pregnancy

If I have to sum it up, my first trimester was pretty much like having to survive a brutal kungfu endurance training, but with less of the awesome kungfu moves and more of the part where I end up vomiting all over myself multiple times a day.

In comparison, the second trimester was like a leisurely stroll in the park. Nay, make it a dance in the park to a chorus of pretty little birdies. No, wait, make it a full on party in the park with a Glee-level rendition of Party Rock Anthem.

It is the only time where you get to bask in that elusive pregnancy glow that people talk about. It’s 3 precious months of repite without any nasty side effects before everything goes downhill again.

Now that I’m officially in third trimester territory and stricken with a different (but no less annoying) set of pregnancy discomforts, it’s only right that I look back at the awesomeness that is the second trimester.

1. Hello, Appetite.

Some people eat because they have to and others eat because they enjoy it. I happen to fall in the category of people who consider good food an art form. I need to make my calories count so every meal must be worth its weight in taste and satisfaction.

During the first trimester, I would spend hours surfing food blogs looking at pictures just to find something that would trigger my appetite. Laksa, chicken rice, Bak Kut Teh, Wagyu beef steak… nothing worked.

Thankfully, the appetite’s back and I’m at least enjoying my meals again. All’s right with the world.

2. Sporadic Bursts of Energy

I still tire more easily than when I’m not pregnant but comparatively, my energy levels during the second trimester is a marked difference from the other two trimesters. I go to bed at 11pm instead of right after dinner at 7.30 and some days, I can even make do without my afternoon naps.

3. Boom-Chica-Wow-Wow

I shan’t bore you with the details of my sexytime but let’s just say that it’s 50 Shades of Awesome. Ok, I haven’t actually read the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy despite the frenzy it’s caused among the mommy blogging circles but *ahem* at this point, there hasn’t been a need to.

One of the best parts of the second trimester is this activity I like to call Watching The Baby Move, also known as Let’s See Who Can Stare At My Pregnant Belly The Longest.

I do that a lot these days, because Finn seems to be having a party inside all the time. And also because it’s fun on so many levels – I get to lie down and do absolutely nothing except stare at my stomach. Even when he’s not moving, it’s extremely therapeutic and when he does move, it’s like “woah chill out in there, little guy” but also “that’s unbelievably cool” all at the same time.

Having done this twice before, it still fascinates me whenever the baby kicks or moves or flips a somersault. You know that chest-bursting scene in Alien where the alien thing struggles to pop out of the dude’s chest? Like that, except far less creepy and actually kind of sweet.

Well, ok, the husband says it’s nothing like that scene at all but I’ll qualify that by saying that I’ve never actually watched the full scene, only the first 3 seconds where there’s visible movement in the guy’s abdominal region before I end up closing my eyes and stuffing my fingers in my ears while singing “I Will Survive” loud enough to drown out the sound.

Anyhow, I like to get everyone engaged in this stomach-watching activity because it’s great for family bonding and all that. So every night before bed, I’ll make the husband and kids gather to stare at my belly.

The husband would pretend to be interested while fiddling with his iPad but at least the kids would stare intently, waiting for any sign of movement. But then Finn would get a bout of performance anxiety and refuse to move. 30 seconds in, they’ll be like “this is so boring why is he not moving?” and I’ll be all “you guys need to be patient, just wait for it.” After another 5 seconds, they’ll realize that they have better things to do with their time and run off, which is usually the point Finn starts to move. Then I’ll yell at them to come back because they’re missing out on witnessing a potentially life-changing event. But obviously by the time they get back, the moving would have stopped and Kirsten be all exasperated, like “I come back but baby Finn never move what. BABY FINNNNN!! Are you there? I think he cannot hear me.”

Till this day, they think that I’m making this up so I’m going to make one of those time-lapse videos of me lying down for 24 hours just so I can prove it to them.

Now if only I can find 24 hours to lie down without moving.

It’s totally for research, you guys. Or science. Or art. One of those.

Uh huh. Looks like there’ll be more testosterone and manly grunts on the horizon because us girls are going to be outnumbered around here.

I know I’ve been saying how my gut feel was that it’s going to be another girl but turns out I was wrong again. That makes it 0 for 2 as far as my mother’s intuition goes. Well at least this time, I knew better than to call him Hailey for the first trimester so instead I called him baby just to be safe.

Speaking of names, the original plan was to call the next boy Travis but we were sitting in the doctor’s office and we both felt like this one didn’t feel like a Travis.

This one sort of feels like a Finn.

Not short for Finnegan or Finnick or Finley. Just Finn.

Finn Kao.

Ok bring on the jokes – seriously, if you can think of any puns, do share. We couldn’t think of any but just in case we’re missing out something obvious, it’s better to find out now than 5 years down the road when he goes to kindergarten.

