STI: Baby, it was worth it

April 26, 2003
Baby, it was worth it
by Leong Ching

WE STARED at the purple lump, large as a Fuji apple, dangling gaily between our baby's legs as he emerged from a harrowing six-hour journey into the world.

'Are they meant to be this big?' I whispered to the Significant Other.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. 'How would I know?' he said.

Then he whispered softly: 'He's going to be a real man, no doubt about it.'

He named the baby Yung, for courage.

It has only been two years since I had my first baby, but I was stupid enough to have forgotten how painful the whole thing was.

'The second time is always easier,' said my mother, echoing what many other mothers had told me.

'Try it without the epidural,' suggested my doctor and, like a fool, I agreed.

It was the same reply I had given her two years ago, when she first suggested it. At the time I, at least, had the excuse that I did not know what to expect at birth. The poor doctor who administered my epidural had to be dragged in from a dinner party at 10 pm.

This time, I went through the same rigmarole again - trying to do with just the gas mask, and then having to ask for an epidural at the last minute. The doctor breezed in cheerfully and asked: 'Hello, hello, is this your first time?'

I took out the mask, opened my eyes and groaned.

'No, it's me again, Dr Kua,' I said recognising the doctor who had injected me two years ago.

'Ah, I see,' she said, business-like, and proceeded to wash her hands.

Before the magical elixir did its work, there were a few more giant contractions. After one particularly spectacular bout of screaming into the gas mask, I opened my eyes to see a familiar, kindly pair of eyes above an N95 face mask.

The nurse took a deep breath, flipped open her mask and grinned at me.

'Grace!' I said in delight, at seeing the nurse who delivered my first baby.

'Eh, mask back!' another nurse hissed at Grace, who retorted: 'I have to put it down so she knows it is me what!'

Because of the Sars outbreak, nurses were masked for infection control. But I was happy to see Grace, mask or not - and she was experienced enough to distract and reassure me.

'Our masks make us all breathe in carbon dioxide. You can have some oxygen!' she joked as she helped me put on my own gas mask.

A few hours later, I was in bed, dreaming of my new son and revelling in the fact that we were both born on the same day.

I SMS-ed the news to my mother and my friends.

'I knew it! I knew it!' said my mother, who had predicted that her grandson would be born on the same day as her daughter, despite the doctors' prediction that he would be two days later than I.

Another friend SMS-ed to say that her sister, whom I also knew, was in the same hospital, two rooms away, having given birth to a son on the same day.

We wandered into each other's rooms, giddy with post-natal pain and happiness. It was not an unmixed pleasure - both pairs of parents were worried for their babies.

My baby was in the intensive care unit. My doctor had said: 'Don't panic. He was in some distress, passed some faecal matter while inside the womb. Some of the water got into his lungs. He is now in ICU'.

I stared at her, half-hysterical and nearly said: 'Does he have a dry cough and fever?'

My friend meanwhile, found that her baby had jaundice of the G6PD variety, which meant an eight-day stretch of treatment.

Now, some two weeks later, both of us are home, enjoying our healthy babies. I did not think it possible but here I am again, holding another small scrap of life, watching him get drunk on milk and dose off while nursing.

He is a little man, complete in himself, but we still live in each other - he feeds off me, we sleep on the same bed and breathe the same air. His Daddy is already planning tennis lessons.

It is an everyday miracle so exhilarating that it is no wonder some parents get carried away.

The Significant Other said: 'Just think! We can experience this once every two years for the next 10 years at least!'

I thought about it for a moment. 'Well, no matter what, next time, I am just going to whack the epidural in, no more of this natural business.'