And TheBoy is Born...

This will be one long entry which will take days or more likely, weeks (more like months) to write.

28 July 2014

Hari Raya.

First day of Hari Raya is usually the mildest for me. We'd go to the mosque to perform our special Hari Raya prayers, go home for a short spell, then to my mom's, to my SIL's and finally to my FIL's. This year, thanks to TheHusband's NS-going nephew who had to report back to camp by 10pm, we ended the visiting much earlier, at around 8pm instead of the usual 10pm.

So, back home we went. After getting all items for work and school ready for the next day,  TheHusband and I turned in at around 11pm. As always, it was a restless sleep for me. In the final stages of pregnancy, all women complain of the same thing: no sleep position is ever comfortable. What I normally do after turning this way and that multiple times is to move to Alternative B: the sofa in the living room. When that fails to bring me my much-needed sleep, Alternative C is the extra bed in the kids' room. So, I migrated to the sofa and sleep came soon enough.

29 July 2014, 3.15am

I woke up feeling some pulsing sensations down below and with every pulse, out came some fluids. I thought it was heavy discharge. I touched my bottoms and it felt wet. Could this be blood, I thought. I switched on the light - I honestly do not know how I did it, considering that so much blood was coming out but I did.

There was blood on the throw which we used on the sofa. And as I stood up to look at the damage, more blood gushed out.

I called out for TheHusband, loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that it would cause an alarm. Thankfully,  he responded the second time. I remember being so calm at this stage. I told him, calmly, "I am now bleeding. KK's number is on the fridge. Can you call the hospital and find out what we are supposed to do? I am going to take a shower and if I have to go to the hospital, I'll call my parents later to tell them we are depositing H & F over there."

All the while, blood was running down my legs.

I grabbed the throw, revealing blood-soaked cushions underneath the throwp. I used the throw to stem the flow of the blood so that I would not be dripping blood on the way to the bathroom.

As I showered, more blood gushed out. TheHusband, following my instructions, took some pads (thank God I had not chucked them out when I found myself pregnant!) and the work pants that I had prepared. After the shower, I got dressed and sat down on some towels and made the call to my parents. The first call to the home number went unanswered and the second call to my sister's phone went unanswered too. I called the home number again and this time, my sister picked it up.

In the meantime, TheHusband started stripping the cushion off its covers and dumped the covers in the washing machine together with loads of VanishO2 (not paid for this product placement ad).

My sister informed my parents and according to her, my parents literally jumped out of bed. My mother has always been a bit worried about my pregnancies because of the difficulties I faced in my previous pregnancies. Receiving calls like this in the wee hours of the morning was something she feared.

My sister called again to say that my father would be fetching the girls. The girls woke up without much of a fuss and when my sister appeared at the door, they followed her. My parents, thinking that we were calling an ambulance (I did not; I was just planning on calling a taxi), then got us out of the house and took us to KK.

29 July 2014, 4.30am

At KK. We had to decide on a ward class. I wanted KT Tan to continue being my doctor so I initially opted for the lowest private class - B1. But even with B1, the admin office said that seeing that the baby was premature, I would expect to pay about $50,000 in hospital bills. No way jose. So, I settled for the cheapest subsidized class, C, and left the rest to Allah.

The doctors soon came and I was categorized in the high risk group. Besides being a confirmed placenta praevia major case, I was also a 'suspicious placenta accreta' patient. Placenta accreta is a condition (in my layman's terms) in which the uterus is stuck to the old C-section wounds. At birth, the placenta is supposed to come out on its own after the baby is born but in this case, the placenta had to be pried out and it might cause some heavy bleeding. I was told that if this is indeed placenta accreta, the way the delivery is approached would be very different. First, the incision will not be a horizontal incision at the bikini line. But it is a vertical incision starting from below the ribs. Prior to the birth, I would have to have a surgery to insert some catheter/balloon-thing from my thighs so as to stop the expected heavy bleeding during the birth. They may have to remove my womb during the surgery if they couldn't stop the bleeding and I may need a stay in ICU after the birth.

