Samson and Delilah. In a nutshell, Samson lost his superhuman strength after losing his hair. Well, for those of you who know my husband, surely you’d understand why I’m not comfortable with naming our son Samson.

Then, we did the next best thing; going though A-Z of male baby names on the Internet. We arrived at the name “Colt”. I thought it sounded quite manly and it’s a one syllable word, which I like. So I googled for its meaning, “a young uncastrated male horse”.

I felt like the planets had aligned for us as Liam’s born in the year of the horse to a man who’s also born in the year of the horse – my husband. And Colt is also the name of a gun so of course it’s naturally very badass. Lets not even discount the definitions on Urban Dictionary, hahaha.

# – My two horses.

So yeah, with a bit of Google magic, some love for celebrities and Urban Dictionary, we finally settled on naming our son, Liam Colt Davies.

And yes, Liam’s home :)

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I have popped and this is how it went down.

Some of you might know, that I have given birth to our baby boy. His due date was supposed to be 22 September, but he decided to pop out at 32 week 3 day gestation, just before the month of July ended. In a nutshell, that’s too many weeks too early.

On 30 July 2014, my water broke at 5.30pm. I had the classic scene – a gush of water and some blood splashing onto my feet, just like in the movies. Thank goodness my husband was at home so he sent me straight to the hospital where I was immediately admitted to the delivery suite.

I was 1cm dilated by then, but I was feeling pretty normal physically. I was bleeding too but I wasn’t in pain. The husband and I hung out in the room chatting and surfing the Internet. Even got hubs to get me Mcdonalds for supper. After supper, I basically watched movies till wee hours in the morning.

Truth was, we were both effing scared and were just trying to keep the topic of delivering a baby off each other’s mind.

And then, it began.

And I am not shitting you, my contractions began right after I finished watching “What to Expect when You’re Expecting” on Fox channel. They started out like really painful menstrual cramps and got more painful as hours passed. I mean, I had semi-passed out from menstrual cramps before, but these, these were a whole new world of pain.

By 9am on 31 July 2014, I was about 3cm and my midwife told me if I wanted any pain relief or epidural this would be the time. I said no and regretted almost immediately after.

By the time I was 6cm dilated at around 11am, I was wailing like a banshee in a bathtub filled with holy water and begging for epidural. “JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!!”

Alas, it was too late for an epidural. My only option was to go through with it, there’s no turning back. My only respite was the laughing gas (I think?) that I sucked, and sucked and sucked and sucked. Why call it laughing gas when I wasn’t laughing, gawddamnit!

# – Nobody could pry that gas away from me.

I remember at some point, the doctor calling out that I was 10cm dilated and I was prepped and then asked to push like I was pushing poop out whenever a contraction kicked in.

I also remember screaming about wanting to vomit, and someone shoving a kidney dish next to my face but thankfully I didn’t hurl.

Baby was out after 5 pushes according to the husband. I shall spare you the details of the birth. Anyway, he came into this world at 1.52pm on 31 July 2014. My contractions started at 5.30am and he came out at about 2pm, making the labour process a reasonable 8 hours plus.

And despite the holy mother trucking pain, I still think I had a very good labour; the only bleep being that it happened way too soon. My doctor was excellent, calm and clear with her instructions (so I managed to give birth without attending any antenatal class haha). My midwives were kind, understanding and supportive.

Props to the hubs especially, he was my rock during the labour. I can honestly say I don’t think I could do it trauma-free if he weren’t present. He also took pictures of everything, and I mean, everything, should I’m ever inclined to relive the experience.

When my doctor pulled him out and plopped him onto my chest, my first feeling at seeing him for the first time was relief.

Relieved that he’s out, and relieved that he’s not as small as I had imagined he would be. Still a meagre 1.9kg but in all considerations, pretty healthy for a premature baby his age.

# – Baby’s paediatrician working on him right after I birthed him.

Am glad my doc gave me the steroid jabs to strengthen his lungs when my mucus plug fell out 20 days prior.

To date, our baby has been in Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for the past 11 days. And, he’s doing exceedingly well.

# – Our very first family portrait – about 8 hours after his birth.

Sure, he’s lost about 200 grams of water weight but he’s slowly climbing up to 1.8kg. He’s off CPAP by 3rd day and by the 4th day he was well enough to undergo kangaroo care (skin to skin therapy or as we call it – huggies time) with us. We visit him twice everyday for kangaroo care.

# – 1 day old, with daddy. Seeing pictures of him with wires and that thingy on his nose still gives me the emo.

# – 5 day old. He’s progressed so quickly and looking so good :)

# – 6 day old. What a poser!! He’s developed mild jaundice by now, can see a little yellow on his face.

I’ve been pumping milk around the clock because mother’s milk is really important to a premature baby. It’s quite magical that a woman’s body is able to customise milk to suit exactly what her baby needs. His jaundice has subsided and he’s up to 36mls per feed without vomitting (that’s like full term baby portion!).

# – Nomming his little piggies. He’s 8 days old here.

His doctor also has allowed me to breastfeed him directly, and he sucks like a champion. His sucking sounds are so loud, it’s embarrassing!

# – 9 day old. Hypnotising us with his eyes when we’re about to leave NICU. He does that everytime! We put him back on his bed and he would open his eyes and stare at us like that.

Yesterday doc even said that if all goes well, he should be moving to a normal nursery soon. I was so happy, I almost cried.

I have many goals in life, many involving a dozen slightly different versions of me hanging out by a body of water in very little clothings, but I can say with certainty now that my real current goal in life is really to fatten my baby up with my boob food. I am so pumped!!!!

p/s: All those giving birth scenes in movies…LIES. ALL LIES. How about multiplying the intensity by about a million, then we’re talking!

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