KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Chopsticks. I don't hold mine correctly. Neither does Little Sissy Pham. Do you know who holds chopsticks perfectly? Big Brother Pham. You know why? Because he had our parents all to himself for the first four years until I came along and ruined everything. When I rocked up, my parents were chasing after a super active, wild toddler and Mum Pham was pregnant again a couple of months after I was born so I was left to figure chopsticks out myself when I had enough hand coordination to try.

All this is to say that Baby Pham will be an only child. Boyfriend Pham was an only child growing up and loved it, so he's always wanted a kid. Singular. My sister is my best friend and my brother is highly tolerable so I would have like to try for another baby if we had managed to get pregnant when we first started trying five years ago. But now I am an unfit 40 who didn't carry pregnancy well. I couldn't lift or actively play with 2-year-old Nephew Pham for nearly two trimesters and I don't want to miss out on playing with Baby Pham during his peak cute toddler year. I dread what recovery would be like after another pregnancy and delivery for my 40-something body if we could get pregnant again.

So instead of a sibling, I tell myself that Baby Pham will learn to hold chopsticks correctly because we'll have time and attention to teach him. He will be loved, adored and have his doting parents all to himself for many years... until he becomes a grumpy teen and moves to the bedroom at the other end of the house and wants nothing to do with us for a while.

Before we had a baby, we would be asked if we wanted / planned / tried to make babies. Now that we have Baby Pham, a common question is 'Will you have another?' I don't mind this question, it's natural for people who meet my chunky monkey of a baby to want more versions of him with equal or greater chunkiness. He's a very cute baby if I do say so myself.

Little Sissy Pham did not have such a good time with this type of questioning because people she crossed paths with felt entitled to tell her she should have another baby. She has her reasons for only having one baby that's not my business to share. I do wonder if people don't tell me I should have another kid the way they used to, because the cost of living crisis is now a thing, and the financial pressure of raising children is immense. 

Our IVF doctor said we'd ultimately want more children after our first baby so the kids could play with each other. Bless him for helping us make Baby Pham, but he's wrong. We rather delight in playing with Baby Pham - I enjoy learning the world through his eyes, and Boyfriend Pham is always inventing new ways to play with bub. I don't think we'd make a sibling just so we can spend less time with our son. That said, we've kept our frozen embryos so we have the option because it's early days and people say it's too soon to decide either way if we're unsure.

I took Baby Pham to visit the work crew and one of my colleagues asked when I'd gotten engaged. I forgot I'd started wearing a ring on my ring finger because it no longer fit on my middle finger. I told him my fingers got fat after pregnancy and they haven't deflated to the size they used to be. I have no plans to marry.

Boyfriend Pham isn't a huge romantic by any stretch of the imagination. He compliments me by comparing me to food. He's really into carbs: pizza, pita, roti, milk buns, tortillas - if it has any type of flour, he's down. So when he tells me I'm a "fancy loaf" that's about as close to sweet-talk as we get.

Keep this in mind when I tell you that one day when we were in the car, I think he was driving and I was the passenger. He looked over and told me, "You can marry me if you want." Then looked back at the road. What? The audacity! He said it as a joke, but he also would marry me if that's what I wanted. Luckily for both of us, I'm too frugal to get married so that flop of a proposal isn't our proposal story. 

If I want more legal rights then I'd opt for power of attorney over marriage since commitment isn't an issue for us. We've bought a home together, share all our finances, adopted a cowardly little lion (Rei Pham) and we now share our genes with Baby Pham so we're linked for life even if we break up. That's commitment enough for me. It's now an ongoing joke whenever he does something to annoy me, I say I want a divorce and he says I have to marry him first.

If Mum Pham were around I'd marry Boyfriend Pham so Mum could have a big-ass wedding, invite every person who has ever crossed her path, and months of bragging rights. Mum Pham only had a small wedding being a refugee in Germany. I'd have spent tens of thousands of dollars to make her happy. But Mum isn't around now I've found someone worth marrying, and Dad Pham does not give a crap about matrimony so I'll use my money to pay down our mortgage.

So Baby Pham is a bastard. My bastard. If he wants his parents to marry when he's older, then I would consider it. But for now, it's not a priority. 

One thing I wasn't prepared for being a primary carer for Baby Pham was sun-damaged hands. I suppose there are many more important things to talk about when it comes to raising a baby, which is why I was never warned that new mums (and dads) have an equivalent to a Trucker's Arm. This, my friend, is what I call Pram Hands.

Pushing the pram around every day in the sun led my previously healthy, office worker hands to become a dry and crusty dark brown. I learned to pile on the sunscreen pre-walk and then moisturise post-walk to keep my hands from shrivelling up due to prolonged sun exposure. Not a problem I had when I walked with my hands swinging by my sides without a care in the world, before my hands started keeping another being safe and well.

This was a short-lived first world problem for new parent life, because around 8 months old, Baby Pham got over being in the pram so we stopped going for daily walks. These days I only walk to local activities and shops a couple of times a week. Most of the time when I try to take him out in a pram, I end up wearing him in a carrier and the pram is used to push around his nappy bag. I kinda miss my Pram Hands days - the passive exercise of walking was good for my mental and physical health.