I wanted KT Tan to continue treating me and as my good luck (somewhat strange to call it this considering the circumstances) would have it, despite being a subsidised patient, KT Tan was in the team of doctors who treated me. As a high risk patient, not only do I have my preferred doctor, I also had a team of doctors and professors looking into my case.

30 July 2014

The first 2 days were filled with worries and fears. I had an MRI scan and 3 ultrasound scans, the second and third attended by the head of the OB/GYN department himself. I didn't have to worry about quality of care as a C-class patient.

Groups of doctors came to explain my situation to me. I got the idea of how grave a situation I was in. All of them warned me that death was a likely scenario. I had reached the point of leaving everything in the hands of God. If I were to die, it is not something that I could avoid. I wrote a simple will for my husband to execute in the event of my death. In Islam, I can will away up to 1/3 of my estate in whichever way I want but a minimum of 2/3 must be given away according to faraidh law. (If you are interested to know who will inherit your property, check out the faraidh calculator on MUIS' website.)

As my situation was still uncertain and I could be wheeled to the Operation Theatre at any time, I was not allowed any food. Throughout the pregnancy, I was eating 6 meals a day, except during Ramadhan of course when I miraculously could withstand the hunger. On the first day, I was only allowed to eat close to 7pm. Considering that my last meal was at 8pm the previous day, I was completely famished by then. Every doctor or nurse who came in after 4pm was asked the same question, "Can I eat now?" While I understood why I could not be given food, my stomach couldn't take it! Eventually, the combination of hunger plus missing my daughters and the worries I had made me break down in tears when a doctor asked me how I was. "Why are you crying?" she asked. "I'm so hungry," I answered. And I immediately got my dinner.

The next day was the same. I was not allowed any food. It was only around dinner time when they were sure that I was not going to bleed anymore did they allow me food. By that time, I was sure I could fast in Iceland, the land of 23 hours of daytime, if I had to.

All the scans also showed that my condition was 'mild' which in medicine-speak, means that it might be an accreta, it might not be one. But, I was told that I must stay at the hospital until I deliver. The plan was for me to deliver on 22 August, sometime after I hit Week 37. 3 weeks away. Oh. My. God. 3 weeks stuck in the hospital followed by at least 3 days post-maternity. Oh. My. God. This has to be the longest I ever stay in the hospital.

31 July

I was sent to the normal ward! Yippeeee! But I also had some trepidation as it was a C-class ward I was going to. My last experience in the C-class ward 8 years earlier was not pleasant. I was wheeled to Ward 34 and upon arrival, I was not greeted by any staff. Predictable, I thought. But, that was okay. I have already prepared myself for a care-less ward stay. I was just glad that I got a corner bed, Bed 16, not along the corridor and by the window. Behind me was a wall instead of a low partition separating each group of 6 beds. Some minutes later, Nurse Lisa came, introduced herself and asked me to give a urine sample. I did as was told and minded my own business at my bed.

It wasn't long before my impression of the C-class ward changed. During change of shifts, the nurses introduced themselves. The midwives made small talk with me and the nurses treated me like a person instead of just a digit. I actually felt comfortable there.

31 July to 7 August

The next week or so was a blur of excessive boredom. One boring day blended into the next and I learnt quite a few things about some groups of people which is of interest to some of my siblings who work in certain lines. Hur hur hur. I put my friendly self forward and got to know other long-stay patients. I did not want to get too close to those who just gave birth because they get discharged so quickly that it gets depressing  when one person you develop a liking for leaves.

Throughout my stay, I was constantly visited by groups of doctors and medical students seeking interviews. It was reassuring that my case was looked into by so many doctors. Sometime during my stay, I was told that my delivery date (after I begged them) was pushed forward to 15 August. Hooray! One less week!

