Alexa at 2 Months
My baby was born on a sunny day. August 10 was a blessed day, and yet a time when COVID is still wreaking havoc in hospitals. I remembered being alone in the ward with nurses. Their chatters were wild, and as my blood pressure rise without repentance, I was literally choking in my own vomit.
Nine months is not a long time. But to a pregnant woman on her first trimester, even a month could feel like an agonizing woe of forever. Trips to the bathroom to make the slam dunk on the toilet bowl, unending episodes of gastric reflux, and worst, an incredible case of hypersalivation, made me swear I'm never going to be pregnant again. When a mother's baby is born, however, everything that happened before isn't going to matter. Months of barely getting out of bed because of persistent nausea and a thousand headaches will not count. Hours of exhausting, soul-splitting labor will become trivial, compared to seeing your baby for the first time.
Professional Photography by Lovelifelullabies Images
Our special thanks to Sir Ian of Lovelifelullabies Images for taking these priceless moments for us to treasure forever.
Rewind Before Conception
I am an accountant by profession. Rewind a few months before December of 2019, I was a freshman in UP College of Law, depressed and struggling. Months of difficult academic experience got the best of me—I have to admit in all honesty—as I worked full-time as an accountant. I was the breadwinner of my family. For the most part, I enjoyed studying. Nevertheless, I find that the pressure of handling my studies, career, and personal finances, with the weight of the responsibility I have at home, made me depressed. I wanted a break. By the time finals were due, I was unable to take most of my exams due to a bad urinary infection that brought me to the hospital. And I thought, this is it. I have to back down, step back, take a stop. I wanted to be a lawyer so badly it haunts me in my dreams. But I have responsibilities. I have to be a dependable Ate, and my youngest sister, who happens to be on her first year of college, needs my assistance now more than ever.
So I took a break. I did not enroll the following semester and found a good work-from-home job for foreign clients. I was earning enough. My boyfriend—now fiancé—and I were living together in a small rented apartment at that time.
December 2019 came with a surprise in hand. My period didn't arrive as expected. It took us five pregnancy tests to confirm what my mind was telling me, and yet only one clear line appeared every time. Despite that, I was not convinced. In the middle of the night, I insisted that we go to the nearest hospital to take a blood test.
With clammy palms I held my partner's hands as we wait anxiously for the results.
And I knew, the moment the doctor went to see us, that my speculation was correct. The doctor's face gave it away in a split second, as it was bright and his eyes were saying congratulations in advance. And yes, he did say it, "Congratulations po! You have a baby on the way next year!"
I thought I was going to cry, but I held it back. Was I happy back then? Disappointed in myself? No, that wasn't it—the emotion was more complex than that. My mind was a huge pot that contained my anxiety and dreams for the future, and as I added a new ingredient on this pot, it began to change colors. We were restless the night we found out. Panicking was the better word. A few weeks after, we even began looking for house and lots for sale. On Christmas day, we told my parents about the big news, and they hinted no surprise but only delight.
The First Trimester
Despite my parents' insistence to stay at our family home back in the province, my boyfriend and I stayed together during the whole term of my pregnancy. I was alone during the day in the apartment, and my partner likely comes home at past 8 in the evening.
On January of 2020, news of the pandemic that spread like wildfire began to surface. About that same time, the so-called paglilihi, or morning sickness, struck me.
The "morning sickness" didn't exactly start in the morning. Most of the time, they hit in the afternoon, spiking at night and causing insomnia. The smell of fried or roasted chicken, which I've always enjoyed, assaulted my stomach. At around seven weeks, I almost choked at the sickening amount of spit in my mouth. I was experiencing a rather rare pregnancy symptom called sialorrhea, or excessive salivation. It is unknown what exactly causes this symptom, but only a few women experience it. I kept a large cup beside my bed to spit every 10 minutes, as I couldn't stand to swallow the incredible volume that keeps pooling on my mouth non-stop. It was a drool-a-marathon. I literally cried because of sialorrhea alone.
The vomiting was horrible. Before discovering what my stomach can tolerate digesting (and that was pork and fish, mostly), every food I ate back then found their way to the sewers undigested and acid-enhanced. It was ghastly especially when I had nothing more to puke, so the bitter bile will come up instead.
As for cravings, I didn't exactly had them either. It was more of knowing what I disliked eating at the time or what I can tolerate eating. I knew that I hated chicken and eggs, and I also avoided some beef recipes which were too savory or meaty. Chocolates, which I dearly delighted in so much, were also off-limits to my guts.
The rotten smell of garbage or dirty streets in the morning made me nauseous. Amidst the pandemic worsening, I made friends with Lalafood and FoodPanda riders because I couldn't bring myself to buy food outside. In particular, Giligan's Inihaw na Liempo and Lechon Kawali appealed to my tastebuds that I had them thrice or even four times a week. Oddly, I was never a fan of siopao before, but since I was able to keep it in my stomach without regurgitating it, Chowking became a blessing. I requested pritong galunggong from my Lola, who lives in a nearby barangay. I also began to develop a fondness for tulingan, whether cooked in coconut milk or fried.