I was a wreck the first six weeks with Baby Pham. The anxiety and fear and worry over keeping Baby alive and thriving was crippling. I've never experienced anxiety before. Sure, I've been nervous before big life milestones or changes, but I've never had my nerves shake me to the point where they impacted my decision-making and actions (or inaction). 

Simple things I did before suddenly became overwhelming with the added baby logistics - pram, car seat, carrier, nappies, outfit changes, bibs, bottles. The rational side of me knew millions of parents did this every day. The irrational side of me couldn't see how I could possibly manage it. 

The lack of sleep didn't help, but I don't think that was the main factor. I was full of raging hormones and while I had wild hormones during pregnancy, I only had to care about feeding and sleeping myself then. Postpartum I had a tiny, fragile human whose life literally depended on me being switched on because he hadn't yet learned how to feed and poop and sleep outside the safety of a womb. The pressure of this responsibility crushed me. 

My main outings with Baby were to his medical appointments. Baby was thriving despite his reflux while Mum was struggling with her mental health. 

Our GP told me to get out of the house, the more I do it, the easier it will get. Sounds simple enough, yet felt unachievable to me at the time. The child health nurses gave me a plethora of support services for new parents after I made it to a drop-in clinic without Boyfriend Pham for the first time and burst into tears. Boyfriend Pham had accompanied us all the other times but he was back in the office by then. 

The main message I understood was to "Find your village" and connect with the community. I always thought this meant family and friends but being isolated on the Northside of Brisbane I didn't have my Southside siblings around. Instead, I ended up signing up for a bunch of different services and connected with other new parents in my local area. 

My all-time favourite has been the Pregnancy Counselling Link's Koala Joeys Program which was recommended to me by a Girl's Night friend. Baby Pham and I went religiously every week. The only times we skipped was when one of us (usually both of us) was sick. 

Peach Tree in Nundah was another sanity saver. I went to their parents and bubs yoga until Baby Pham got too active and disruptive to the classes. But while he was barely crawling, it was bliss being able to stretch and relax my tense muscles with yoga while he played on a playmat or lay beside my yoga mat. 

Queensland Health provided a number of services that are opt-in.  I joined a mother's group where they connected a bunch of us who had babies within a month of each other and lived in the general area. I also opted in for their Circle of Security program because Little Sissy Pham recommended it having gone through the learning with her bub. 

All of is lengthy post is to say, find local support programs near you. It helped me get out of the postpartum depression hole I was in, and I've made a few mum friends who I plan to stay in touch with once I'm no longer on parental leave. 

Boyfriend Pham and I aren't married - hence, calling him Boyfriend instead of Husband - and his surname isn't Pham. Even though I love my name - Jade Pham, short, sharp and to the point - there are a bazillion Phams out there and thousands of Jade Phams because 'Ngoc' meaning jade is a very common Vietnamese first name.

When it came to picking a surname for Baby Pham, it was a no-brainer. Boyfriend Pham's surname is so unique he's related to everyone in Australia who has his surname. So: decision made. No patriarchal reasons. If I had a less generic surname, I'd have used mine. If you know a Pham in Australia, chances are I am NOT related to them. The surname was easy.

The first name was a little trickier to pick when we had every name in the whole wide world to choose from. But once I put together a short list of names, we quickly realised we don't like most names. We whittled the list down to two options. One option we'd 'matched' on Baby Name App (a Tinder-style app) where we swiped yes or no to names we liked. It was our only match. The other option was the only name Boyfriend Pham didn't cross off my shortlist.

When people asked about Baby Pham's name before he arrived, we'd tell them we were tossing up between two options (without revealing what the options were). By the time I was in the birthing suite, I was pretty confident I'd ruled out the Tinder-style baby name - I'd only swiped yes because it sounded cute but have you met me? I may make a cute baby with my off-the-chart wide chubby cheeks, but he's very unlikely to grow up to be cutesy. If Boyfriend Pham and I live up to our expectations of ourselves as his parents, Baby Pham will be confident, kind and smart. So we chose a name that's direct and to the point like we are.

So far he's living up to his name. I wish I could share his face with you because he has very stern eyebrows when he's considering things. You'll just have to trust me that our little dumpling gives the People's Eyebrow vibes:

Little Sissy Pham told me life with Nephew Pham got easier around the 3-month mark when he started to sleep better and generally be more robust. For us, it was around the 4-month mark.

The first 9 weeks were terrible because Baby Pham had reflux, which meant he couldn't be put down flat on his back to nap or sleep for about an hour after feeding (unless we wanted him to wake himself up vomiting and needing a change and being very upset). There was maybe a 5-minute window where he could comfortably do tummy time each day and I felt so guilty that I didn't put him down as much as guidelines tell us to (I fretted for nothing, Baby Pham was on his tummy almost nonstop at 4 months, and commando crawling like a champ by 5 months - a couple of months before babies usually start covering big distances with intention. He went from being most immobile to the most mobile baby in the few regular playgroups we go to).

