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    Jun 9th 2012

    By: Mez

    10 comments

    Feeding. Probably the most important, but yet most contentious, topic with regards to babies. Naturally, it’s also the source of the most problems. When you think about it, it should be so easy. I mean, look at the animal world from the perspective of the urban populous. Nursing mothers, and their newborn offspring alike, need no education or intervention. Both parties know exactly what to do and just do it. So why are we so different?

    I used to think that humans overcomplicate things for themselves, and for the most part, we probably do. But that being said, humans have the unnatural ability to fight the law of natural selection. To compartmentalize and circumvent natures way of perpetuating a stronger race and gene pool. In any case, here we are. Sleep deprived… stressed… and completely exhausted.

    It’s safe to say, for us at least, that the lions share of problems relating to babies is stem from feeding. K has really been a great baby in that she cries with obvious purpose, though that is slowly changing now that she’s being more self aware. When she cries, she’s either dirty, in pain, or hungry. Easy. The first is easily fixed, the second we’ve thankfully not really had to deal with, and the third… oh gosh the third…

    Back to the point of contention. Feeding… breast vs formula. Two different camps who seem to fiercely oppose each other. A quick trawl of internet parenthood forums would forgive you for thinking you’d have stumbled back in history into a religious war. Pro-boob vs Pro-powder. Much childish behaviour, strawman attacks, and ad hominem arguments ensue. Like with most battles, I say you’re both idiots.

    Nursing science has evolved to such a point that, I personally believe, it doesn’t matter which path you take. Both can lead to a physically healthy child. The question is whether you wish to take nature’s way, or the other way. Sure one may have benefits, but they also have negatives to that choice. And this is what life is all about, choice. Weighing the pro’s and con’s of your decisions. The key is not the decision you make, it’s how you arrive at that decision. To know why you have chosen that path, and as I’ve said countless times, “just because”, is not a valid decision making process. Feeding is no exception.

    Just like sure breastmilk may have more antibodies, endorphines, and all that stuff, but you suffer in the form of inconvenience and discomfort. With formula, it’s sure as hell more convenient, but it’s not natural and you run a higher risk of infant obesity. This same conundrum will manifest itself in later life, such as tuition overload for better academic performance at the expense of childhood, and the focus on career and cash over quality family time as an adult. Both choices are valid, what counts is the basis for those choices, and the understanding of the relevant opportunity costs. To argue over these points as to which is the absolute correct path is absolutely pathetic. One can share their views, but they have no right to force their views. You have no right to mormon your choice down anyone else’s throat.

    The most important factor that makes a healthy child, holistically, is love and affection, and I challenge anyone to dispute this. We humans are emotional and social creatures that crave these things. Look at ourselves. We can be omnivores, carnivores, or herbivores (freaks!), but our body can still be physically tip top. The most important indicator of our quality of self, is how we are emotionally… and this has nothing to do with food. As parents, our prime focus is the emotional sustenance of our children, because there is no other surrogate for that. You can physically sustain a human a thousand different ways, but there is no substitute for love, support, and affection.

    This is the core basis of all my decisions relating to Karissa. I told Erica I don’t care whether she opts for C section or natural birth, ultimately a healthy baby is the objective. Logically, C Section is preferable, as it removes many of the variables associated with natural birth. And I hate variables when it comes to life or safety. However, nature’s way is that of natural delivery, which is believed to strength and better prepare the baby for the world during the birth process. However, increased chance of complication. Erica opted for natural and I supported that, though nature ended up dictating that it wasn’t to be.

    Same with feeding. My preference was for the natural way, but if Erica chose formula, then I’d have no problem with that. She was formula fed as a baby, and me breastfed. We made the breast choice.

    It’s intimidating to hear the nightmare anecdotes from mothers whom have had trouble breastfeeding. All we could pray for is that we blessed when it came to God’s breastfeeding lottery. We won a mixed bag. Sure we got some awesome metaphorical gummi bears, but we also got some of those awful licorice sticks. Fricken’ licorice… who eats that shit?

    Erica started breastfeeding from the moment K was born, and as any new mother will testify, it wasn’t a pleasant process. Chafed raw nipples, painful latches, frustrated baby, not enough milk. The colostrum came as usual, and milk indicators soon after. It’s heartbreaking to watch my wife, whom already has a very low pain threshold, in tears because her nipples were raw, sore, and slightly bleeding, but yet had to endure the dreaded feeding time for the sake of the baby. This intense combination of pain and duty is something no man will ever be able to relate to. My heart broke watching her in such agony, but not being able to do anything about it. I went out and bought some nipple shields and hydrogel pads on a friend’s recommendation to help ease her pain. The nurses supplemented the feeds at night with formula.

    On taking K home, her weight loss continued. K lost 12% of her birthweight as we tried to persist with pure breastfeeding, but there was no way for us to gauge, at the time, if K was getting enough. When we took her into the pediatrician a couple of days later, she said K was dehydrated as her stool was dry and she wasn’t peeing very much. So we decided to do measured feeds. E expressed so we could measure what her output was, and exactly how much K was getting. The objective was to ensure that her weight decline and dehydration was arrested and the trend reversed. E pumped, bottle fed the expressed milk to K, and topped up the residual with formula. There simply just wasn’t enough milk coming.

    We discovered that K would sleep substantially longer with formula compared to breast. She would last about 2-3 hours on 90ml of breastmilk, and about 4-5 hours on forumla. So we gave her breastmilk throughout the day and formula for the feeds at night. 1 formula feed around midnight before we slept, and the following night shift feed. Initially we both got up, but since I had assignments to finish and exams to prepare for, E told me to sleep through and take the early morning shift. On the days when she was exhausted, I would relieve her on the night shift. She also had to take the night shift primarily as she needed to pump every 3 hours to improve milk supply, only skipping the morning shift for sleep.

    E took Fenugreek and Brewers Yeast as natural supplements to promote lactation, however, I’m not exactly sure if this has improved milk production with any significance. The Gynae prescribed domperidone, which seemed quite effective, but we didn’t want to rely too much on prescribed medication just in case there were side effects. In the short term however, it helped.