I lost a British client on February. Partly, I blame it to my worsening symptoms because I can barely get up and work. I knew that women are capable of working despite having a difficult pregnancy, so being pregnant shouldn't be an excuse to fail at work. I changed my mind though about this, and having experienced pregnancy made me rethink that pregnant and lactating women should be accorded more humanitarian considerations at work. If given the choice, we shouldn't be working at all while our bodies assemble another human being inside us. Prolonged stress and physical exhaustion could affect the biological processes happening inside the womb. According to a study conducted by Coussons-Read, prenatal stress can indirectly affect infant development and health by increasing the occurrence of adverse pregnancy outcomes. A child is also exposed to an increased risk for developing psychosocial disorders and impairing cognitive development when the mother is anxious, depressed or stressed while pregnant.
I did manage to work around 20 hours a week, but on most days, lying in bed all day was my only relief. I couldn't focus for more than an hour as I stare blankly on my computer screen, sleepless and dizzy. The next visit to the OB revealed that I lost almost 4 kilos, from 46 down to 42. I was suspected of having hyperemesis gravidarum or an extreme case of morning sickness.
The Second and Third Trimesters
The first lockdown was announced in March. A few days before the city boundaries of Metro Manila closed, my partner and I rushed to his family home in Rizal, afraid that we will be trapped in Taguig for the rest of the year. The days that followed were a slew of fear and panic as more and more COVID-19 cases were reported. We were lucky that we escaped from the crowded Metro.
My baby bump was barely showing at four months, and I worried that it might be because of the lost weight. The worst of my morning sickness began to subside. Eventually, I slept comfortably and I wasn't spitting on cups anymore. My cold war with chicken and chocolates ended, and I began to work on bringing back my weight. I noticed that I was hungrier than usual, and I took that as a good sign that my baby is growing excitedly inside me. I was also sleeping longer. I craved for oatmeal, chocolates, brownies, fish and a good helping of sinigang.
While working, I noticed a faint wiggling in my bump. I thought I was passing gas, but when I concentrated on the feeling, I found out that those were small, baby kicks. I was ecstatic. At five months, our OB revealed that we are having a baby girl. A princess, she is.
The third trimester was more of a waiting game. As my bump grew bigger, so was the difficulty to sleep. I felt being back to the first trimester because of the insomnia. My baby grew more restless, and her kicking sprees were more pronounced at night. I also noticed that she 'worked' her acrobatic skill when I worked during the day, often making me wince in pain. She is a strong girl, that I am sure of.
I also managed to gain a new client at this point of my pregnancy, as I needed more income to buy supplies for my baby. I began to purchase clothes, diapers and other supplies in Lazada when deliveries were allowed during GCQ. I got two boxes of Pampers Premium, and a box of baby wipes from a gratifying sale. Brands or products that appealed to me, after some online 'research' reading reviews, are as follows:
Pampers Premium, for newborn diapers
Mustela, for baby wash, lotions, cleansers, rash cream and diaper cream
Tiny Buds for baby oils, baby-safe detergent and fabric conditioner, bottle cleanser and nursery cleaner
Mother's Choice, as distributed by Babyzone Philippines, for baby clothes (onesies), wrap-arounds and bamboo fabric jersey wraps
Enfant for baby-safe liquid detergent, baby socks and mittens, and baby blankets
You can follow the links to the Lazada stores of these brands. (Nope, this is not a sponsored post! I aim to post product reviews in the next days to come.)
I munched on cookies, brownies and crinkles during non-obligatory mealtimes. I was determined to add more weight to 'fatten' my baby up, but my OB advised to cut back on the calories if I wanted a normal delivery.
At around 36 to 37 weeks, I felt dizzier, and moving around became a difficult chore. I would catch my breath when I took strolls outside. I prepared my hospital supplies, packing my baby's first clothes, baby wash and diapers. The excitement, as well as apprehension, grew louder in my mind. I read about managing labor pains and the anxieties of delivery. No matter how much I prepared my mind for it, I still trembled at the thought of giving birth.
The OB recommended that I get swabbed for COVID at this point as the hospital will not admit me without negative test results. The following morning after my swab test, I found a mass of blood clot in my underwear. I knew then that my baby girl was ready to get out. I, too, was ready, but I was afraid.
The Long Labor
The cramps started out as mild and dysmenorrhea-like. I was able to tolerate it at first. I had a long way to go before active labor. For the first eight hours, the cramps will come in waves every 30 minutes. They say that if you can still talk or smile, that wasn't the real thing yet. I was able to watch a movie with my partner, and slept a little, though uncomfortably so. I was nervous, but I tried to relax myself.
Then, it happened.
The cramps were stronger, coming in tight waves with a closer interval the following day. Every 15 to 20 minutes, I winced in pain. I could still talk, but as the hours tick to evening, I could barely keep myself calm. I couldn't eat without wincing, or trembling. My legs shook uncontrollably as I tried to hold myself and manage the incredible pain of labor. We rushed to the hospital, and after a shock-inducing internal examination (I hated IEs, yes), the nurse told us to come back at a later time as my cervix is nowhere near open yet. I was crying in pain, but they told me that this wasn't the real thing yet.