Once he outgrew his reflux (he still spat up a lot until around 7 months), Baby Pham started having trouble pooping and would have inconsolable screaming fits before each bowel movement. That lasted a few awful weeks until I learned from our GP that he was getting too much foremilk from my boobs and it was giving him lactose overload and upsetting his belly. Then he went from belly aches before poops to explosive diarrhea that slipped out in sharts and poops - our nappy bill doubled for two months until we introduced solids at 4 months.

Around the 4 month mark when his eating and bowel movements settled, I finally felt like I got the hang of this infant parenting thing. Which is to say, anything bad? You just gotta wait it out. Babies grow so fast by the time you adjust what you're doing you don't know whether the change you made helped or if Baby outgrew the issue.

Boy, did Baby Pham have a poor streak of luck between 5-8 months. It all kicked off with his first round of teething around the 5-month mark. Every week there was something new for the next three months and counting...

Teething two bottom teeth, baby's first virus, windburn dribble rash that turned into eczema, teething top two middle teeth (one took 5 agonising days to cut through), second virus, teething round three, ear infection from swimming lessons (antibiotic ear drops were needed to fix this), third virus, food allergy hives outbreak... I'm bracing myself for what's next.

All of the above triggered overnight sleep issues. Poor bub was so uncomfortable he'd wake up every hour not able to resettle or connect his sleep cycles. Hence, this mum not writing blog entries for half a year. I have never been so exhausted and brain-dead in my life. I'm also the happiest and most fulfilled I've ever been in my life so: worth it. Though, in the sleepless nights and zombie days, what keeps me going is knowing that whatever the current hurdle is, it will pass. I'll do my best to move it along, but most of the time there are no quick fixes so I just have to try my best and wait it out.

Every baby is different, which is why all the parenting books give out varying and often conflicting advice. The first eight weeks (aka newborn phase) were pretty much a roller coaster of anxiety, trying to interpret Baby's needs and adapting to them but never really knowing if what we did improved things or made them worse or Baby Pham just moved onto the next thing despite every effort.

The downside of growing up without much exposure to new babies and new parent life meant Boyfriend Pham and I fumbled around in the dark for a lot of it. Little Sissy Pham had forgotten a lot of the newborn nuances of her baby by the time we met ours.

Pretty much all of newborn parenting was an anxiety-riddled worryfest where we guessed Baby's needs and tried our best to roll with the punches. The one time in life, you wish everyone wasn't unique so we could have a 'how to baby' manual. I asked Little Sissy and Sister-Not-In-Law for their experiences and sometimes what worked for their bubs worked for us, sometimes it didn't and we had to try something different.

Baby Pham was mix-fed formula and breastmilk from day 5 of his life. As soon as he started feeding, we learned he had bad (though not severe enough for medication) reflux and couldn't be put down to sleep because he was uncomfortable. There was a lot of contact naps and even contact overnight sleeps with him on me in a reclined nursing chair and pillows everywhere so he wouldn't fall if I dropped him in my sleep. Thankfully no scares or close calls, mum hormones and instincts kept me semi-conscious even as I slept with him in my arms. We tried our best to follow recommendations (sleep baby flat on back in bassinet with no loose items that can be choking hazards), but sometimes you just gotta do what you need to get by.

The first eight weeks were terrifying and exhilarating, and I'm so glad to be out of that intense phase. The number of decisions you have to make on behalf of a baby that can only communicate through crying while getting very little rest or sleep is overwhelming at the best of times and crippling at the worst of times. Experienced parents tell us the next baby is easier because you know what to expect, which is basically a free-for-all unstructured shitshow where you hang on to the edge of your seat and hope to make it to the end of the show. Good luck, first-time parents! I wish you all the best with your trial by fire.

I've never felt so out of my depth before in my life coming home with Baby Pham in tow. There's so much support and scrutiny when you're pregnant, and while you're delivering the baby and then... you're on your own, kid. Except you're no longer the kid and you have a tiny fragile newborn kid that you have to somehow keep alive and thriving for the rest of your life.

I spent two nights in the hospital after giving birth because I needed to prove I could pee on my own the next day, and Baby Pham had to pass 24 hours of blood glucose tests because I had gestational diabetes.

The first night in hospital Baby Pham was sleepy from his exhausting journey to the outside world. The second night was torture for me with Baby's cluster feeding - I could not put him down or he'd start screaming. I'd been told about cluster feeding but I didn't understand it'd be a 5-7 day marathon I'd have to run immediately after giving birth. They don't specify that no sleep will be had with a newborn that's trying to bring in breast milk.

It was surreal coming home with a newborn that a couple of nights ago was in my belly. As Boyfriend Pham and I left the hospital we pushed Baby to the ward entrance in his trolley as per hospital rules for moving around with babies - carrying Baby in arms while walking about was a no-no. The nurse took the trolley and told us, "You're discharged. You make up the rules now." And so we walked out of the hospital with me carrying Baby Pham and Boyfriend Pham carrying our luggage. He drove us home while I sat in the back next to our teeny, tiny newborn in his gigantic-seeming car seat. We arrived home, took Baby inside and looked at each other. "Now what?"

'What' was and has been determined by Baby Pham ever since.