In the meantime, us antenatal cases were moved to another part of Ward 34 and so I found myself in Bed 9. My fellow neighbours in Bed 7 and 8 were also long-stayers like me and our due date were just days apart. The nurses called us the 35-weekers.

8 August

2am. There was a flurry of activity in Bed 8 and my neighbour was rushed to the Operating Theatre. 6am. She came back looking somewhat weak with a slightly smaller stomach. She delivered!

I had a chat with her on the way to the toilet to take my wudhu' for the morning prayers. She was initially concerned that the date her C-section was planned for was not a particularly good date. I congratulated her cos now her son had chosen a good date to be delivered. 8/8 which is extremely prosperous sounding to Chinese.

I went to the toilet, passed urine and saw blood. It was nowhere near the gush that I experienced more than a week earlier. I wondered if I should inform the nurses about this. Hmm. I shall wait, I thought. I took my wudhu', performed my prayers (while sitting on the bed which was how I performed all my prayers throughout my hospital stay), sent a message to my husband and sisters. I still was wondering if I should tell the nurses.

It all happened quickly. I clicked 'send' on my phone and off my message to my sisters went. Then, I decided to press the call button. A nurse came. I told the nurse. And before I could send another message, the porter was there to send me to the Delivery Suite.

On the way there, I saw Dr K T Tan and Dr Sim standing by the Operating Theatre. A roomful of doctors came by and Dr Shiphali and Dr Ann Wright said I would be delivered that very day, as planned earlier. What time, I asked? Should I ask my husband to come here? By 10 o'clock, the latest. I was told.

I informed TheHusband and he got off his train at Buona Vista and took the train back to Novena. (Will he even reach the hospital on time?)

In between sending messages to so many people, I decided that I had time to read Surah Al Kahfi. I had a feeling that by the time I finish reading the surah, that was when things would really happen. I had to stop reading many times to attend to messages, doctors coming in to get my consent for various things, nurses getting me ready etc.

The nurse attending to me had no help. It was at this point that TheHusband had taken the train instead of a taxi. The OT is calling, I kept hearing people telling the nurse. TheHusband was nowhere around. I haven't finished reading Al-Kahf. Husband still hasn't reached. I finished reading Al-Kahf. The porter came to wheel me away.


8 August. 9am.

The one needle I feared the most is the needle for the anaesthetic to numb the lower part of the body for C-section. I don't know why I fear it so much. Yes, it's long. But, I could only feel a prick before the numbing sensation set in. I don't know how long the pre-surgery preparation was. Possibly half an hour? After the anaesthesia kicked in, I was ready for the surgery.

A short while after it started, then doctors congratulated me. "It's a boy! Congratulations!" But I didn't hear any cries. The anaesthetist who became my BFF during the surgery told me not to worry when I asked him about it. He said the baby doctor would settle it. Some time later, I heard cries and I felt relieved. A nurse came by showing me Ihsan. She brought Ihsan to my face so I could kiss him. Be a good Muslim, I whispered to him. And off he went.

----

With Huda and Farah, the arrival of the child was the climax of the story.

After that, it was just time to stitch up and go.

Unfortunately, with this surgery, it was like a scene from ER. I was given jabs after jabs and I heard doctors asking me to be given this medicine and that. I had three drip plugs on my arms and all three are active with various stuff poured into me. I could only feel jabs on my shoulder but I could not feel the jabs on my thighs.

I was feeling sleepy but my BFF did not allow me to sleep. He told me, you are losing a lot of blood. That was one of the things I was told might happen. They had 4 pints of blood on standby for me throughout my stay.

Later on, I would find out that I did not have placenta accreta and the loss of blood was due to something-I-still-cannot-comprehend. Hysterectomy would be an option but they could not do that as they realised, upon opening me up, my bladder was stuck to the womb.

I was beginning to feel really foggy at that point and I tried to stay alert because I am a kepoh by nature and I must know what was happening at all times.

At some point in time, the surgery ended.