So we went home, and waited. Another two hours had passed, and I told my partner that I really couldn't stand the pain. This time, the interval between the contractions dropped to 5 to 10 minutes. It was arduous. I couldn't think of anything else while the mind-racking pain assaulted, on and on. They couldn't bear to see me crying and wincing, so for the second time I was brought to the hospital to get checked.
Again, to my incredible embarrassment, I was told that my cervix hadn't started to dilate yet. I was dumbfounded. I wanted to beg them to take me in. As we rode the tricycle home, I held my bump and told my baby to come out. Please, anak.
For another three hours, every minute felt like being stuck in purgatory. Unable to sleep, nor even take a breather, the wee hours of the morning came with a warning cry from my throat. I begged to be taken back again to the hospital. This time, I needed assistance on both arms when I walked.
The pain is far from the word 'terrible', far, and worse. It is hard to describe. Ineffable. When I say 'soul-splitting', I am not making exaggerations. The contractions felt like they were crushing my organs, or bones, and it felt like my lower back is being lashed at savagely. I probably swore many times how I would never get pregnant again, that my baby will be the only one. The agnostic in me literally prayed to the 'Higher Power', or to the universe, to get me through this.
Women, women—how we suffer like this to produce a human being, and raise kids from the milk in our bosoms, should justify that we needed society to respect, protect, support, and assure us more. It is beyond belief and comprehension that despite these pains and sacrifices, women are almost always the subject of oppression, discrimination, and abuse.
After an IE which almost got me into a fight with a doctor, they determined that I was ready to be admitted. It was a surprise that my cervix was already 4 cm dilated. It was possible that the previous IEs conducted did not detect the early dilation because, as explained by the doctor, my cervix is 'high'.
It was seven in the morning. Counting from the time I had my first contractions, or early labor, I reckon that I was nearly in early labor for 36 hours, and six to eight hours prior would have been the start of active labor, when my cervix started dilating.
My fiancé and mother-in-law were not allowed to be with me in the delivery ward. As the labor pains intensified and grew much closer, my blood pressure rose steadily. I was warned that it wasn't a good sign. By mid-morning, tubes were tethered to my wrists, and 40 cc of Magnesium Sulfate was injected in both cheeks of my buttocks to control the blood pressure.
I remembered being alone in the ward with nurses. Their chatters were wild, and as my blood pressure rise without repentance, I was literally choking in my own vomit.
The Magnesium Sulfate did nothing to alleviate my high BP. Worse, it made my head spin in undulating circles, and I knew that every time I spoke to the nurses or the doctor, my stomach acid would rise and sting my throat. I worried, and worried. I also noticed that my contractions started to fall apart in longer intervals. Every hour that passed, as I stared into the ceiling, had me muttering incomprehensible prayers. It was past three in the afternoon.
Finally, as they readied my body on the delivery table and spread me wide-open, the doctor told me the inevitable.
"Dear, i-caesarian ka na natin ha. Sobrang tagal na kasi ng labor mo. 5 cm pa lang ang cervix mo. Hindi na kasi nagpo-progress, at habang tumatagal nagiging delikado na para sa inyong dalawa ni baby."
Oddly enough, I remembered these words spoken to me, and all I could mutter was, "Okay po."
I was brought to the operating room. I felt like I wanted to push, but the doctors kept telling me not to as it was dangerous. The shot of the general anesthesia drilled my lower spine, and after that, I shut down almost immediately.
Nothing registered in my memory while they prepared to get my baby out. I wished I had been awake, but I was too exhausted. It only mattered to get my baby safe and sound out into this world.
Recovery, and Joy
When I woke up, I could hear the sharp cries of a newborn in the room. I couldn't feel my lower body, but I managed to move my arms. The nurses were cleaning me up. I realized that the operation was done. When I lifted to remove my face mask, I was aghast to see bubbly vomit in it. I was foaming in the mouth, literally. The anesthetic could be to blame.
"Saan po ang baby ko?" were the first words that I muttered after waking up. The nurses turned to me with smiles on their faces and said, "Ayun po, umiiyak na."
I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. I only had that incredible sense of relief, accompanied by an overwhelming wave of joy. My baby and I made it. I was stitched up, with my mind waddling terribly in pain, but we made it.
Nine months is not a long time. But to a pregnant woman on her first trimester, even a month could feel like an agonizing woe of forever. Trips to the bathroom to make the slam dunk on the toilet bowl, unending episodes of gastric reflux, and worst, an incredible case of hypersalivation, made me swear I'm never going to be pregnant again. When a mother's baby is born, however, everything that happened before isn't going to matter. Months of barely getting out of bed because of persistent nausea and a thousand headaches will not count. Hours of exhausting, soul-splitting labor will become trivial, compared to seeing your baby for the first time.
When I held my baby for the first time, I felt assured, and complete. And then I vowed, that I will do everything to protect her, nurture her. It goes without saying that I will love and treasure her for the rest of my life. We named her Alexa Theone. Theone means 'gift from God'.
Her nickname, though, was something I came up because of the pandemic. We fondly call her 'Ayu'—short for 'Ayuda'.
Photos of Ayu and us on Her First Week
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