At first, he was hungry and wanted to feed constantly to bring in my breastmilk. The first night at home, I sat up all night with bub on the couch trying to let Boyfriend sleep but he could hear Baby wailing all night. The second night at home I sat with bub in the nursing chair and when Boyfriend checked in on us at 3:30am, I was sobbing and feeling like I was failing our baby because my milk wasn't coming in. We decided to give him formula that I'd bought as a 'just-in-case' from Day 5 onwards. And so, the nurse's parting words came true, we began to make up our own rules as parents to our newborn Baby Pham.

I haven't had many opportunities let alone the brain capacity to write blogs with Baby Pham taking up my every waking moment. I have, however, had plenty of time to sit in the dark in a nursing chair cuddling my baby at godawful hours, pondering random life things like what if I chop off all my hair to save blow-drying it and also, why didn't my postpartum hair loss thin it out more so there'd be less to maintain? Or what if I try to keep Baby Pham awake before dinner or let him nap for longer or let him nap for shorter to see if that helps his bedtime sleeping? (In reality, he does whatever the fuck he wants and some nights he'll nap before dinner and go to bed right after while other nights he naps and is up for two hours after dinner, then yet on other nights he won't nap before dinner and also won't go to sleep after dinner.)

Yes, I spent many sleepless nights pondering how to get Baby to sleep more so I, too, can get more sleep. But I don't think I'll ever figure it out and eventually Baby Pham will just sort himself out when he's ready. So then I move on to other thoughts. One of them is how I would approach blogging about my life while respecting Baby Pham's privacy. My world revolves around baby now, if I didn't write about him then I wouldn't have anything to blog about. Though I've decided with Boyfriend Pham to keep Baby Pham offline so I won't be sharing any identifiable information about him or images of him. The 2000 photos I already have (not an exaggeration) will remain locked away.

We aren't sharing Baby Pham's face on our private social media accounts either. We will wait until he's old enough to understand the risks of being visible online and capable of giving consent. If you're a Phamly friend reading this and don't want to wait almost two decades to know what my chunky monkey looks like, feel free to message me. If you're a stranger passing by my blog, you can look up the Boy Scout named Russell in the animated movie UP - our little dumpling looks a lot like Russell but with a naturally formed mohawk.

What happened immediately after Baby Pham was out of my womb is a bit of a blur as I write this four months later (I am posting this 7 months later, this year has been a blur). I will try and record what I can remember.

The midwives immediately placed Baby Pham on my chest once they checked he was alive and well. His little chin quivered and he cried. One of the midwives moved him to my right breast but he wouldn't latch. She started trying to express colostrum without asking my permission or telling me what she was doing and I yelped in pain when she pinched my boob. I didn't see it coming because I only had eyes for Baby Pham. I had moved him over to my left breast because Boyfriend Pham was on my left and I wanted Baby as near to him as possible. Thankfully, while she was just starting to try and express colostrum from my right boob, Baby Pham latched onto my left so she left me alone with Baby and Dad after only one pinch. This was the only misstep by the midwives in an otherwise great birthing experience.

I opted to get an injection to force the placenta out rather than wait for my hormones to manage it naturally. I'm grateful for the critical role my placenta performed in bringing bub to me, but I wasn't emotionally attached to it - nor did I want to eat it, or plant it or any of the other things people do with their placentas. Birthing the placenta was a really weird sensation after feeling such heavy pressure there from a solid baby moments earlier. The placenta was a flexible blob so it simply slipped out of me without the need to bear down. I asked to see my placenta out of curiosity. I'd heard of other mums whose placenta deteriorated towards the end of pregnancy. Mine was healthy and kinda looked like a red steak. Nature. How bizarre.

We stayed like this with Baby Pham for a while because we had to wait for a senior surgeon to come and have a look at my two second-degree tears. The one on my perineum the doctor stitched up but the other tear that ran millimetres from my urethra and clitoris needed someone more senior to look at.

Eventually, Boyfriend Pham cut the umbilical cord and watched Baby get checked and weighed, while the senior surgeon assessed my damage and decided I didn't need surgery so stitched me up on the spot. The midwives seemed proud that I hadn't taken any pain medication for birth and the doctors were impressed I breathed through the local anesthetic injections in sensitive areas of my genitals. I'm lucky I have a high pain tolerance, it would have made the unpleasant experience even worse.

Boyfriend Pham advocated for skin-on-skin time with Baby while I had a shower made a little awkward by my catheter (they weren't sure if I could pee or not with the tear so near my uretethra). I suppose this was a second misstep by the midwives that they didn't offer or suggest skin-on-skin time for the father while I was preoccupied.

Overall, we had a wonderful birth experience and the hospital team handled our hurdles and hiccups with care and confidence. Giving birth was the most intense experience of my life, and it was worth it to meet my little man on the other side.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

 

Baby Pham was induced a day before his due date because he gave us all a scare with decreased fetal movement and a sporadic heart rate. He was meant to be induced a day earlier after my check-in with a midwife spiralled into a trip to the hospital and nearly having an emergency c-section. The c-section was called off literally at the last minute because Baby's heart rate stabilised and I was meant to be induced that day but the Birth Centre was too busy to take me.

Instead, I spent a restless night in the maternity ward listening to new mums with their newborns, while I was hooked up for two additional CTG rounds to make sure Baby's heart rate remained normal. The next morning, I was moved from the maternity ward to the birth suite with the midwife and a student doctor.

