Hello you all non-existent readers...I am finally back...

I was asked that day to blog more often now that I'm on my maternity leave (to those not in the know, yes I've given birth). Well, to start off, I don't even have 2 hrs to spare without the little one crying for milk, asking for a change of diaper, asking to be carried, or whatever that his little heart desires. I know blogging takes a shorter time than that but I'm sure you all know that putting thoughts into words takes well, time. -__-

Anyways, I'd like to start off this new life of mine by blogging about my labour. (This entry is especially for me to remember if and when hubby decides to have a No. 2 and I need to have an excuse to refuse).

It all started on the morning of 7 May 2008. We slept at 12.30 that night having been up doing things that you guys wouldn't want to know. I woke up at 2.30 in the morning feeling wet and wondering why the hell I couldnt control my bladder. Turns out my waterbag burst and with blood, no less. Thank God I didn't make a mess on the bed. Woke Najib up and told him its time to go to the hospital. Of course, he, of all people, didn't believe me. He asked me if i'm sure and kept asking how I know that stuff was my amniotic fluid. I swear if I was calmer, that wet pad would have gone flying to his sleepyhead.

Fast forward to 3.30am. (Yes I actually waited an hour because I didn't want to cause any false alarm). Amniotic fluid still leaking, I msged my gynae telling him of situation. Of course he didn't reply because I'm pretty sure though he's paid big bucks to look down a woman's nether regions, he wouldn't and couldn't be working at 3.30 in the morning. So yes, smart me decided to call him instead after not getting a response to the sms. After talking to the gynae for a good 20seconds and asking if I should proceed to the hospital now, he asked me who I was. No, Dr Loke, I don't blame you. In all his sleepy state, he said to go to the hospital (Not sure if he still know who I was by the time we hung up though).

So we trotted off sleepily to the hospital at 4.30am while the whole world still sleeps.

I was told by the nurse on night duty that my contractions are coming every 4 minutes and my cervix has dilated by 3.5cm. I was of course, quite glad because until then, my contractions were bearable and if labour was anything like that, I was sure everything would be a breeze. So I happily called my parents at 6.30 to inform them I was already in the labour ward and I even managed to msg my cousin at 9plus to disturb her.

And of course I was wrong about the labour.

By 10am, my cervix opened to only 4 freaking cm. Yes, 6 hours for the cervix to open up by a mere .5cm. Well done, rabs. So of course they had to put me on drip right? Right. And that was when it all started.

I don't want to scare any of you non-pregnant readers but the pain, *shakes head* was in short, SAKIT GILLLLER. My colleagues told me before that it'd feel like menstrual pain x 10 but I guess they all lied. If they had said it would be menstrual pain x 100 I'd prolly have believed them. Anyway my cervix dilated to 10cm at around 1pm when I was told that I can start pushing. That was another hard work. It was like trying to shit a piece of wood.

I was in and out of consciousness but I could pretty much hear all the voices around me. The little one didn't want to come out so we had to coax him out using forceps. Najib said the forceps was as big as his arm. I was quite glad that I didn't open my eyes because if I did, I'd probably have fainted and they would have to cut me open to take Aqeel out.

The fruit of my labour (pun intended) finally made his appearance at 1:54pm. And the mummy, all sore and aching, is still recovering...