The phenomenon called pregnancy
The phenomenon called pregnancy
I am four months pregnant. And this is our first. When my husband and I were at the gynae's in the fifth week, tears were stinging my eyes as I heard the strong heartbeat of the little one on the ultrasound. And as the visits increased and I could see our baby's head and the little foot kicking me, tears turned into the Niagra Falls. I kept philosophising about how Providence made a woman and the complexity of a woman's organs to make and keep a baby.
But this is not about me or the the trimesters. This is about the serendipity of men in my life who have offered incriminating pregnancy advise.
Let's start from the beginning. One month had passed since we started trying. By the second month, I called my gay friend who knows a little too much about a woman's insides. He calculated my menstrual cycle and gave me the three fertile days and told me that's when hubby and I had to strategise and go in for the kill. We were pregnant by the next month.
A headhunter by profession, Sean was a candidate of mine and we got on like a house on fire. We connected as Dragon babies and started talking about children. I wasn't pregnant but disliked my then gynae.
He introduced me to his wife's gynae who I thought was God-sent. Thereafter, Sean and I kept in touch through emails and when I got pregnant in the early stages he sent me a list of baby things I would need to buy. He even arranged a lunch for us to meet his wife where she was a goldmine of information about the fatigue after and how to perservere, breastfeed and manage.
Taylor and I were ex-colleagues, and when I mentioned my dizzy spells to him his advise was, "Ah! That's a lack of sugar! Just have porridge with honey or even better a sugared drink in the morning. That should hit your blood system fast and your spells won't last." Even better was his wife's suggestion suggestion we buy the McClaren pram and though pricey, it lasts until the baby is four years old. They went through countless numbers of prams before they found McClaren's.
The third accidental man in my life is the roti prata shop 'uncle'. A shoulder-length curly haired Indian man who is a little far too curious about my life. I used to brush it off as him never seeing a youngish, suit-clad Indian girl walk boldly and order everything in Tamil. He had not seen me for three months and asked why hadn't I come by to purchase my regular cup of 'teh si' every morning. "I am 4 months pregnant, uncle, and am trying to cut down on my caffeine intake," I answered smiling. There came a barrage of questions -- did I have vomitting, was I okay, was this my first pregnancy. When I answered all his questions, he had the sweetest advise: Don't think about the office and the office can go to hell at this time in your life. You and your baby come first. In Tamil, that was like honey on my lips.
Enter the fourth man. I was walking home after sweating it out in sun salutations, bridge poses and gentle twists. Night had fallen, the air was light and the moon nearly full hung low in the midnight blue sky. I ran into our elderly Malay security guard. We waved and the first thing out of his mouth was, "You need to be very careful from now."
I was in awe. How did he know? Had my husband told him? My tummy was so small and hardly noticeable. "I am a father of three and in fact, I kind of knew when you were in your second month but I didn't want say anything as we Asians are superstitious about the first trimester. Enjoy this and just be careful and take extra care."
This, from a man I didn't know well and only said hi to in the corridor.
The phenomenon in being pregnant in the modern world is the plethora of information out there versus when my mother and grandmother were carrying lives within them. It is not just the literature that surrounds pregnancy and motherhood, it's the people lurking in the background who come out share their experiences on how to fix things. My female friends who have been mothers give more experienced advise in terms of how to keep fit while pregnant, the right breast pump to buy, the cocoa butter to use on my tummy to ward off stretch marks and where to go for pre-natal class. So far the funniest thing about getting pregnant was passing all our unused condoms to another gay buddy who immediately gave me a big hug, "This was on my grocery list as I had just run out!"
I am four months pregnant. And this is our first. When my husband and I were at the gynae's in the fifth week, tears were stinging my eyes as I heard the strong heartbeat of the little one on the ultrasound. And as the visits increased and I could see our baby's head and the little foot kicking me, tears turned into the Niagra Falls. I kept philosophising about how Providence made a woman and the complexity of a woman's organs to make and keep a baby.
But this is not about me or the the trimesters. This is about the serendipity of men in my life who have offered incriminating pregnancy advise.
Let's start from the beginning. One month had passed since we started trying. By the second month, I called my gay friend who knows a little too much about a woman's insides. He calculated my menstrual cycle and gave me the three fertile days and told me that's when hubby and I had to strategise and go in for the kill. We were pregnant by the next month.
A headhunter by profession, Sean was a candidate of mine and we got on like a house on fire. We connected as Dragon babies and started talking about children. I wasn't pregnant but disliked my then gynae.
He introduced me to his wife's gynae who I thought was God-sent. Thereafter, Sean and I kept in touch through emails and when I got pregnant in the early stages he sent me a list of baby things I would need to buy. He even arranged a lunch for us to meet his wife where she was a goldmine of information about the fatigue after and how to perservere, breastfeed and manage.
Taylor and I were ex-colleagues, and when I mentioned my dizzy spells to him his advise was, "Ah! That's a lack of sugar! Just have porridge with honey or even better a sugared drink in the morning. That should hit your blood system fast and your spells won't last." Even better was his wife's suggestion suggestion we buy the McClaren pram and though pricey, it lasts until the baby is four years old. They went through countless numbers of prams before they found McClaren's.
The third accidental man in my life is the roti prata shop 'uncle'. A shoulder-length curly haired Indian man who is a little far too curious about my life. I used to brush it off as him never seeing a youngish, suit-clad Indian girl walk boldly and order everything in Tamil. He had not seen me for three months and asked why hadn't I come by to purchase my regular cup of 'teh si' every morning. "I am 4 months pregnant, uncle, and am trying to cut down on my caffeine intake," I answered smiling. There came a barrage of questions -- did I have vomitting, was I okay, was this my first pregnancy. When I answered all his questions, he had the sweetest advise: Don't think about the office and the office can go to hell at this time in your life. You and your baby come first. In Tamil, that was like honey on my lips.
Enter the fourth man. I was walking home after sweating it out in sun salutations, bridge poses and gentle twists. Night had fallen, the air was light and the moon nearly full hung low in the midnight blue sky. I ran into our elderly Malay security guard. We waved and the first thing out of his mouth was, "You need to be very careful from now."
I was in awe. How did he know? Had my husband told him? My tummy was so small and hardly noticeable. "I am a father of three and in fact, I kind of knew when you were in your second month but I didn't want say anything as we Asians are superstitious about the first trimester. Enjoy this and just be careful and take extra care."
This, from a man I didn't know well and only said hi to in the corridor.
The phenomenon in being pregnant in the modern world is the plethora of information out there versus when my mother and grandmother were carrying lives within them. It is not just the literature that surrounds pregnancy and motherhood, it's the people lurking in the background who come out share their experiences on how to fix things. My female friends who have been mothers give more experienced advise in terms of how to keep fit while pregnant, the right breast pump to buy, the cocoa butter to use on my tummy to ward off stretch marks and where to go for pre-natal class. So far the funniest thing about getting pregnant was passing all our unused condoms to another gay buddy who immediately gave me a big hug, "This was on my grocery list as I had just run out!"