The midwife was the same one we saw the day before at our regular check-in - she'd referred us to the hospital to check on Baby's decreased movements in my belly. She offered to break my waters and get the show on the road but I wanted to wait for Boyfriend Pham so we could share the whole birth experience from start to finish. I'd told Boyfriend Pham to take it easy before he came in that morning because it would be a big day for all three of us - and possibly his last chance to relax in a long while. So, Boyfriend fixed his car and chilled at home for a bit before coming to the hospital with a pit stop at the coffee cart.

After my caffeine hit, my waters were broken - the sensation of it gushing out was very weird, though not as odd as birthing the placenta that night. The midwife started my synthetic oxytocin drip. The dosage was gradually increased every hour or so and I watched the monitor where I was shown that my body was contracting, but I didn't feel any pain for the first couple of hours. Then the contractions started to twinge and gradually build until about the fifth hour of induced labour when it started to hurt. Boyfriend Pham attached the TENS machine with the midwife's advice because the instruction manual told us to apply the patches too high up.

Labour pain is the most intense pain I have ever felt in my life. It's gruelling having your lower abdomen muscles contract for hours with increasing frequency as time goes on. The TENS machine helped distract from the pain in my belly, by directing pain sensations to my back. I didn't take pain medication because I didn't want anything passing through the placenta and making him sleepy. Gas would have been the only medical option I'd take but by the time I could have used more pain management than the TENS, my contractions were so close together I couldn't catch my breath or organise my thoughts enough to ask for gas. I was a wild animal by the end of my 8-hour labour; my body took over and I was letting out uncontrolled guttural moans with each contraction.

My labour would have been longer if it wasn't for Baby Pham causing more drama. In the final hour, my body was telling me to push but the midwife told me not to because Baby wasn't ready yet. O lordy was it painful to resist the urge to push. I ended up shitting myself because the pressure from Baby's head and contractions were so immense; the midwife had to wipe me clean a couple of times. When I was finally ready to push, Baby's heart rate dropped worryingly low a number of times and disappeared altogether. The midwife didn't know whether it was from him being so low in my body that the monitors couldn't detect him or if his heart had stopped so the situation escalated quickly in the final moments.

The senior midwife was called in and suddenly there were two new faces in the room, and I was being told to PUSH! because my baby was exhausted and needed to come out immediately. I tried to push for two contractions with no luck, then the senior midwife told me Baby couldn't wait for contractions any longer. She coached me through how to push without a contraction; I had to hold my breath and push with all of my might. I strained so hard that I thought I was going to break myself, which in a way I did. I could feel myself tearing as I pushed Baby Pham out, and the midwives pulled him free, but with all the adrenaline I didn't feel any pain.

All I felt was concern that I'd taken too long to push him out until suddenly, there was a baby lifted towards my chest and I could see his little chin quiver before he let out a healthy wail. My boy was alive and he was alert! I was flooded with relief and love for both my baby and the best partner I could wish for in Boyfriend Pham.

Boyfriend Pham is the most supportive and wonderful birth partner. He coached me through each painful contraction, breathing with me while I clung to him. We didn't realise what we were doing is hypnobirthing (deep breathing techniques) until a midwife told us afterwards, Boyfriend was using yoga breathing techniques he'd learned from Yoga with Adriene.

Our little miracle baby was here thanks to his persistence through our fertility journey, and his support during pregnancy, labour and birth.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

Baby Pham made a dramatic entrance into the world. We went to our usual fortnightly midwife check-in appointment two days before his due date. I described how he wasn't kicking as much as he used to. The midwife said it was a myth that babies kick less at the end of pregnancy due to them being bigger with less space and called the hospital to let them know I was coming in for a CTG to check baby's heart rate as a precaution. 

Boyfriend Pham and I went home, ate lunch, packed a short stay bag and my hospital bag just in case, though we were pretty sure the CTG would show Baby was fine so weren't worried. 

We get to the obstetrics review centre and I get strapped to the machine. Baby Pham's heart rate is going wild. After a while, the doctors come in and say we have to induce because the CTG shows baby is not doing well. 

Boyfriend and I are left to process this information. We come to terms with inducing labour that day and then the senior doctor came in and said we needed an emergency c-section because his heart rate being elevated for over an hour indicated he was in distress. I burst into tears. Everything escalated so quickly in the space of 45 minutes. 

I'm worried about baby and I'm shocked that my precautionary visit now means medical interventions and I won't have the vaginal birth I'd wanted for my bub. Boyfriend and I were again left to come to terms with our birth plan changing while the medical staff got ready to prep both of us for surgery. 

I was stripped for surgery and shaved then rolled to the waiting area for surgery. A planned c-section mum and dad were in the next bay and I felt awful that I couldn't stop crying and probably stressing them out. Boyfriend was put in scrubs and our bags stored elsewhere. 

In the prep room attached to the operating theatre, we met with the anaesthetist team who talked us through the spinal block. They explained to Boyfriend that he would stay in the prep room while they did the spinal block but he'd be able to see it from across the room. I'm assuming some partners freak the fudge out seeing the spinal block go in.  