    Fast forward to 3 weeks. We decide to try to wean K off the bottle and move to breast. However, we ran into the problem that many mothers know all too well. Nipple confusion. Coaxing milk from the breast is a highly unique skillset which the baby has to develop, one that goes unused with a gravity fed bottle. While K still remembered how to latch and suck from the nipple, she would either a) fall asleep and wake up extremely hungry and frustrated, or b) simply start extremely hungry and frustrated, refusing the breast.

    It’s not that she didn’t know how, she had just been spoilt by the effortlessness of a bottle. I came across a post on a parenthood forum of a mother detailing how she managed to resolve the problem of nipple confusion with the aid of a supplemental nurser. I’ve never heard of this device but it sounded technically like what we needed. The problem is to resolve the frustration that K experiences when the milk doesn’t come, and she goes into a highly agitated state. The supplemental nurser works by inserting a thin tube connected to a milk reservoir into the babies mouth alongside the nipple. When the baby sucks the nipple, it also pulls milk from the reservoir and gives the baby instant reward or gratification from the effort, alleviating the frustration. She also simultaneously is getting milk from the nipple, which also acts to stimulate milk production more effectively (supposedly), than a pump.

    Our first couple of efforts were met with frustration. We discovered that the core reason for this was that the baby was already extremely hungry and in an agitated state. In other words, the basic principle of behavioural modification at play. Once the mind is in a heightened or agitated state, it shuts off to learning new information.

    The key was to introduce the new process while K was calm and before she was ravenous. And it’s working! However, it’s absolutely exhausting. Right now it’s a two man job to see it through as manipulating both nurser and baby is extremely fiddly. Once E gets the hang of it, I’m sure it will be easy to solo it. Our first few efforts saw the feed session lasting two hours as we juggled frustrating and crying baby, a hose that kept displacing itself, and vacuum problems with the reservoir. Once overcome, things started to work pretty well. And that’s where we are now. We are seeing significant progress as K is realising that the bottle ain’t coming. It’s boob, or bust. And I’d like to think survival’s ‘do or die’ instinct will win out in the end. We just hope that the milk production is still on it’s way, as E isn’t producing enough to feed K on pure breastmilk alone.

    We didn’t explore the option of a lactation consultant because my preference is to do things on a logical and case my case basis. We’re blessed by being the most educated and well-connected generation in history, with limitless resources right at our fingertips. By combining high observation, logic & reason, with those information resources, my hope is that we can exclude as much professional intervention as possible.

    For me, a father, the scariest part of the whole journey was supporting not the baby, but her mommy. The guilt that Erica felt at not being able to provide such a basic need to her baby was overwhelming. Again, it’s a feeling that fathers, and not even all mothers, will ever know. We’re not all equal, with some women being more prone to guilt and self-blame than others. It may be hormones, or it may be unique personality. It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t worried about the baby, as I said before, we have a thousand different ways to ensure that it doesn’t go hungry. But we’ll never know what the combination of hormones and a strong maternal responsibility will do. Erica felt helpless, impotent, responsible. And when she would see how angry and frustrated the baby got at her nipple, because she wasn’t producing enough, it just broke her down. And no one, not even fellow mothers, have any right to judge another against their own point of reference for there is no control point or measure for this. Each mother is highly unique, and the permutations of all relevant contributing factors almost limitless.

    All I could do was reassure her that the baby isn’t angry, it will never go hungry, and it will never be unloved. I reassured her that she’s doing her best, undergoing so much exhaustion, pain and discomfort, and that is so much more than anyone could ask for. Self-sacrifice is one of the, if not the, most powerful gifts that anyone could ever make. Human, animal, or even God. If that is the only thing that you’ve given, to anyone, it’s already more than anyone could ever ask for. Watching my wife, Karissa’s mother, do this time and time again… not only has our baby already received more than it needs, but also me, by just being a part of it.

    To all mothers, whom have selflessly given so much of themselves for the life and welfare of their babies, and in whatever form that they’ve chosen to do it, I truly salute you.

    All Posts, Karissa, Mez

  • Study fail…

    Jun 8th 2012

    By: Mez

    2 comments

    My earlier attempts to prepare for tomorrow’s exam didn’t quite go as planned. The little one has been proving herself to be quite the fussy pot these past few days. Not exactly sure why, but I assume it’s related to her increase in awareness and general cognitive development. Or just a growth spurt, whatever the case may be.

    Anyway, K proved herself to be quite the distraction, constantly wanted to be carried and just seeming to be more sensitive than usual. The end result? This. Placating her on my lap whilst I tried to do some last minute cramming. Unlike most distractions, this was an adorable one that made me incredibly thankful that I actually paid attention to all my lectures throughout the semester.

    What a difference full time study is to part-time. Last year, I was so exhausted after work that I kept falling asleep in class. End result, not remembering a thing and having to cram massively for exams. Now, I’m confident I’m able to cruise through the exams with minimal preparation as I could actually retain stuff I learnt in class!

    Looking at this little peanut in my lap, I’m so glad for it as I think I just ended up happily giving her my attention for 90% of my study time.

    My earlier attempt at preparing for tomorrow's exam...

    All Posts, Family, Karissa, Mez

  • Diaper Duty

    Jun 7th 2012

    By: Mez

    No comments

    Diaper duty is and has generally always been a sore point of contention between new parents, or so I’ve heard. One of those perennial parenthood bugbears that surface even before the child is born. Wife highlights the expectation of husband to pull his weight in the diaper change department, and husband agrees. Post-partum, this changes to wife mooting the lack of participation from the husband in the diaper change department, and the husband coughing up some half-assed excuse for this being the case.

    Changing diapers, excuse the pun, is a shitty job. Who the hell would want to do it by choice? I remember seeing my brother and his wife, both proponents of the cloth nappy movement, having to change their son. Watching them wrap up this stanky cotton nappy filled with green poop, stick it in their bag so they could take it home to wash, filled me with revulsion. I don’t know if it was the sight, smell, or my vivid imagination of how the said poop cleansing would go, but it was a massive turn off. But hey, if I wanted kids, this is part and parcel of what comes with it. Just like cars comes with mechanical failures, PCs comes with BSODs, and a women comes with insufferable nagging (ha! I kid I kid…). You can’t have one without the other.