You know there’s a point in every pregnancy where you officially feel pregnant? And yes, by pregnant, I really mean fat.

It’s what I like to call the point of no return because it all just goes downhill from there.

The first 3 months or so, you can get by without looking the least bit pregnant. You get to parade around in regular non-maternity clothes and enjoy still having a waistline. And while the morning sickness is annoying, it does help to keep the weight gain at bay.

But that all changes right around the second trimester. Your body decides that because it’s carrying another human being, it needs to start accumulating fats like there’s no tomorrow. You have to have that box of durians at 2 o’clock in the morning. That bag of chips is just sitting there calling out to be eaten and you lose all willpower against the evil forces of Nasi Lemak.

I have a former colleague who had the misfortune of only knowing me in my heavily-pregnant state. We started working together when I was 6 months pregnant and because I left my job shortly after giving birth to Tru, the only version of me he knows is the one lumbering around with the 170-pound ass. I met him again last year at the Singapore Blog Awards and when I went over to say hi, he stared at me blankly for a whole 5 seconds before going “OMG Daphne, it’s you! I couldn’t recognize you, you look so…different, uh…good!”

It was a nice compliment and the honesty was refreshing but I realized that to him, I was that fat chick from the office. You know this whole pregnancy weight gain thing? It really sucks.

I just spent the last 2.5 years trying to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight through a combination of several painful methods including breastfeeding, strenuous physical exertion and far too much starvation. And now that I’m finally able to fit into my size 28 jeans, I’m ballooning out of control.

I was out shopping with the husband over the weekend and I’m found myself shopping in the maternity section because my beloved size 28’s is giving me a massive hernia. I was determined to wear it for as long as I could this pregnancy and I barely made it to 13 weeks.

It’s so depressing.

The husband says I’m still beautiful and tried to take my photo to prove it but I’m all “if you take my photo, I will cut you.”

So excuse me while I spend the rest of the day wearing ginormous sweats and eating ice-cream.

Thanks for all the congratulatory messages, it means a lot!

I’m still trying to wrap my head around this new pregnancy thing, alternating between sublime OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of euphoria and a terrifying OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of distress. Mostly the second part.

While I like the part about having the baby come out, I’m not too keen on the 9 months of pregnancy. I have friends who make pregnancy look so easy. They get that beautiful pregnancy glow. They get curves in all the right places. They get nice shiny hair and perfect skin. And they spend their entire pregnancy prancing around in size 6 designer maternity clothing.

Me, I get 30 kgs of curves added to my ass, which means I have difficulty getting into a size 12 and have to lumber around feeling downright miserable.

I’m hungry all the time but when I look at food, I immediately want to throw up. I’m exhausted but when I lie down, I toss and turn for hours before falling asleep. Most days, I just want to curl up on the floor and wait for time to pass me by.

Just two days ago, I had 30 minutes to grab a quick breakfast with the husband before he left for work. Being the third day of the Chinese New Year, most of the food places were still closed.  We settled for this coffeeshop along Beach Road but when we got in, we realized that only one stall was open and that my only options were kaya toast and soft boiled eggs. The husband was all spritely, like “sure, let’s eat here, everywhere else seems to be closed” so I figured I’d just grab a Milo and then go for a proper breakfast after he left.

But as I watched him enjoy his eggs and toast, I basically lost it.

“What kind of a ridiculous coffeeshop turns on all the lights and then only sells drinks? And who eats stupid kaya bread for breakfast? It’s not even a real breakfast and the smell is making me want to vomit. Baby needs noodles or rice or a piece of steak. They obviously hate my baby, it’s like they’re trying to starve me, amirite?”

The husband just sat there calmly and when I was done with my tirade, he was like “is this going to be like the *ice-chips incident?”

The “ice-chips incident” is a complicated one that will require another post but it is what we say when we refer to a pregnancy meltdown of epic proportions.

“No, it’s not like the ice-chips incident at all. Are you saying that I’m overreacting?”

“It could be the pregnancy hormones.”

“It’s got nothing to do with hormones. Baby is hungry and all I have to eat are half-cooked eggs. I’m going to need some real food. Do you want the baby to be malnourished?”

“I think the baby is going to be just fine. But you should go eat something nice later ok.”

“I’m not even sure I’m going to make it till later. I might pass out from hunger while driving and then it will be all your fault.”

“Definitely ice-chips.”

“I’m going to poison your eggs when you’re not looking.”

I made it to the noodle stall in Tampines without passing out but when I got there, I felt too nauseous to eat, so I went home and had a second milo, feeling all sorry for myself.

On the plus side, there are only 2 more weeks of my first trimester left and if the previous pregnancies are anything to go by, it’ll be a lot better then.