Then as the nurse was about to wheel me into the theatre, the senior doctor said she wanted to wait a few minutes to give baby time to demonstrate whether he was ok or needed out. The second CTG they attached to me in the prep room showed he was calm and cool as a cucumber. A picture perfect, steady heart rate. I couldn't believe it.   

I am so grateful to that doctor for deciding to call off the surgery since baby was no longer in distress. Everyone was there and ready to operate - costing hospital time and money, but she kept her word and didn't push ahead when the emergency c-section wasn't needed. Especially since I had a strong preference for vaginal birth. 

New plan. I went back to the obstetrics centre and had a third CTG which again showed baby was ok. That said the original issue of his reduced movements in my womb was still the main reason we were in hospital. So another doctor recommended we induce that night and we agreed. However, the birthing suite team were too busy and they couldn't get to me so instead Boyfriend Pham was sent home to rest, and I stayed a night in the maternity ward with a bunch of new mums while I waited to join their club in the morning. 

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

At time of writing a couple months ago, I have finished work and started 12-months of parental leave. Possibly one of my favourite updates to my LinkedIn profile was adding my career break to become a parent. I am now counting down the days until I meet Baby Pham. You'd think not working and having free time for yourself would be a dream come true...

The reality is I'm too big to move about freely. I am uncomfortable sitting on the couch, laying on the bed, standing for too long, sitting on a gym ball too long. My body is running hot with the extra blood and tiny human kicking around inside me. Doing basic chores around the house leaves me covered in sweat. Essentially, being awake or asleep is a struggle especially in the Brisbane heat waves and extreme humidity. 

Little Sissy Pham got caught out because her baby arrived on time and she was expecting him to be late because everyone kept telling her your firstborn is always late. She didn't prep any meals. 

I spent the few days I had on maternity leave dreaming of the end of my gestational diabetes diet. I made a wish list of all the foods I'd eat once baby and placenta were out of my body. I also prepped some frozen meals. Luckily I learned from Little Sissy's experience because my Baby Pham made a dramatic, early entrance to the world. A check-in with the midwife the week I was due spiralled into a trip to the hospital and a wild rollercoaster until Bub arrived. More on that next blog.  

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

Last time this orange dress fit.

Around Week 28 at the start of Trimester 3, I had to admit defeat and start retiring my regular wardrobe. I am pretty much exclusively wearing maternity clothes to accommodate the bulging belly for my last 4-6 weeks of pregnancy. Being frugal me, I have tried to keep my maternity wardrobe to a minimum. I want to spend as little as possible on maternity wear because it's only used for a short period in the scheme of things.

I outgrew my work skirts at the start of Trimester 2 and got away with wearing regular tops with these brilliant, bargain-priced Kmart skirts with elasticated waistlines. They were only $25 each and gave me a good 4 months of almost daily wear. However, now my belly is huge I cannot stand having anything on my waist - it's floppy maternity dresses only from here on in. I also bummed around the house in their maternity bike shorts for a while too. 

Elasticated waists for the win!

H&M has a big range of affordable maternity wear called MAMA. The cheaper end of the catalogue has no-frills but comfortable designs, though you can get some dressier items too if you prefer. I browsed the many maternity wear stores but they're expensive for items I may only wear for a month so I opted for cheap, fast fashion for now. 

To try and extend the life of my maternity items, I've looked for dresses where you can free the boobs for breastfeeding so I can continue to wear them after birth. Although I plan to breastfeed there's no guarantee that I will be able to (Mum Pham formula-fed all Pham siblings, and many mums struggle to get milk supply up long-term) so I also don't want to stock up on too many breast-feeding friendly clothes until I know I can breastfeed long-term.

In short, some mornings you'll find me walking around the house half-naked to get freshly washed maternity clothes off the drying rack because I've kept my items to a minimum and if I slack off even for a day or two with laundry I run out of comfy clothes to wear.

Last day in my beloved Beauty & the Beast dress

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

After my pale and pasty phase of early pregnancy in Trimester 1 where I looked sickly and ready to pass out at any moment, people started commenting on my glow in Trimester 2 even when they didn't know I was pregnant.

I don't remember Little Sissy Pham glowing during her pregnancy, so much as whinging constantly about all the bodily changes and challenges. And I have been the same. I have not felt healthy and glowing at any point during my pregnancy. I do wonder if it's because gestational diabetes put a dampener on Trimester 2 or my sciatica shooting burning pain through both thighs, or my pelvis giving me lower back pain. I was seeing my hospital team and a private physio frequently in Trimester 2 to sort my body out. I imagine women who love being pregnant during Trimester 2 are basking in pregnancy hormones levelling out after a nauseating Trimester 1 and enjoying their cute baby bump. I am not one of these women.

I did notice my outward glow, but I am certain it's the 2L-3L extra blood flowing through my struggling veins that makes me glow. I am hot and flushed and uncomfortable on the inside; the heat is radiating out of my flushed cheeks. To give context on how hot I run, I am usually the one with cold feet and hands in our relationship but these days I sleep naked on top of the sheets with the aircon on while Boyfriend Pham sleeps in pyjamas under 2-3 layers of sheets and blankets. Silver lining: I don't need to get maternity pyjamas once my belly outgrows my regular PJs since I can't stand wearing anything in bed - the 4 pillows I use to support my body and legs generate too much heat as it is. I'm also wearing compression socks during the days (yes, in Brisbane's summer heat) because the excess blood and fluids gather at my ankles throughout the day if I don't wear socks.