    For years, every time the subject  of babies came up and how much I want them, Erica and all women present always do the finger pointing thing at me accompanied with the “make sure you do the diapers!” speech or something along those lines. Honestly, I hated this. It annoyed me because it annoys me when people state the obvious. Like when you’re obviously in the middle of doing something, and then someone comes up to you and asks you to do what you’re clearly already doing, and you feel like kicking them in the nuts (or ovaries, whatever the case may be)? Yeah… like that. But I guess it’s easy to talk the talk as anecdotal evidence suggests that many husbands tend to avoid diaper duty like the plague or Justin Beiber.

    Given that I wanted a baby far more than Erica, initially, I had already resigned myself to having to do all the dirty stuff for that’s really the universal rule. If you want something more, you have to pony up more. Money, effort, time, or what have you. Anyway, for the longest time I’ve had this phobia about diapers. It’s a stupid phobia, but I always have this fear of having it latch onto my face. Don’t ask me why… it’s just there. I imagine having this disgusting poop filled vessel of evil somehow slipping from my grasp and plastering itself on my face. I’m shuddering now as I type this as the imagery is just so vivid.

    Kinda like this... but with a loaded nappy.

    When K was born, I finally got to put my money (and thankfully not poop) where my mouth is. Initially, it was a technical struggle. Maybe it was sensory overload with all the wiping and the struggling and the getting the poop out of her private parts, but diaper changes was a technical challenge. I would stare at the stupid thing like it was a Rorschach painting. Is it a lamp, or is it Batman?? I don’t know!!! I just couldn’t figure up from down or back from front! Or maybe the brand the hospital uses just sucks. Not to mention trying to install it around the umbilical cord.

    rorschach

    How I used to see diapers...

    Fast forward 3.5 weeks, and I’m the goddamn Batman at diaper changing. We’re at 3.5 weeks and have gone through over 300 diapers. I’ve unlocked so many diaper changing perks and achievements thanks to sheer overwhelming practice. Slight of hand pro, ninja, one man army… you name it. I rock that shit. But you know what? I’ve really come to love diaper changing in a sense. I mean, ideally and in absolute terms I wish I didn’t have to, but given that this is an impossibility, I really enjoy it for what it is. Diaper changing is really another instance of bonding time between K and I. Comforting her, kissing her, talking and singing to her… I love looking at all her cute, and crazy, little movements and expressions when doing the change. I’ve gone from watching her hate her changes and crying, to laying there smiling and making the cutest little baby noises while I’m depoopifying her.

    And this is what I hope that more fathers to realise, because I sure as hell didn’t previously. Any opportunity for you to interact, and more importantly, soothe and comfort your baby, is so precious and important. Regardless of how yucky or stressful it may initially seem. I told Erica that diaper changes is specifically the domain of either her, or myself. The helper or in-laws are not to do ever do it. Initially this was only to ensure that Erica doesn’t off-load this responsibility to the helper, but now I truly see what tremendous value there is in this simple task and by off-loading this, parents are missing out on so much that is so special. Now, I wouldn’t give up diaper duty for the world. That moment of revulsion when I’m faced with the hell’s fury in a nappy is quickly overcome by the opportunity to lean over and kiss K’s cheek or tummy, then watch her being happily swaddled in a fresh new one. And then my favourite moment, the post change cuddle. Each moment is priceless. You may not realise it at 4am, but you will after. Sure it can be frustrating at times when you’re exhausted or extremely busy, but the gains are worth the pain.

    So guys… take my word for it. Changing your baby’s diapers is not duty, but an honour and a privilege. Don’t squander these moments as they will be gone before you know it.

    One of the less pleasurable moments where she craps so bad I need to bathe her after. But how I can I stay frustrated at that face!

    Disclaimer: Baby is still on milk. I may very well sing a different tune once she’s on solids!

    All Posts, Karissa, Mez, My Soapbox

    diapers

  • The Door

    Jun 6th 2012

    By: Mez

    3 comments

    Long time readers would probably remember various posts of me going off my nut over the past few years with regards to my mother-in-law’s flagrant disregard for our personal privacy. It was something that I guess I sucked up over the years as for the most part, it was only a temporary arrangement where either we were visiting, or they were.

    If you remember, she’s walked in on me having sex, naked, taking a shit, and probably every other conceivable circumstance bar catching me hunched over my keyboard debasing myself. Perhaps that’s the problem… maybe if she did one day catch me meat in hand, she’d learn to knock and stop barging in like the fucking gestapo. The only way things could get worse would be her tossing a flashbang into the room as a prelude to her surprise entry. Or so I thought.

    Generally, I tolerate the situation as much as I try to get Erica to explain the rocket science of common courtesy to her. Granted, it’s not easy. You know what they say about old dogs / new tricks and all, and so I kept my calm for the most part and restricted my rants to this blog. For after all, knocking before entry is ranked somewhere up there with quantum physics in terms of both comprehension and application.

    However, shit tends to change and change fast when you have a baby. In a nutshell, it’s one thing to inconvenience me. I can live with that. It’s a whole other game to interfere with someone else that I’m both completely responsible for and care about. I already had aired my concerns with E with regards to her parents as to how I know for certain that they will run interference with my game plan for K. They are the sort whom are generally based on instant emotional gratification, not giving two fucks about the consequences as long as someone else has to deal with them. They simply cannot control impulse, which leads to all sorts of problems. They act emotionally and not logically for the most part, and I’m the complete opposite… for the most part. Short term gain, long term pain seems to be their MO.

    So when they arrived a week after the birth of K, things were as I expected. MIL barging in unannounced as per usual, but everyone was still on a high after K’s arrival that I looked past it. The first episode which got my hackles up was when I was in the computer room and my MIL asked me about Erica. I said she’s in the bedroom expressing milk and not to go in. She just ignored me and went “never mind never mind” and barged in. That pissed me off because obviously she doesn’t give a shit about her daughters privacy, and completely ignored what I had said. Anyone remember my post when she barged in on me taking a shit in the toilet and said “never mind never mind” when I yelled at her while she continued to gather the laundry oblivious to my shitting endeavors?

    The next episode had me seeing blood. I was asleep one morning when I thought I heard someone in the room. I groggily looked up, saw the nursery curtain still drawn and the bedroom door still closed, and just thought it was my imagination, and fell back asleep. Later on, a noise stirred me again and I decided to check the baby monitor on my phone. WHERE’S MY FUCKING BABY??!! My MIL had taken it upon herself to sneak into the room when we were sleeping, and simply just steal the baby while she was asleep so she could give it some sun. I was absolutely livid! That crossed every fucking line that there was in my books, and I let Erica know as such. Tell your mother to NEVER, EVER intrude upon or wake the baby unless per our implicit instructions.  Thank god I made the decision to have the nursery in our room as opposed to ourside.