I heard the doctors saying that I was going to the ICU. I asked my BFF and he confirmed that I was indeed going to ICU. Why, I asked? You lost a lot of blood. 1.2 litres of blood, he said. At that point, I didn't realise how much 1.2 litres of blood was. I thought we had many many litres of blood in us and 1.2 litres is not significant amount. I later learnt that a woman of about my height and weight has about 3.3 litres of blood. And in a surgery, a loss of 500ml of blood is considered a huge loss. And then, my mother put it in perspective. 1.2 litres of blood could fill one huge PET bottle. Oh.

8 August. 11.45am.

I was sent to the ICU and I was extremely foggy by then. I wanted to sleep but the nurses kept on slapping my face (gently) to wake me up. I had no control of my bottom half and was shivering uncontrollably. TheHusband came in but I was too drugged up to realise what he was saying. He showed me photos of Ihsan and I could only smile weakly at them. If I smiled at all. A couple of doctors came in and told me that the surgery went well. I tried so hard to focus and understand what they were saying but I was too drowsy to comprehend much. It was only a day later that I managed to piece together enough to understand how the surgery went.

TheHusband went off for his Friday prayers. When he came back later, he brought bad news. Ihsan was in NICU because he had breathing issues. Oh no no nooo.. I had the steroid jabs to strengthen his lungs. His lungs should be mature enough. We were just 2 days short of Week 36. He's not that premature, my mind screamed. But the after effects of the surgery meant that I only had enough energy to nod at TheHusband.

I spent the rest of the day and night sleeping and staring out of the window. The ICU has a pretty view. And in the glass reflection on the building's facade, I looked at cars going from one window pane to another. The view was hypnotic and I didn't even miss my mobile phone which had been my constant companion throughout my stay there.

9 August

I was less drowsy but still in much pain. I could barely sit up but I was glad when one plug drip after another was switched off and pulled out of my arm. In the evening, I was sent to the Post-Operative Area and the next morning, I was sent back to Ward 34.

10 August

Going back to Ward 34 was like going back home. Delivery Suite, ICU and POA were pleasant enough but Ward 34 with all the familiar nurses and patients was like home. It was heartwarming when the nurses and midwives stopped by my bed and said hello.

It was a Sunday and H & F had joined their cousins for Hari Raya visits. So TheHusband was my companion for the entire day.

12 noon. Afternoon visitation hours for NICU came.

Another thing that made me fearful of C-section is the pains of the first step. To go to NICU, I had to get out of bed and walk to the wheelchair. With help from TheHusband and a nurse, I managed to make those few steps to the wheelchair.

10 August, NICU

Ihsan.

There he was, attached to tubes and wires. My heart broke. But, I know that everything will be okay. Eventually. I was not allowed to carry him so I could only look at him and touch him. In some ways, I was grateful that I had experienced something similar with Huda so at least, there were areas that I could prepare myself for.

But still, I was a wreck. I was just so emotional; I felt so pained by all that he was going through.

12 August

About 10am, I received a call from NICU.

Earlier they had removed the breathing tube from Ihsan but in the morning, he had turned blue and his oxygen level was low. They did not understand why that happened so they wanted to do a spinal tap to rule out infections as well as a scan of his heart.

I was beside myself with grief. There I was, sobbing away as I sent messages to TheHusband and sisters.

I could not wait for TheHusband to come in the evening to take me to NICU and so I asked to be sent there at noon. As luck would have it, the scanning team was there and so I had the results immediately. I was given relatively better news. The problem was the foetal duct between the walls of his heart had not closed. In most infants, this duct would close on its own a few hours after birth. But for him, it was taking much longer.Ever an optimist, I was sure that the hole would close soon and therefore, my tears and incessant worries in the past 3 hours or so were completely unnecessary. Thank you, Allah.

18 August

Ihsan was discharged. Alhamdulillah.

Thus began my career as a mother of three.


(Psssst... finally finished writing this on October 23. Hm.)