On the inside, my iron levels are dropping/spreading too thin so I am taking iron supplements that make me even more constipated because baby is growing and pressing on my intestines. The muscle-relaxing hormones that make it possible for my pelvis and belly to expand to house a growing baby have also relaxed my digestive system. I have to take magnesium supplements and rub magnesium oil into my calves before bed to try and prevent painful leg cramps waking me up at night. I no longer sleep through the night because I need to wake up and pee at least once or twice a night with baby pressing down on my bladder.

What I'm trying to say is pregnancy glow is surface-level, what's below the surface is a body adapting to lots of changes and challenges. So, yeah, thanks for the compliments, I may look good but I feel like crap. 

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

I don't tell the truth because I want to. I tell the truth because I am a terrible liar, and I know it. I wanted to keep my pregnancy private in Trimester 1 since it's the first time I've been pregnant, and while it wasn't an IVF baby it was an IVF hormones-supported baby so I didn't know if my body would keep up the pregnancy hormones naturally. In short, I didn't want to tell work colleagues in case I miscarried then I'd have to have sad conversations at work.

Typical of me, I caved and told my boss the truth at Week 9 because I kept calling in sick and, well, when I had 'food poisoning' for the third time in two weeks, I decided it was best to confess it was morning sickness and not me making repeated, bad life decisions. He kept my news confidential as requested (he's better at keeping my secret than me), apart from telling his partner. They both already knew I had started fertility treatment earlier in the year.

Anyway, Boss and I agreed that I would host a team quiz and surprise the gang with my news further along in my pregnancy. However, quiz day is Wednesdays and the week I intended to share my news, was EKKA holiday in Brisbane. It's a local public holiday where different pockets of Brisbane and surrounding regions are given a weekday off to look at farm animals at the showgrounds. EKKA is short for Agricultural Exhibition because we're lazy folk who like to shorten all words until they're not recognisable.

The following Wednesday I hosted the quiz but because the teams took so long to answer each question, we ran over time. I spent the whole day sucking in my gut whenever I walked about the office or holding my bag in front of me when walking in or out of the elevator. I don't know how people didn't notice. I was so uncomfortable in my regular clothes by the end. Pictured is the last day I was able to fit into this skirt because it pinched my belly so hard that I found it hard to breathe.

By the third week of trying to surprise my team, I was so big in the belly bump I stopped going into the office because it would ruin the reveal. It was a great relief when I finally shared my happy news and could start wearing maternity skirts with elasticated waistbands (Kmart maternity for the win!) to the office. I am glad to report people were very surprised, and those who saw my belly in person were shocked they hadn't noticed. Sucking in the gut and holding props in front of your belly like you're on a sitcom works a treat!

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

When people find out I'm pregnant, there are one of two questions they will ask first:

1. When is baby due?
2. Do you know what you're having?
   
   

Do you know what you're having?
I know I'm having a human baby that has all its limbs, heart chambers, two kidneys and lungs. I hope it's a healthy baby that has all its senses and brain functions, but I won't know for weeks after I meet them on the outside of my belly.

As for Baby's sex, Boyfriend Pham and I aren't precious about it, which is good because the way we learned our baby's sex was unconventional. My GP doctor, bless him, is not a pre-natal specialist. He didn't even know the process for Non-invasive prenatal testing (NIPT); I educated him on this blood test since the company I work for offers them. With NIPTs, you have an optional tickbox to request the lab check the DNA for gender. I thought I'd learn baby's sex with Boyfriend Pham when we went for results. Not so. In reality, I learned Baby Pham's gender while Boyfriend Pham was in Melbourne visiting friends. My doctor texted me a photo of his computer screen with my NIPT results with the message "Mother of a boy--- C-O-N-G-R-A-T-S."

I had just woken up from a nap on Friday night after work. I was sad Boyfriend Pham didn't get to learn at the same time as me. I called him straight away and interrupted his game of Dungeons & Dragons to see if he wanted to know the baby's sex. He said, "Oh - okay...? Yeah." So I told him and he shared it with his friends who cheered in the background. They were shocked that you can casually find out your baby's gender on a Friday night. 

I had enough trouble keeping my pregnancy a secret from the work crew during the first trimester, I couldn't be bothered keeping more secrets after I could finally talk about it so the closest I got to a gender reveal 'event' was getting the work crew to guess what I was having.

I hosted a team quiz where I revealed I was pregnant and got the team to guess whether I was having a Barbie or a Ken. As much I adore Ryan Gosling's Ken, our baby will look more like a Simu Liu Ken since neither Boyfriend Pham or I are blonde and blue-eyed.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

When people find out I'm pregnant, there are one of two questions they will ask first:

1. When is baby due?
2. Do you know what you're having?

When is baby due? Well, nobody really knows because estimated due dates based on the start of your last menstrual period are based on a very non-inclusive formula some German obstetrician named Franz Nagele concocted hundreds of years ago, assuming all menstrual cycles are 28 days long and you conceived on day 14. This excludes most pregnancies because menstrual cycle lengths vary and you can conceive on a number of fertile days each cycle. In short, this method is stupid and I don't understand why we still use it.

