I am feeling kinda emotional today, and I believe the bout of  hormones isn’t exactly helping.

I was counting down to 12 midnight last night, and it was just a sense of peace that washed over me when 2nd December finally arrived. I thought how a “Happy birthday” just isn’t quite enough, yet anything else to be said isn’t quite enough either.

Happy birthday my precious, precious daughter, always a baby in my eyes, a beautiful young lady who has so much love surrounding her, and is on her path to conquer the world.

The authentic little nonya.

In my facebook status, was my wish for her.

3 years ago today, I cursed thru the contraction pains & had my you-know-where snipped & sew up (I hope Dr Chua did a good job!) just so this little spawn could burrow her way out to save the world. Happy 3rd birthday my loveliest Minibean. My wish for you, like every other year, is that you will grow up to love the world fearlessly, and yet be safe from the pains it is capable of giving you.

I didn’t manage to add in my “bonus” wish this year – I am silently praying she wouldn’t grow up to be a brat!

Compassion Minibean, compassion.

***

Feeling slightly emotional (in the good way, I might add), I sat through the pictures that I never got down to posting up, and then I got this warm and fuzzy feeling within until my eyes moist moist.

And of course, a list of people I am thankful for came into the thoughts, and then the eyes got moisterer and moisturer. And I miss them.

And I am grateful that they are the very ones who had made sure Minibean has never been shortchanged of love and affections since she was born.

I mean, seriously, I am surprised someone like myself can pop something so chirpy, happy, smart, cute, determination-filled and wonderbulously strong. Albeit a tad too manja, stubborn and hiao which obviously aren’t from me.

The evening on 1st December when I had liquid running down my thighs as I got up from the bed naked (I always have one thing I didn’t dare to confess. It happened right after my brr brr served me, I wonder if….. it was induced? HAHAHA), and when my silly SMSes went out asking “Uhm, so when water broke, is like how one ah?“, I realised most people out there were shocked into motions (“CAN YOU GO TO HOSPITAL NOW? OMG!”) more than giving me helpful replies, which hey, can’t be faulted cos everyone had contractions so no experience!

I always think my labour story was one that was rather hilarious, and fits aptly into the drama theme of my life.

I ordered McDee’s and mopped the floor, washed my hair thereafter, wondering if my waterbag leaked/broke or something, and continued on chatting on MSN with a pensive “Hmm, I think my waterbag just broke?” to Sherry.

We went on chatting for another couple of hours.

After 4 hours, I finally lugged my bag (and the reason why is because I wanted to avoid midnight surcharge), and walked out to the mainroad to flag a cab to head to hospital reluctantly.

Cos if it was a false alarm, it is gonna be superbly embarrassing and the cost wasn’t gonna be friendly either.

I think the cab driver was okay until I was telling someone on the phone my water broke and I was on my way to the hospital and he straightened his back.

I was supposed to be at the A & E, but I blurblur-ly walked up to the labour ward to check-in, like I would at a hotel, which the nurse asked me in a voice an octave higher why I didn’t go A & E.

I was sheepish and asked should I head down to A & E at that instance instead (I mean, I thought must follow some kind of protocol), and her eyes got bigger and asked me to sit down to wait instead.

Before I knew it I was all hooked up, and a house doctor (dammit, a male geek) came in to check on me.

I refused to open my legs cos damn shy can?!

So when I finally did, I gelled my knees together and he had to do the not very courteous thingy to part my knees so he could place one elbow on one of them, and not-so-gently (I pity his girlfriend!!) prodded me with his fingers with his entire body weight pressing down.

OOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHH.

1cm dilation, I was told. And my water did break. Leaked, more like it.

So it was gonna be a long wait. Apparently the graph showed I was having contractions but I just didn’t feel it.

I asked if I could go out for supper and he looked at me in disbelief to say a firm no.

When my friends were at the hospital, I removed all the straps I was hooked up with, so I could sneak out. I even asked if they wanna go Fong Seng for supper.

Couple of hours later, it was still only 2cm dilated, which is considered slow cos it is supposed to go 1cm per hour till fully dilated.

I was given a shot up my butt so I could clear every poo I had.

It was quite strange waiting for the moment. Like, other days you go on wondering when THE MOMENT will come, and then now, you have an affirmative timeline that the moment of torture will be within the next 24 hours, or 72 if I was unlucky.

Then. Waited.

Then. Phone call.

Then I could feel the naggy ache coming in but still bearable.

Then got more uncomfortable after phone call ended.

6ish, almost 7. Tried to sleep but too uncomfortable so I kept tossing.

Doctor came in to administer antibiotic cos of the water breaking.

Then the pain was there.

I asked him how long more it was gonna be, but a check showed I was only 3cm dilated. I asked of the pain, and he asked on a scale of 1 – 10, how painful it was.

“Pain leh, later will be very painful or not? How painful is the pain?”

I said I wouldn’t know what is 10 cos hadn’t been there yet. He said if I was at 10, I probably wouldn’t be joking nor bantering with him.

So I believe, he was then off shift.

Impeccable timing.

I needed to pee, but couldn’t really walk, so a nurse had to bring in the bed pan, but I ended up staring at her and joked I have psychological barrier despite a heavy bladder. It took some waiting and a long process of getting the elephant in the form of me onto the bedpan.

Finally relieved. I was still sane enough to ask to be wiped clean.

The moment she left the room, a sharp, excruciating pain set in and I thought I was going to die.

Seriously with her walking out less than 5 minutes ago, I was thinking she might think I was just over-reacting, so I took a wait of a few seconds before I finally couldn’t take it and reached for the damn button.

By then I was coldsweating and moaning (or so they claim), and when she came in, I just loudly wailed, “VERY PAIN!”

Of course, the normal reaction of anyone would be “AI YAH, that’s what all of them say, just grit your teeth and bear with it, who ask you don’t want epidural, must be just those whiney ones.”

Of course they won’t say it out lah.

Then it was the “I FEEL LIKE SHITTING! I WANT TO SHIT” that got her attention that she did a little check.

It was then kinda hilarious when she passed the gas mask for me to breathe with, and a look of panic wiped over her face. She rushed to the door and I could hear a loud whisper as she got her colleague to page for Dr Chua urgently.

Some replies I didn’t get, but I remember her replying something along the time that “The last check was moments ago and she was only 3cm!” in a justified manner, cos I think her colleague was kinda asking her why they didn’t monitor my progress.

UH OH. I thought to myself.

Because of the pain that was so excruciating, and the mask didn’t quite help, and the nurse was nowhere near me to help, I got so overwhelmed by the pain that holding the mask was the last thing on my mind.

I threw it over my head against the head board.

Then the railings to the bed became my support. I was doing pull ups with it whenever the contractions set in.

I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then she came over and taught me how to use the mask. Okay, fine, it did help a little.

Life saver, somewhat.

I heard the anxious rattlings from the metals, as she put on her gloves to lay them out on the table. Her movements were fast, almost in a panic.

She had this annoying tone, as if trying to be calm in her panic, “Don’t worry, breathe in, breathe out, very good Ting, you are doing a good job. Yes, very good.” x 100 when she wasn’t even looking at me.

Repeat sentence exactly again.

To the point, I looked over to Vamp and gave a “HUH? WTF” face, before rolling my eyes and continued on with the gas-mask, pull up by the railings routine.

Oh, add in the moans and urnggghhhhs as well.

I think it was this point that there were phone calls came in?

Then I said loudly, “I want to shit!!! Shit coming out!”

The nurse “assured”, “Oh, it is like that one, it is the baby coming out, but you cannot push cos doctor not here yet, don’t push!!”

It was then I kinda “WHAT?! I thought just now that doctor told me long way to go, at least another 7 hours?!”

So I was asked to lie on my side and GIAP my legs.

At one point I very frustrated already, I just un-giap my legs, and said I want to shit, and I don’t care!!!!

She then panicked and came over to tell me cannnnnnnnotttttttttttt push!! Prompted her to check with her colleague why the doctor not there yet cos I was paikia-ly gonna push already.

I was delirious from the pain yet when sometimes I do get a break from the contractions, I could just resume and just breathe normally and talk normally before the next wave overwhelmed me for me to reach for the railings to yank, pull and scratch.

Also too late to get epidural. Funny thing was, never during that phase of pain I asked or even thought about epidural.

Finally at 7.40ish, Dr Chua finally arrived.

I was too shy to open my legs and she said, “Your baby cannot come out if you don’t open your legs!”

It was push number 1. I was told I wasn’t really pushing.

Push number 2, I was told I have to push harder. “If you don’t push your baby cannot come out also!”

Push number 3, I pushed a little while and then with the team of ladies (my doctor, and 2 midwives) all set for it, I suddenly held up my palm and stopped everyone in their tracks!

“Wait wait wait!” I said with a perfect sober face, almost impeccable comic timing.

I giggled and said, “I pulled my back! Next one! Wait for next one okay! Ouch ouch pain!”

Everyone straightened their backs to laugh a little.

“Okay okay, come already!“, I exclaimed when the next wave of contractions set in.

And tadang.

Say hello to Charissa Brianne Chong, aka Minibean.

The contractions were so bad that I was snipped at my you-know-where and I didn’t even feel it cut up by the scissors.

The bloody little mess that came out fresh from my vijayjay!

The moment I was done, the doctor gave a jab down there, and started sewing.

I am not sure if it the local anaesthesia kicked in, but I FELT THE FIRST NEEDLE GOING INTO MY SKIN AND THE THREAD LAH!

I jerked up and nearly kicked my doctor in the face by reflex.

I joked, “that was worse than giving birth itself! Slowly, slowly, take your time. Needs workmanship one.”

She waited for a few more seconds before she started sewing and thankfully I didn’t feel any of that thereafter.

I had phone calls that came in and I answered to say “Hi, my doctor sewing me up now, I call you back later okay?”

The aftermath:

Probably still very much an experience etched in my memories, and in all honesty, it wasn’t that painful though when the pain set in I was probably too delirious.

Nonetheless, what happens after that was, I have an awesome bundle of joy, who turns out to be nothing short of amazing.

So as a bonus, here’s a picture of my titties to commerate the occasion.

Happy birthday, Minibean!

Most. Beautiful. Moment. Ever.

May the blessings you have since you were borned continued throughout your life, and just like your name, your life will always be filled with grace, and you will be a strong lady (don’t make the boys cry though. Actually, okay, go ahead, just make sure they don’t make you cry!).

And like your chinese name, you will always have the wisdom to discern rights from wrongs, and should there be darkness in your life, a new dawn awaits and it will be lit by light. The sparkle, yes, that cheerful, innocent sparkle in your eyes, don’t let anyone, ever diminish that.

We love you, a lot, a lot.