    The latest incident took place yesterday. I was in the computer room after putting the baby to sleep in her cot. It was 11pm and her bedtime. My MIL goes into our bedroom and I thought she was just going to find Erica, and then I see a light cast upon the face of my baby on the PC, where I have a window permanently open with a live feed of her in her cot. WTF??? I head into the bedroom to find that my MIL was FUCKING FACETIMING THE BABY to my sister-in-law and woke the baby up!!! To say I was pissed was an understatement. I was nuclear! I COULD HAVE MURDERED HER!!! How fucking *insults redacted* do you have to fucking be to wake a sleeping baby just so you could fucking facetime it at 11pm when the curtains are drawn and the lights are off!!!

    I let Erica have it. I threw the baby monitor and smashed my keyboard, I was so fucking mad I swear I was tempted to put my fist through my computer monitor. I let her know in no uncertain terms what I thought of her mothers actions, and honestly, if anything like this ever happened again, I’d be tempted to pack my shit up and head back to AU. I told Erica before we had K that I will not tolerate ANYONE running interference with the way I bring up my kids. I’ll put up with a lotta shit from my in-laws, but my kids… no way. They are too precious.

    Now, for my second rant. And this is probably going to polarise some of you, especially those whom have interfaced with me one way or another on this topic. I hope you understand that I’m still pissed over the above saga and that I’m going to sound like a sarcastic and insufferable asshole right now. I apologise in advance, but know that I mean no offence. FUCKING SINGAPOREANS AND THEIR “USE A DOOR LOCK” ANSWER TO EVERYTHING!! What the hell is up with this? You all say it like it’s the answer to the meaning of life! And not only once, but repeatedly, and condescendingly. “Oh why don’t you use a door lock”, “that’s what  door lock is for!”, “DOOR LOCK!”, and many other variations. Again, no offense, but this is just a ridiculously stupid and simplistic answer to all of the above problems and doesn’t fix shit but just inconveniences ourselves.

    First, there is a simple matter of logistics. There are 2 people staying in this room. By constantly locking the door, the other party is likely going to be locked out on multiple occasions, which I assure you, is inconvenient. Secondly, the steriliser is outside and we have to wake up every 3 hours to get things we need to feed the baby. Remembering to lock the door at 4am when you’re groggy as hell is also not that easy.

    Secondly, there is the matter of principles. FUCKING COURTESY! I grew up in Australia were most houses do not have locks on bedroom doors, but yet, everyone knocks! It seems to me that some would think not knocking is acceptable common behaviour. Well I disagree. The inculcation of good habits should work bilaterally, both parents to kids, and kids to parents. Though it seems in asian culture, children, regardless of age, seem completely impotent when it comes to taking a stand against their parents even when it’s for the greater good.

    Thirdly, behaviour modification. Locking the door doesn’t fix anything. She’ll just try and if it’s locked, she’ll move on. Next time, locked, and move on. This just continues until it opens. The root of proper behaviour modification in humans is logic and reason. We’re not fucking dogs, we’re people with high levels of cognitive understanding. The best way to shape a behaviour is to change root cause. Again, some people can’t seem to comprehend the concept of root cause analysis and resolution. I understand that my MIL is old, so that’s one factor which makes resistance to change higher. Second, habit… this habit has been set for the entire life of her children, and possibly before that. Third, continuity. Because their stays are constantly broken up over the course of the year, this makes it harder to inculcate and remember. Its a heuristic that needs time, reminders, and repetition to enforce.

    The matter is made additionally hard due to the language barrier. Because she can’t really speak English, and I can’t speak Mandarin, we can’t really communicate. Erica has to act as that medium. And because Erica can’t stand up to anyone or sound demanding/commanding to save her life, her mother may not fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. So time… changes do happen. I can see it. The frustrating thing is those changes are so damn specific. It’s like, we tell her not to do something. So she doesn’t do that exact something, only to do something similar but slightly different. It’s progress, but slow progress. I understand that her heart is in the right place, but unfortunately, my patience doesn’t stretch wide enough to cover that right now. As I’ve said before. The little patience I have right now is solely dedicated to my daughter and my wife. It’s been a stressful few weeks with non-stop assignments, now exams, lack of sleep, and the in-laws.

    I know this post may sound harsh and disrespectful and that it’s probably not kosher or good form to post it. But that’s my blog. Most of what I type is emotionally driven and captures what I feel at the time I’m posting it. In this case, it’s anger and frustration. I do respect my in-laws, I really do, but only in certain regards. Full respect has to be earned with actions, and not merely by title. Just like I try my hardest to earn their respect, because it means so much to me. They too, have to earn mine.

    Edit: Oh gosh this post was cathartic. I so needed to get this off my chest. Feel much better now. Whew… Thank god for these rant channels.

    All Posts, Family, Karissa, Mez, Rant

    inlaws

  • Fat hypocrits…

    Jun 4th 2012

    By: Mez

    No comments

    The sheer hypocrisy of me telling our dog not to be greedy when she just caught me stuffing my face-hole with pizza at 2am, and woke up from her slumber to beg me for some, is astounding. It’s a pretty ridiculous situation that every dog owner goes through when you think about it, scolding our canine companions for pestering us for food, calling them greedy while here we all are, gluttons personified, gagging ourselves on random chow at every opportunity. Funny how that works. No matter, better live it up now for one day we’ll all suffer the same fate from our monkey overlords.

    On a completely separate note, how the hell do people type anything lengthy on an iPad. This is my first time doing so and trying to touch type on it just blows. Maybe it’s just a practice thing…

    Mez, Random stuff

  • Karissa’s Crib

    Jun 3rd 2012

    By: Mez

    2 comments

    Given that we’re currently in the unfortunate, or fortunate (depends on which way you look at it really), position of having to live with Erica’s parents a cumulative 6 months out of every year, setting up a nursery for the baby proved to be more a challenge in concept than anything else. Ideally, I would rather have the baby sleeping in a separate room from us. Not only would this give her more independence, but also us more privacy and control over the way we would like to condition her. Again, there are pro’s and con’s to the whole stay with you/away from you approach. While the house has a spare room we could have converted into a nursery, this would expose her to complete freedom of access to everyone else in the house.

    And you guessed it, no fucking way was I gonna let that happen. Me being the shotgun bearing anal retentive gatekeeper of all things Karissa, there is no way in hell I was going to leave her in a room unsupervised by herself, knowing for certain that she would be disturbed at every waking moment by someone in the house whether it be my MIL, FIL, any guests, or the helper. However, the only conceivable alternative to this would be to migrate my other precious baby out of the bedroom, and that would be my darling desktop PC. Dammit… why do I have to make such choices!!! Long story short, the baby won.

    Karissa

    If the next one is a boy, there will be much work to be undone!

    The spaghetti bowl of comms gear in the computer room. Now we have to add more hubs, UPS's and PCs to that mess!

    We decided to convert the spare room which is currently being used for both storage and our communications hub to our computer room, and the computer area in our room into the nursery. While not ideal, this would at least allow us to have total supervision over the bub with any uninvited guests having to cross the gauntlet of our bedroom before they can enter the nursery. And I intent to fill that buffer with anti-personnel mines, bear traps and child soldiers. Our bedroom door incidentally has a lock, but I won’t go into that right now because we’d all be here all day. I’ll save that for another mammoth rant post of it’s own.

    It may not sound like a big deal to most, but for me, it’s hard to let go of my PC. Since I was a about 16, the nerd in me has had the luxury of enjoying a PC in my bedroom everyday since. And not just that, I never turn off my PCs. They run 24/7 like they were powering a life support system somewhere. So much so that I actually have trouble sleeping in a silent room without the hum of a CPU fan to lull me to sleep. It’s bizarre I know. But it’s a choice of either box or bub and the latter won. We’ll have the unfortunate pleasure of hearing Karissa scream, and she’ll have the unfortunate pleasure of hearing Erica scream (heh heh heh…).

    We only started setting up the nursery a couple of weeks before Karissa came along. A big part of this was attributed to the stuperstitious nature of the in-laws. Apparently, it’s bad luck or something to do any renovation while the baby is in utero. No drilling, no moving furniture, and god only knows what else. These superstitions were also echoed by my peers at work. Apparently Chinese believe that there is a high correlation between drilling and heart problems, or moving a table and the baby being born with two assholes or something. Either way, they said that we “had” to wait until the baby was born before we could even begin to setup the nursery. “Fuck that” I said… privately.

    And so the moment they left to head back to New Zealand, I got started on the nursery. By this time Erica was pretty heavily pregnant so it was a solo effort to get it all set up. We migrated the PC’s out, picked out some sweet curtains and baby furnishings to divide the internal bedroom space, and set about getting the crib in order.

    It was actually a last minute decision for me to go for the cloud ceiling. I walked in, looked up, and thought wouldn’t it awesome for the baby to see the sky. And so I looked only for ceiling wallpapers that would do the job. Couldn’t find any I was happy with, and thought about just painting it sky blue. And from there, graduated to deciding to paint the whole sky mural with clouds. It mean, c’mon it’s clouds. How hard could it be right? I could probably clusterfuck the whole ceiling and no one would be able to tell the difference.

    The DIY cloud mural

    And so I picked out some nice sky blue paint, white paint, and a glaze to mix with the white to give that ethereal kinda cloud look. The whole thing was a pretty messy endeavour, with 3 coats of blue paint and then the clouds. I tried to measure the paint and glaze proportions for the clouds as per what I read online, but it didn’t turn out. And so just crash mixed it all up to taste in random proportions and thankfully, it worked.

    Crib complete!

    So yeah, for someone who’s artistically retarded, I’m pretty happy with the outcome! Erica had also ordered some pretty sweet wall decals of birds, butterflies and animals, which was an awesome idea for decorating the room. I would have gone with the non-pastel set personally, but well… girls and pastel prints. Nuff’ said. Erica didn’t have too much of an opinion as to what goes where, so left it up to me to go hurling decals randomly at the wall. Not too shabby!

    The interior

    All in all, we’re both pretty proud of the little nursery. Sure it’s tiny and you don’t really have much space to manoeuvre, but there was a whole lotta love and passion that went into making that room just perfect for our little Princess. We just hope she realises when she grows up!

    Family, Karissa, Mez

  • Karissa’s Birth Story

    Jun 2nd 2012

    By: Erica

    1 comment

    Scroll to the bottom for Merrill’s recount of events.

    I can’t believe our baby girl is already 3 weeks old. Time really does flies. I’ve been meaning to write this blog post since we got home from the hospital but it’s not easy to get some time to sit down in front of the PC properly to type. Anyway the initial plan was for a natural birth but due to some personal issues, we decided to opt for induction. I did try to induce labour naturally (eating pineapple, having sex etc) but it didn’t work so off we went to the hospital at midnight on Friday (technically Saturday). Before we left for the hospital, I made sure I had a shower and washed my hair as I wasn’t sure how long labour would take.

    When we arrived at the hospital, we were taken to the delivery suite. I had to be hooked up to the CTG after which the nurse inserted a tablet that contained prostaglandins into me. This is to help ripen the cervix further and to stimulate contractions. At this point I was 1.5cm dilated, same as when I had my checkup the day before. I then had to lie in bed for the next 2 hours. When the 2 hours was up, the nurse came in to administer a fleet enema. After a visit to the toilet, I was allowed to sleep. It was hard to fall asleep though. Partially because of the excitement and partially due to the fact that the hubby was tossing and turning on the extremely uncomfortable sofa bed the whole time. I remember at around 4am I heard a very loud crash outside. It sounded like a car accident so I walked over to the window to take a look. I couldn’t really see anything as my view was blocked by trees so I didn’t think much of it. It was only later at around 6am when the nurse came in to give me some toast for breakfast that she told me it had been a fatal car accident (the one involving the Ferrari and taxi). I was having contractions by now but they weren’t regular and were between 5 – 10 minutes apart.

    At 8am, I told the nurse that I would like a shower to freshen up so I was taken off the CTG. She also recommended I walk around as the gravity can help the baby to move down so throughout the day the hubby and I would take walks around the tiny hospital garden and the maternity floor. My obgyn, Dr. Chow, came to check on me at 11am and I was only 2cm dilated so he inserted another tablet into me. At 2.30pm, he came to check on me again. My contractions were now around 5 minutes apart and I was 3cm dilated. He stretched my cervix and also stripped my membrane but told me most likely I would need to be put on oxytocin. He considered breaking my water bag at this point but in the end decided against it. The nurse came in at 4.30pm to insert the IV needle into me in preparation for the oxytocin. She also recommended that I think about getting an epidural as the contractions would be a lot more intense with the oxytocin. The anaesthetist was in the delivery suite next door so if I wanted one now would be a good time.  Quite a few friends have told me how painful and intense their contractions were with oxytocin so at this point I was tempted to go for an epidural. However I figured since the contractions have been bearable till now, I might as well try without and see how I go. Not to mention I wasn’t too keen on having a big needle poke me in my spine if it could be avoided. They started me on a low dosage of oxytocin which was  to be increased every half an hour. Within an hour, the contractions were 3.5mins apart. At this point my back was also starting to ache so I had the hubby give me back rubs. The funny thing was even though the nurses told me my contractions were quite strong according to the readings, sometimes I couldn’t feel them at all. Which was a good thing I suppose as it allowed me to drift in and out of sleep.

     

    I was Whatsapping my GQ girls throughout the day to update them of labour progress

     

    By 10pm, the contractions were a lot more intense. It felt like very bad period cramps but mostly it was my back that was bothering me. I got up and walked around the room hoping to ease the pain. After an hour of this, I gave in and asked the nurse for entonox. Just when the nurse passed me the mask, Dr Chow came in to check on me. After examining me, he told me that I was still only 3cm dilated. There has been no progress in the labour at all even though I have already been on the oxytocin for 6 hours. The baby was also still very high up so he recommended I go for a csection. If I were to persist on, labour could drag on for another day or more and chances of complications would increase. He also mentioned that it was likely the baby’s head was too big for my pelvis so I might still end up with a csection in the end. At this point I have already been in the hospital for almost 24 hours so after a quick discussion with the hubby, we agreed to the csection.

    Very quickly, I was wheeled to the operating theatre. The anaesthetist asked if I would prefer a spinal or general anaesthesia. Having had a general anaesthesia before when I underwent my laparoscopy, it was tempting to opt for it as it would all be over before I knew it. However this meant that the hubby would not be able to be in the operating theatre with me which is something that I knew he really wanted. Most importantly, I would not be able to hold my baby the moment she came out. The spinal it is then. Anyone who had an epidural before would tell you that it’s not a pleasant experience and a spinal anaesthesia is similar. I had to keep my back curled up into a C and make sure I did not move when given the injection. Not an easy thing to do considering I had a big belly in the way and also coz it really hurt when the needle was inserted. The first time I couldn’t stop myself from wincing so the anaesthetist had to remove the needle and re-insert it. When the anaesthetic was injected in, I had the sensation of an electric shock going all the way down my legs. Not pleasant. Shortly after, I started feeling pins and needles before the numbness set in. At this point, I started to panic a little and started to regret not going for a GA. It was a very scary feeling not being able to feel the lower half of your body at all and the numbness also made it harder to breathe. I had to concentrate on my breathing in order not to hyperventilate. Dr Chow then started cutting into me before the hubby finally came into the operating theatre.

    My memory of what happened after is kinda hazy as I think the anaesthetic made me groggy. I remember Dr Chow talking to me but I either didn’t reply him or took a long time to do so. I also remember the hubby holding my hand throughout the operation. At one point a nurse got behind me and started pushing hard on my stomach. I vaguely knew that it was to push the baby down. I then heard Dr Chow say that the baby’s shoulders were stuck. There was more pushing and the next thing I remember was someone saying that the baby was out followed by a baby cry shortly after. That is pretty much all that I can remember about the csection so I will leave the hubby to fill in the blanks.

     

    Karissa enters the world

    Getting cleaned up

    She looks like a little zombie baby here!

     

    After the nurses cleaned up the baby, they put her on my chest. I remember looking at her and being in disbelief that our baby girl has finally arrived. I could not believe how my heart could be so filled with love for someone so tiny and whom I have just met. My tears would not stop flowing as I was so overwhelmed with emotions. I knew then that I made the right decision not to have a GA. That moment was just too precious to give up.

     

    Our first family portrait in the operating theatre

     

    So this is the story of how our baby girl came into this world. While I was disappointed I ended up having a csection, it didn’t really matter in the end. What’s important is that she made it out safely and is healthy.

    Karissa Jiaxin Yap was born on 12 May 2012 at 2342 measuring 49cm and weighing 3.4kg. She is perfect.

     

    Back in the ward after getting stitched up

     

    Merrill’s Edit: Daddy’s Recount

    D Day was for the most part, a largely uneventful day. Much waiting… much frustration… much fist shaking at my wife’s uterus. By nightfall on the day, I wished the doctor had been blessed with divine powers and could part Erica’s birth canal like the red sea and order Karissa to come marching through. Unfortunately, he was only blessed with the power to administration  Oxytocin and managed to part her by a meager 3cm over the course of 22 hours. We were admitted just after midnight on the 12th, and I had spent the whole night curled up on a broken delivery room recliner like a domesticated feline. While I don’t have much recollection of falling into a deep slumber, I assume I did as I must have been the only person at Raffles that slept through the horrific Ferrari collision just outside our window. This was probably a good thing too, as I would have without doubt headed straight down with my camera and stumbled upon the gruesome scene.

    It was an uneasy day as I wasn’t sure if or when the contractions would suddenly kick up a notch, or if Erica would suddenly go into pain and need me to assist. While I wanted to venture next door to Bugis to get some real food, I didn’t want to be away from her just in case the action started. My day was largely spent kicking around the room and taking Erica for laps around the Raffles garden courtyard. I actually really enjoyed those small walks, as short and simple they were.

    Every time the nurse came to do a check up, I hoped beyond hope that her lady bits had saw fit to suddenly dilate in an accelerated manner over the last few hours. Unfortunately, progression was minimal. It started to look like it would be an extremely protracted labour that could stem well into the next day, or worse, the day after. The baby was still very high, contractions were far and dilation still stuck at 3cm. Things all changed in a heartbeat when Dr Chow marched in at 11pm and said “It’s clobbering time!”, or something to that effect… It kinda shook me up a little bit. Here I was preparing for nothing to happen for the next many hours, and suddenly here the doctor was telling us the baby is coming out now! To say I was excited would be a massive understatement! Firstly, they asked me if I wanted to be in the operating theatre with Erica. Of course I said yes! Then they asked me again if I was sure, and if I would faint at the sight of blood. This was a serious matter as they have had many husbands before passing out at the sight of all the blood. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be one of them, but well… guess you never know.