Healthcare professionals realise this, which is why some medical practitioners use your Week 12 growth scan to estimate a new due date that they deem more accurate. But this method is also flawed because the angle the sonographer decides to take the measurement on any given day changes, your fetus's position could also be tricky to measure and you end up with a measurement that can be a little or a long way off the reality.

Lastly, we started the IVF process and my hormones were all over the shop when we became pregnant naturally. My menstrual cycle was a whopping 49 days or so the month before we became pregnant as opposed to my usual 28-day cycle. I tracked my body's symptoms and knew when I had spot bleeding, which I thought was my period coming in a few days, but it turned out to be Baby Pham in embryo form embedding into my uterus lining so if I use another formula that assumes the embryo implants 6-7 days after fertilization then my current estimated due date is off by over a week.

So when people ask me when baby is due, I say it'll be a summer baby.

This turned into a long rant, so I will talk about gender reveals in my next post.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience

There are three main ways that gestational diabetes seems to be managed:

1. Not at all - pregnant woman ignores medical advice, goes rogue and eats whatever she wants and doesn't test her blood glucose levels.
2. Diet-control and exercise - Moderating blood glucose levels through balanced meals and snacks, with moderate movement/exercise after each main meal to help process the blood glucose.
3. Diabetes medical intervention with insulin injections or Metformin pills, or a combo of both.

So far, I have been on Option 2: Diet control and movement. On bad days, I wish I could do option 1 and indulge in hot chips and ice cream without the crippling guilt I know I'd feel after. On exhausted days, I consider asking my diabetes team to stick me with multiple daily needles already so I can be less strict with my diet. Then I remember that I am doing option 2 for baby and get back to it!

Going on insulin, I'm told, risks placental deterioration while taking Metformin pills passes through the placenta and impacts baby's insulin production and growth. Both are safe enough to be used on pregnant women, obviously, but diet-controlled is what the medical teams prefer if you can to avoid further medical interventions that come from going on medication. Diet control doesn't always work especially towards the end of your pregnancy because of wild pregnancy hormones produced by the placenta.

I am writing this at Week 30 when the placenta starts to kick up its insulin-resistant hormones so I may write about insulin and metformin experience in future. But for now, I am diet-controlled.

I went from two meals a day, and an afternoon snack of fruit to:

1. 3 main meals a day - breakfast, lunch, dinner - 30g-45g carbs
2. 2 snacks - 2-3 hours after breakfast and lunch - 15g-30g carbs
3. Supper right before bed - 15g or less carbs

I focus on low-GI carbs that take longer to break down into blood glucose, and adding lots of veggies and protein will also help slow the conversion to glucose. Some women find it easier to go low-carb because there's little to no risk of spiking your blood glucose levels (BGLs), but my dietitian recommended 175g minimum a day for baby's development so that's what I target.

I have this with low GI brown rice that's not pictured

For those on diet control, this generous Melbourne dietitian is a godsend - Robyn Compton shares her GD expertise and I couldn't have figured out my new, balanced diet without her. Even my hospital dietitians recommended her to me after I'd found her through an online support group: https://www.instagram.com/gestationaldiabetes_dietitian/ The hospital dietitian's few pages of info on carb portions and whole foods vs processed foods is not enough to build meal plans for however many months until baby arrives. But with Robyn Compton here to save the day, I have plenty of meal and snack options from here until I deliver.

The Gestational Diabetes Australian Support Group on Facebook is also really helpful:  Lots of women sharing their personal experiences and supporting each other through this often baffling diagnosis and treatment. I don't normally have a good time with Facebook groups because I find people get catty, judgemental or sarcastic when they're allowed to post anonymously. But this group is full of pregnant women who genuinely care and are trying their best to navigate the murky areas of gestational diabetes management.

I also binged the Gestational Diabetes Club podcast by nutritionist, Helena. There is one particularly helpful Q&A episode with a GD educator that I wish they'd recorded a couple months earlier when I was starting my GD learning. It's super helpful: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1AaAKDKl7kOC1hOWQzzoLh?si=e0a1418b664b452b  

I've found my 'safe' meals after about 4 weeks of a crash course on how my body processes different food combinations. I'll occasionally try something new now I'm 11 weeks into my new diet but often I don't want the anxiety of eating something different and waiting two hours to test my BGLs to see if it's within limit. My diet is getting boring and I have another 9-11 weeks to go if baby arrives around the estimated due date, but better safe than sorry. I talk Baby Pham through our daily menu each morning so he's prepared for yet another bland day of eating.

I have a few 'cheat' meals coming up for Babymoon and over the holiday season where I'm pretty sure I'll spike so I want to avoid having too many spikes now. Consistent spikes over time is the real danger to baby whose body then gets used to producing more insulin to compensate for my high glucose diet so I don't feel so bad about the odd cheat meal I have coming up in the next couple months.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience