Melting-Pot-Recap Part I

I've decided that the best way to deal with my 3-month-blogging-absence is by making a Serial-Melting-Pot-Recap.

What IS that?
Read on...

The Brand New Baby & His Brand New Parents

Mikhail was born in Ampang Puteri Specialist Hospital. A hospital that believed in the incomparable goodness of breastfeeding, the preciousness of bonding and thus, the necessity for 'rooming-in'.

This essentially means that the baby does not sleep with other babies in the nursery, but sleeps in his little rolly-cot by the side of his mommy's bed.
I was fortunate enough to be able to get a roomy room with a sofa-bed so Wan (the brand new Daddy) slept with us. And I'm still thanking my lucky stars for that.

After 9 hours of active labour and an emergency c-section, I was in pain and under the influence of lots of drugs. All I could do was breast-feed my son, and even that was a bit tough at first (as most mothers can tell you, breastfeeding is NOT as natural as people think it is, but practice makes perfect).

So, Wan was a lifesaver.
Everytime Mikhail let out a 'peep', his Daddy would jump out of the sofabed, get him out of his cot and lay him gently in my arms to be fed. And since he was a newborn, this occured nearly every hour.

Wan also had to clean him up everytime he pooped. And since he was a newborn, this occured nearly every time he nursed, which, of course, is every hour.

Every morning at 7 am, the nurse would come in to roll Mikhail into the nursery for his bath and for the doctor to check him out. This would be the time Wan would eagerly grab for a couple of hours of sleep. It should also be the time for ME to get some sleep but I couldn't because I would be sitting-up in my bed, waiting for Mikhail to come back.

Mikhail was a sight to behold.
I couldn't believe he came from my tummy.
It made it harder to believe because I missed the chance of seeing him come out, so it felt rather surreal somehow.
I'd stare at him sleeping next to me and scrutinise his every feature.
When he yawned, I smiled, when he sneezed, I smiled, when he blinked, I smiled.
I was too weak to hold him all of the time but Wan made up for that.

He'd watch tv with Mikhail curled up in his arms, or greet visitors with Mikhail snuggled in his lap.
Father and son did a lot of bonding those first few days in the hospital.

As for me, right after I was wheeled into the room, the nurses gave me all sorts of instructions. They taught me how to use the morphine drip, told me that I needed to get up and walk as soon as possible to get the blood circulation going AND ... brace yourself, this is kinda gross... they told me that I could only drink and NOT eat UNLESS... I passed wind.

Yep. I had to fart before I could eat.
Every few hours, a nurse would walk into my room and ask me the same question "Puan, dah kentut ke belum?"
EVEN when I had visitors!
It was hilarious if it were not humiliating.

Eventually, I got tired of the humiliation and willed myself to... you know... do what they wanted me to do. Till now I'm not really sure if I actually did, but at that time, I told Wan I did and what did my darling husband do? Rush out of the room to the nurses station and announced to all and sundry that his wife had u-know-what.

And finally, they gave me some food.

Apparently, the medical reason for this weirdness is that they need to make sure my usus was in working condition before they could allow food to pass through it, thus the passing-of-wind was the ultimate test.

There. I hope you all had a good laugh.

Mighty-Morphine-Power...

I know a lot of people who went through surgery and told me that the best thing about it was their access to the morphine drip. 'A legitimate drug addiction high', they said. Makes one feel on cloud 9, bla bla bla.

Well guess what, I had the morphine drip next to me, the trigger near my hand... and I forgot all about it.
Never used it, not even ONCE.

Why why WHY did the nurses have to brief me on it while I was still groggy??
When I was discharged, the nurse looked at the drip and said "Eh, penuh lagi? You tak guna morphine ker?" and I just gawped.
I forgot I had it!
Damn.
There goes my chance at experiencing a drug-high.

The Visitors

We had lots of visitors, which is not unusual, being firstborns ourselves and having welcomed our own firstborn. For the first few days, I could barely recall who came, but eventually, I started to enjoy the visitors and see them gush and coo over my baby.

We had family, neighbours, officemates, friends... it was wonderful to see everyone. Linda & Izreen, with newborns of their own, Amirah, expecting her 2nd, Putri the swinging singleton, Mak Ndak, Mak Uda, Mak Ah, can't possibly list 'em all.

Thanks to everyone for visiting, and for the lovely lovely gifts.

Special thanks to Nadia, who was 9 months pregnant at the time, for coming to visit even though she was as huge as a whale (hehehe, sorry dear, couldn't resist).

The only thing I found awkward about having visitors, was when I had to nurse Mikhail. I'm a bit of a private person and was not keen on flashing my udders - whoops, I mean breasts - to all and sundry.

Some people were sensitive to my discomfort and discreetly moved to the other end of the room or left for a cup of coffee. Some were so dense that they actually came and stood by my bed to watch (what am I? A special on the National Geographic channel?).

Thankfully, Wan took charge and either diplomatically invited them downstairs to the cafe for a snack, or pulled the curtain or draped a large shawl over me.

Word of advice to visitors of new mommies : Not all mommies are comfortable with nursing in front of an audience ya.

Going Home

After 5 days of being cooped up in a hospital room, I couldn't wait to go home and introduce my baby to his home. I couldn't wait to go home and sleep in my own comfy bed (the ONLY good thing about hospital beds is that it has a remote control that allows you to recline as you please, other than that, it sucks).

So the day finally came and I excitedly dressed Mikhail in his going-home-clothes. I packed my bags and we all took pictures.

It took awhile for the bills to be paid, the papers to be sorted etc but FINALLY, I got a wheelchair ride with my baby and we were getting into the car and heading home.

Mikhail had quite a greeting.
My mom was waiting at the door with a tray filled with a bowl of sugar, a couple of kurma Mekah, air zam-zam and, get this, a silver spoon to feed with.
So after the sweet ritual, Mikhail was finally brought into the house where his grandparents and assorted uncles and aunties gushed over him and smothered him with attention.

That was when I had the luxury of flopping onto my bed and rest on the cool sheets while chatting peacefully with my husband about how lovely it was to be home with our son.

The Pantang

If anyone asks me, what was the worst thing about being pregnant or giving birth?
I'd say it's either:-

1. The first month of nausea and constant barfing
2. The epidural-free contractions
3. The after-birth pantang

I didn't really mind the bland food (yeah right...) And eating raw halia for every meal was actually quite refreshing.

I didn't mind the fact that I had to wear long, thick socks, sweaters and kain batik all the time (though... why am I wearing kain? the baby didn't come out from down there, you know).

I didn't mind the gallons of air panas, air halia, air rempah and air jamu I had to drink (by the way, air jamu look, smells and tastes disgusting... but it works)

I didn't mind the ber'tungku (pressing heated stone on my tummy) and the ber'urut (one helluva painful massage by a deceptively frail-looking tukang urut).

What I DID mind, was the house-arrest.

For 40 whole days, I was NOT allowed to step out of the house to go ANYWHERE. And for someone who has spent most of her life going SOMEWHERE, it was T.O.R.T.U.R.E.

By the 3rd week, I was having a severe case of cabin fever.

Everyone in the house was beginning to irritate me. The HOUSE was beginning to iritate me. I resented my husband for being able to go outside, even though all he did was go to work. I resented my mom (and MIL) for keeping me inside and viewed them as my jailors. I resented the world for being able to GO OUTSIDE.

Of course, I was now beginning to irritate everybody. Heheh.

At the 4th week, I think my parents reached their limit and they allowed me to go for dinner with Wan. At a restaurant. Outside.

I grinned all the time during the drive there. I grinned when we placed our order. I grinned when the food arrived.

And then guess what.

I started to miss my baby and wanted to go home.

To be continued...

Mikhail's First Picture: In the incubator right after the emergency c-section that brought him into the world.

Mikhail & Daddy, bonding in the hospital while Mommy recuperated.

Spent most of my time in the hospital staring at my baby.

Our little family ready to go home from the hospital.

The grandmothers giving Mikhail his first taste of sweetness before we entered the house.

Mikhail in his crib at home; snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug.

The little newborn I couldn't bear to be apart from...