    They whisked Erica out of the room and the nurses told me to meet them down on Level 7. I asked them if I should bring the camera, they said I couldn’t take pics in the operating theatre but that I could take photos after. They told me that I could come up later and get my gear. I arrived down to Level 7 and got all suited and booted to be by Erica’s side in the operating room. When I met up with Dr Chow just after I got changed, he asked me if I brought my camera. I told him it was a big DSLR and that the nurses said I could get it later, but if I could photograph the op, then I could go get it now. He seemed hesitant and explained that cameras weren’t technically allowed in theatre, and asked if I had a phone camera with me. I said yes, but it sucked, and that I had a compromise of the two, a the Sony Nex-5N, that I would be able to hide underneath my scrubs. He seemed a little hesitant, but agreed. Whew…

    So basically I got my camera and waited to be ordered by the nurse into the theatre. When I finally do get in there, the operation was already well under way with Erica being carved up like a side of beef. I was directed to a stool next to her where I proceeded to hold her hand for the entire operation. Dr Chow said to me that I could only film from the moment the baby was taken out, and to get the camera ready as it would happen very quickly. And so I left the camera rolling as you can see from the video. Dr Chow kept talking to Erica, probably to gauge how lucid she was, but she wasn’t really responding. He was asking her if she worked out as her core seemed very strong. I don’t know what he saw, but all I could here right now was a very loud “SNUK SNUK SNUK” as they cut/sliced/severed her musculature in order to get the baby out. The sound gave me goosebumps.

    I don’t know what people’s pre-conceptions of a caesarean operation is, but it’s far from what I thought it would be. I thought it would be an extremely delicate operation. It wasn’t. The sheer amount of force involved in getting Karissa out was incredible. The male nurse as can be seen in the video was standing over her, repeatedly shoving down hard to I imagine push or assist the baby down, as K was sitting very high. And even once Karissa’s head was out, it took a surprising amount of time for the rest of her body to be evacuated. It seemed like she was stuck in there. Again… the force. While a little disconcerting, these are all experienced personnel and I have complete trust in them. And so I sat, prayed, stared and grabbed Erica’s hand even tighter… and filmed of course.

    And then she was out.  Our baby… our precious gooey grey zombie baby. When I heard her first cry, I suddenly felt like I was taking my first breath in an eternity. All my fears, all my worries… they all disappeared when that first wail burst from her lungs. The feeling was simply incredible. They placed her straight on the table to wipe her down and shove tubes in her face. I’m guessing that it’s to clear the liquid from her various airways now that she’ll be powering up her lungs for the very first time. Babies are truly a miracle of god’s creation. This tiny being spending months sightless and in blackness, surviving only via her placental lifeline. Then suddenly, she’s pulled from the comfort of her watery sanctuary into the world with no preparation. Light… sound… touch… taste… smell. The 5 senses all combining to hit her hard for the first time. Her muted awareness of the world shattered like a bolt of lightning. Lungs that she’s never had to ever use suddenly fired up for the first time in the short span of a few heartbeats. It’s do or die. And it’s simply amazing.

    I couldn’t cut the cord, officially, because we needed to retain as much cord blood as possible for the stem cells. So they reserved just a little for me to cut. That thing is tough as you can see! It’s like cutting through a hose with safety scissors. Once that was done, mummy and daughter were united for the first time. Even within the stark confines of the operating theatre, it was a moment that was so… real, so beautiful. I couldn’t even begin to describe it such as would do it justice. The moment was for lack of a better word… raw. It seemed like every emotion that I’ve witnessed in my life until now had been censored… edited… muted. This was moment that was as raw and uncut as could ever be. This was purity.

    This… is my family.

     

    Erica, Karissa, Mez

  • Baby Making

    Jun 1st 2012

    By: Mez

    9 comments

    Tits. That’s how this whole journey really started. One could look at the catalyst from any perspective for how our little poopsploding darling came to be, and they would all probably be correct. But that was the first word that popped into my head when I started impulse typing, and so I’ll let the chips (or tits), lie where they fell. The journey of our darling daughter began with boobs. Erica’s splendid boobs specifically. Boobs that jiggled and jangled on my mobile phone screen while I fisted my manhood in purpose and desperation, and in the stanky confines of the mens toilets in the Raffles Men’s health clinic, just so I could fill that damn specimen cup. And that my dear Karissa… is a big part of the story of how you were born. But you can read more about the said fisting episode in my 2010 (gosh was it really that long ago??) post on it. It’s the stuff of romance novels it is.

    One Guy, One Cup

    I can’t believe it was 2010 when this whole journey began. I remember wanting to document it at the time, and in retrospect, I probably should have while the memory was still fresh. I still remember spending the night in contorted agony in a Raffles Hospital day bed when I accompanied Erica for her laparoscopy. I can’t remember what that actually is now, except that the first thing that comes to mind is a surgical procedure that involves shoving a camera up a werewolf’s ass. I remember sitting there in the room and about to bang out a post… but didn’t. Oh well, story of my blogging life. But Erica ended up documenting some of it so yay.

    Prelude to my IVF journey

    From there, it was the decision of how we best wanted to approach assisted conception. The first was IUI which involves, as per my layman understanding, machine gunning her eggs with my sperm like Arnie storming the mansion in the climax of Commando. The problem with this is the high chance of multiple pregnancies. Twins, triplets, octoplets… you name it. It could be like a fucking salmon hatchery. Now that’s a scary thought. The other option, IVF. A more controlled and precise method of externally fertilizing the eggs in a petrie dish (as my imagination tells me), and transferring the subsequent developed embryo back into the Erica’s oven/uterus. We opted for the latter. We transferred 2 embryos across and were truly blessed with first time success.

    Karissa as an embryo freshly implanted into her new home/oven

    And really… that was the end of my input into the whole process. Busting a nut into a cup. For Erica, it had just begun. Non-stop hormone injections, innumerable pills that she had to take, minor surgery, and various medical instruments being shoved up her cooter to get Karissa in there. It’s all very medical so I best not try my hand at interpreting it. She starting writing her experiences here, but I’m not exactly sure how far she got.

    My IVF Journey I

    I remember when we first got news that she was pregnant, it took all everything I had not to go shouting it to the world. I didn’t want to count my chickens before they were hatched because the chances of a miscarriage is always relatively high. We counted by each passing week with breathless anticipation as each passing moment meant that her chances at successful development were increasing. The first milestone was at 12 weeks where we could finally announce with relative security that we were pregnant. It was a great feeling.

    2nd Trimester and announcement time!

    The next came at 20 weeks where we discovered that we were having a baby girl. We were absolutely ecstatic. Erica really wanted a girl more than anything else. Me, although I would prefer a boy, just wanted Erica to be happy. So when the sonographer confirmed that it was a girl, and I saw Erica tearing at the news, well… best news ever. We were both absolutely over the moon. We only want 2 kids, and beyond that, the only combination I did not want was 2 boys. Being 1 of 2 sons, I know what a pain in the ass it was for my mum. So now that the first one is a girl, the pressure was off. It doesn’t matter what the next is, we would both be completely happy. But, I know that Erica would not have been as emotionally overcome if it was a boy, so I’m very thankful that the first was what it was.

    It’s a girl!!!

    And the next 19 weeks after that just seemed to fly by. Apart from the hormone treatments and stuff, Erica’s pregnancy has been extremely easy thank god. No cravings, minimal weight gain, and no nausea. During the course of her pregnancy she only gained about 9kg. Me, I don’t know how the hell but I gained 5 kg during her pregnancy as well. Fuck sympathetic weight gain. I think I was more depressed than she was as I couldn’t fit into my pants any longer and had no good reason for it.

    I remember during her close  friend Brenda’s wedding, I couldn’t fit into any of my suits, and as such had to wear black jeans. Argh…. Mez you fat bastard. But every cloud has a silver lining. Because of this grotesque period of waist expansion, I came to discover an incredible secret, a veritable modern miracle in essence, that infernal womenfolk have been hiding from us men for the longest time now. SECRET SPANDEX!!! They actually have denim jeans with a spandex percentage!! WTF RIGHT?? OMG!!! I tried on a pair of 7 For All Mankind spandex jeans and OMFGGGGGGG!!!! It was like I had died and gone to comfy heaven! The 2+% spandex felt sooo amazing. I could even do a full roundhouse kick without feeling like my pants were gonna split or my genitalia launching through the crotch like an cruise missile! Women! What else are you hiding!

    Good news however, I’ve lost 4kg over the last 3 weeks since Karissa was born and can now once again fit into most of my old pants. Whew… balance has almost been restored.

    Anyway I started typing this post in the afternoon, and baby K decided that she wanted to be fussy for the rest of the day. So I can’t remember what the hell else I was going to add. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll get round to it piecemeal eventually. Don’t know if it’s a 3 week growth spurt or the attempted transition to wean her off bottle feeding, but she’s been extremely fussy yesterday and today. Stark contrast to the Angel she’s been since day 1. Oh well, so it begins. I need sleep… She hasn’t pooped all day and it’s now 11pm. I sense a titanic 3am poop nuke en route :( Sigh…

    But then, how could I possibly get annoyed at this?

    My Lil’ Angel

     

    All Posts, Karissa, Mez

  • Welcome to Team Merrica

    Jun 1st 2012

    By: Mez

    6 comments

    Well it’s been well over a year since I last blogged. Don’t get me wrong, god knows I’ve wanted to, but it’s been a very long 2011 with full time work, part time study, and a pregnant wife all sucking away what little free time I’ve had. There has been many anecdotes gone untold, whinges gone unranted, high horses unridden, and all manner of general inappropriateness unshared.

    Since then, I’ve become a new father (as of 2.5 weeks ago), and quit my job while converting to full time study so as to focus on raising our wonderful baby girl Karissa over the 1st year of her life. My short experience with fatherhood so far has been one that is simply beyond words. However, given how fast she’s grown even in these 2 short weeks, I intend to redouble my efforts to post and document her growth so that I’ll never forget these amazing but yet still fleeting moments that will be like a breath in the wind.

    Erica and I have decided to post under the same blog as we’re largely going to be posting the same things. So at least this way she’ll be able to edit my posts with her thoughts, and I’ll be able to ninja insert naked boobs in hers. Hopefully between us we’ll be able to better capture our daughter’s journey from infancy to adulthood. And along the way, hopefully I’ll be able to get back into my generally inappropriate posting stride.

    This blog will hopefully be finalised over the coming eternity. This wordpress layout is just a temporary setup to get our stuff off LJ as quickly as possible because they suck (sadly I couldn’t import all the comments from LJ). We’re also in the process of sorting and categorising all historical posts from LJ so the blog map heirarchy right now is mostly mine and a mess. I’m also sure Erica won’t want pedobear as a blog header so I can’t imagine that staying for long.

    If there’s one thing that parenthood has taught me, is that it’s the greatest team event there ever was. While it’s possible to get away as a union of 2 autonomous individuals in marriage, if you were so inclined, there is no room for this with a baby. For all parties to be happy, the unit really needs to be a well oiled, communicating and selfless machine. Everyone has to not just pull their weight, but know why they have to do so. They have to each want to do the dirtiest task possible, for no other reason than so the one they love doesn’t have to do it. They need to trust each other implicitly with no second guessing, because both parties have exactly the same stakes in this venture. The same to gain, but more importantly, the same to lose. They have to truly be a team.

    So here we are… the first chapter of a new era. The players have been picked, it’s time for kick off and the whistle has just blown. Lets do it! Team Merrica, FUCK YEAH!

     

    All Posts, Family, Mez

  • TURTLE SOUP HAS MOVED!

    May 31st 2012

    By: Mez

    No comments

    ABANDON THE LIVEJOURNAL SHIP!!!!

    This blog has now moved for the simple reason that LJ sucks gorilla testicles. This blog has now moved to http://teammerrica.com where Erica and I have decided to let our powers combine. Hopefully her mature sensibilities will give balance to my smarmy perverseness. The new blog is in a current state of half-assedness which I will hopefully find time to complete within the next millennium.

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