Sophia Chung

When my nurse (I know my nurses' and physicians' names but will keep them anonymous to protect their privacy) finished setting up all of the supplies and lighting and had my legs propped open, she taught me how to push. I was to wait for a contraction to come on. At the height of my contraction, I was to take a deep breath and then continually push while counting to 10 seconds. Then I was to push two more times (later on they told me I could do 4 pushes per contraction if I wanted to, which I did, to try to get the baby out faster) during the height of the contraction. Then I was to rest until my next contraction came on.

I was shivering violently, my teeth chattering loudly, completely drenched in sweat. I told my partner, "I feel the way I did at the peak of my symptoms from the covid vaccine." I recognized the same physical sensations then as when my body had mounted an immune response and was in agony after my covid vaccines. I felt chills all over, body aches, fatigue. When it was time to push, I was also sleepy and exhausted. I was fighting so hard to not fall asleep. I was so surprised by all of these feelings. In the past I had expected that there would be an adrenaline rush and I'd be wired and totally focused on this exciting and demanding task of pushing my baby out. When the time came, I didn't expect to feel like I did: very feverish, drowsy before I even began pushing, like the energy had already been sucked out of me.

They actually had the anesthesiologist come in and lower my epidural dose, because I needed to be able to feel my contractions so that I could know correctly when to push. Honestly, the contractions were pretty faint and I had to focus pretty intently to discern them, but I was able to feel the onset of the pressure. The beautiful magic and miracle of the epidural--I was able to feel the pressure but not pain (thank you because that pain had been EXCRUCIATING.) The worst part of labor and delivery was the many hours of pain at home and at the hospital prior to the epidural, along with all the painful procedures they did before the epidural was in. The epidural actually gave me the energy to push better. If I didn't get an epidural I think the pain would've been so severe that it would've depleted my capacity to handle the labor. The epidural also gave me the confidence and ease of mind that I could manage the second stage of labor. I had also consumed only clear liquids for the past 16.5 hrs before pushing began and vomited a lot of it out at that point, as well as slept only a few hours cumulatively, so I'm grateful for the epidural and not having to expend energy on trying to survive the pain.

My nurse placed a gloved finger on/in me down there to show me where I was supposed to concentrate my pushing, like which muscles I was supposed to push. At first she seemed a little discouraged, like I wasn't managing to get it correct, so I felt discouraged as well and questioned my capacity to do this thang. We kept practicing and trying and sometimes she'd respond positively that I'd done it right and sometimes it would be obvious to me that I hadn't gotten it right that time. I questioned my abilities and then started to picture the scenario of going and going for hours, not being able to push my baby out, and then having to get a C-section.

Later the attending OB physician came in and sat herself down parked right in front of my spread out legs. She stared at me, stared between my legs, and I felt very self-conscious. My nurse earlier had kept going back and forth between me and letting me push on my own while she charted on the computer, watched the monitor, entered orders on the computer, or tidied up. But the OB physician was fully focused and present on me. Sometimes other providers would come in and out of my room too. So I just felt their eyes burning onto my private areas, sprawled open on display for everyone to see under bright spotlights. I had to push my self-conscious thoughts out of the way and try to ignore them, tell myself I shouldn't be uncomfortable because they don't care what I look like down there.

The physician observed that part of the amniotic sac hadn't fully ruptured so she asked if she could complete the rupture and I said yes. So I think she then inserted the amnihook to fully rupture it.

My nurse told the OB physician that I had a fever of 102.4 degrees fahrenheit and she had just ordered IV antibiotics (ampicillin and gentamicin) for me. The OB seemed surprised and was like, "Whoa. Yes, definitely she should get antibiotics." They also gave me IV acetaminophen. They suspected I had chorioamnionitis. So that explained why I had felt intensely feverish.

The OB was also coaching me how to push. She also placed a gloved finger where I was supposed to push, and she told me, "Don't grimace. Relax your face. Redirect all of that energy and effort into pushing down here. BIG PUSH, as hard as you can!" That was actually so helpful to realize that my facial reaction of grimacing or clenching my hands was not helpful and that I needed use every ounce of that energy instead on pushing the right muscles to move the baby out. Sometimes the providers would respond enthusiastically and praise my pushes, like "That was great!" and sometimes they wouldn't. Which made me feel discouraged at first that I wasn't consistent, so maybe I didn't know how to do it correctly.

After a short amount of time, early on in the pushing, the OB then told me, "If you've been pushing for a while and we're not making enough progress and we're concerned about the baby's condition, there's a chance may need to use forceps or vacuum to assist the baby out, or other measures. We will try not to need these interventions, but I just want to let you know ahead of time so that it doesn't come as a surprise to you later in the event that we need to. Your baby has had a very high heart rate for a long time, and especially because of the fever and infection it's possible we may be concerned later on and need to speed up getting baby out." This made me feel worried. Like oh shit am I doing a terrible job of pushing? How come after all that pushing the baby's head is still inside me and hasn't emerged yet, maybe I'm really bad at pushing. And it planted the image in my mind of an even greater possibility that my baby could be hurt during this process. A sinking feeling of oh no, I'm not going to be able to get this done.

It felt somewhat defeating to keep pushing over and over and after all of that effort to think that the baby was barely moving anywhere still inside me. If all the pushing led to this lack of progress, how long is it going to take to get him all the way out? It seemed beyond my capabilities, like I just couldn't comprehend how I could get it done, and I somewhat lost hope.

Eventually the antibiotics and acetaminophen helped and I felt less feverish. I still felt very drowsy. I kept wondering how long this was going to go on for, like having no clue how long this would take and simultaneously feeling like I was barely making any progress. There were so many times I felt burnt out and physically exhausted, depleted of all energy. But what kept me going and not giving up was thinking, just do one more set of pushes. Like instead of thinking about still needing to get the entire baby out and the unknown number of hours of pushing I had ahead of me, I just mustered up the energy for one more set of pushes and then allowed myself to stop caring. And then I would do one more set of pushes and then just zone out and rest. I stopped trying so hard to control the outcome and let go of my expectations. It felt like it had been dragging on for so long, so I just took it one push at a time. At a certain point you're so tired that you don't have the energy to care.

Eventually the physician encouraged me by saying that they could see baby's hair. "Baby's head has a lot of dark hair, I can see it! Do you want to feel his hair?" I reached down and could feel a tuft of soft, slick hair on the top of my baby's head. The top fraction of his head was exposed out in the world. I felt so relieved that finally some noticeable progress had been made. But also worried that I had pushed for what felt like SO long and the top of his head was just barely out so how the F did I still have the rest of his head and body left to go.

At a certain point I heard them calling for the pediatric team to come to the room because they needed baby to immediately be seen by the pediatricians as soon as they were able. The OB physician made a phone call, "I need Gen Peds to come to L&D room 7 to be ready to see the baby as soon as this baby is delivered." Because I work in this hospital where day in and day out all I see are sick children, I actually didn't feel surprised in the least that my baby would need special care after being born. I just accept it as a very real possibility that can happen to any healthy mama.

Not too long after I felt baby's hair, the nurse and physician seemed very hyped repeatedly saying that I was doing great with every contraction. It seemed like the energy and momentum had changed a bit like they were seeing progress, but I had no idea because I couldn't see what was happening down at my birth canal. So I really had no concept of how much longer I'd have to keep pushing. There was now a whole large team of other providers in the room. OB resident physician, a team of pediatricians, another nurse, probably more people but they didn't really register in mind because I was focused only on pouring all of my energy into getting this baby out of me already. I had tunnel vision on just trying to get through one more contraction's worth of pushes at a time.

They never told me that I was close to finishing. I guess it's good practice not to get a mama's hopes up in case things go south afterward. So I had no idea that I was making significant progress getting the baby out, and then all of a sudden after a set of pushes, I saw them pull baby's body up towards me with umbilical cord still attached and placed him on my chest. Congrats, you did it! I was stunned because the time it took to get the rest of baby out after crowning felt much shorter in comparison to how long it took to push the baby from inside of me to crowning. I'm grateful they didn't really give me updates on my progress, so that I was in shock that it was over faster than I expected.

They told me that my baby was born at 4:48pm after 2 hours of pushing.

After the months of feeling him kick and roll and punch inside of me, I could finally meet him formally and see the baby who was physically connected to me. I couldn't believe my body grew this entire other human being with a heartbeat and brain and face and arms and legs.

I will never ever forget the beautiful moment that I saw C for the first time outside of me. It is one of the most special and favorite moments of my entire life. His face was scrunched in agony and his whole body was purple-pink-grey. He wasn't crying but his expression looked like he was on the verge of it. His hands were super wrinkly and he had scrawny, skinny limbs. His black hair was slick against his head. "He's so cute!" were the first words that came out of my mouth without thinking. I completely adored his face; he was perfect in my eyes, and I was in love with baby.

Every so often the nurse came and turned me in the bed from one side to the other. They had me use a peanut ball between my legs, which helped so much to make lying on my side while pregnant more comfortable by relieving the pressure and distributing weight more evenly. I never bothered with it during this pregnancy but if I'm ever pregnant again, I should actually put a pillow between my knees next time when trying to sleep.

When I'd been lying on either side I felt as if I was supposed to just do whatever the nurse instructed, and I'd feel disobedient if I moved into a different position. Because she had said, "I will come in and move you to different positions periodically." There were times I got physically uncomfortable because I was left on one side for really long, and I just moved myself to a more comfortable position to relieve the pressure on that side, then would feel guilty as if I were doing something wrong. In retrospect, I had a right to decide for myself when and how to change positions in the hospital bed.

The epidural made my legs completely numb, and I also couldn't feel the contractions anymore. I went from 9 out of 10 pain during each relentless contraction to 0 pain. This miracle medicine was such a godsend. Yet I wasn't trying to sleep overnight because I kept thinking they were going to come in and do the cervical exam, which I'd been long overdue for. And I didn't want to bother the nurse to inquire about it because I just wanted to make her job easier so I thought I just had to go with the flow.

Around 7am another Ob/gyn resident came in and did my 2nd cervical exam, and I was 5 cm dilated. I was happy to hear I'd made progress. She said she was going to perform an amniotomy (artificially rupture the amniotic sac). I told them I preferred to have fewer interventions and wanted to continue letting my labor progress naturally instead. After all, my body had done its thing and progressed from 0 to 3 to 5 cm dilated spontaneously. The physician pushed back and again said multiple times that they highly recommended amniotomy to speed up labor. I again advocated for myself, though it really is not easy to do so. I am very docile and avoid confrontation. I didn't want to be difficult, and the people pleaser in me felt obliged to be submissive to their requests. I think I worded it as I'd prefer not to have the procedure for now but may I please wait a few hours to see if my water will break on its own and you can reconsider later?

So after that, I was stressed and anxious wishing for my water to break on its own. I was running through all the risks of AROM and no AROM in my head and was worried about which was the right decision. I just kept thinking of the potential risks to my baby with either choice I made, and having to decide on one really troubled me. Worried that if something bad happens to your baby, don't want to regret making the wrong choice. I was also worried about whether there would be an increased risk of C-section. Which made it difficult to sleep or get much rest after that. The other thing that made it hard to get quality rest was all of the things I was connected to: my left arm had the ID wristband, blood pressure cuff and the long tube connected to the pole, and the gauze taped on me where the nurse had initially inserted the needle to get an IV line; my right side had the pulse oximeter and that line on my finger, the long IV line connected to the pole and also taped on my arm, and the epidural line connected to the pole. Everything kept getting tangled in the multiple thin blankets and my baggy hospital gown that had a bunch of ties holding it together.

I was allowed to consume only clear liquids. For breakfast I ordered cranberry and apple juice as well as a chicken broth and beef broth. These were the first calories I'd had since my last solid food meal for dinner the previous night around 9pm. I had been feeling nauseous and weak, but I was also starving and slurped down the calories. After drinking the broth, I felt a sudden, unexpected, overwhelming sensation of nausea and urgently begged, "Hand me that paper bag" to my partner because it was out of reach and I was stuck on the hospital bed with my numb legs. He reacted quickly and handed me the bag, and at that very instant I violently vomited into the paper bag. Wave after wave rushed out. The large volume of vomit soaked through the bag and started dripping out the bottom and onto my bed and me, but I didn't have any other container available.

I hit the nurse call button. The nurse later came in and handed me a couple of emesis bags to have around and she gave me a dose of IV Zofran. The Zofran was yet another medicinal godsend. All the nausea I'd been feeling eventually miraculously disappeared. I was too scared to consume anything else after that, because the vomiting had been so unpleasant, and I already felt weak as is, that I didn't want to risk more vomiting.

Another physician came in again. She told me that the previous physician had relayed to her that I had declined, so the new physician then tried to convince me to have amniotomy and get oxytocin. I declined. This physician was much more understanding and kind about me declining; she didn't make me feel pressured as much to oblige to them. She recommended the nurse put me in the throne position.

Eventually started to feel a new kind of sensation, I guess it could maybe be described as rectal pressure. At the beginning it wasn't as intense as my contractions had been. The nurse helped me get into the throne or princess position, a more upright position that would help to put more of the baby's weight pressing down on my cervix and I think open up my pelvis. I was left like this for what felt like a long time to the point of getting uncomfortable. At some point during this time, the pressure down there felt pretty strong.

I started to feel breakthrough pain and could feel intense abdominal pain with every contraction again, even though my legs were still numb from the epidural. The contractions were so strong that they were becoming unbearable again. I was beginning to feel as if significant progress was happening and the baby could be coming soon. I sensed that this signaled a milestone because my body had noticed a change compared to the many hours before.

But I also had no previous experience with labor and delivery, so I had no frame of reference to know what it's supposed to feel like at different stages of labor. I just sat there wondering when anyone would come check on me, until I really felt it was dragging on for so long because I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to withstand that position. But I had this feeling like I was supposed to hit the nurse call button as absolutely few times as possible in order to be a good patient. "Just let them come in whenever they want and avoid needing anything, avoid questioning any of their care," I told myself. I kept having this mentality that I was supposed to keep to myself and let them dictate when each next step would happen.

I still didn't hit the nurse call button. Over and over again, I kept thinking someone surely was going to check on me soon, just wait patiently a bit longer. Finally a nurse walked back in the room to get me out of the throne position. I told her about the large amount of pressure I felt and asked her how we know when I should be checked again. The nurse responded, "For first-time moms, you usually feel it for a long time before it's time to start pushing," and she didn't offer to ask anybody to check on me or do a cervical exam. She acted as if there wasn't any need to take action and as if the team would know when to check me, so I just trusted her and ignored my gut feeling that my labor had made significant progress. I had actually felt the urge to push but nobody had asked me about it or ever told me that I should speak up about it, so I didn't know to do so. So I just tried to ignore the urge to push and tried to not push. It's possible they were monitoring certain things remotely that would've directed their care at the appropriate time that I don't know about, since they are the professionals after all.

I told my nurse I was having 9 out of 10 pain with each contraction again that was not being controlled despite pressing the PCEA buttons according to their instructions. I was astonished that the pain had come back after not feeling any of the contractions earlier that morning. In that moment I thought with denial, dread, and disappointment, "No, this pain coming back can't really be happening." I felt a bit uneasy because of several reasons: 1) I didn't want the epidural to fail to control my pain, so I wasn't sure what was wrong and hoped it could be resolved. 2) I was worried about the side effects of getting doses that were too large. I was very relieved and appreciative that the nurse listened and acknowledged my pain and asked the anesthesiologist to see me. I was grateful the anesthesiologist then bolused me and increased my epidural dose. I was fine with the dose increase; I had just wanted reassurance that the pump and PCEA button had been accurately and safely delivering the doses.

While they were working on increasing my dose, I lay in bed eating my clear liquid lunch: 2 fruit popsicles. The icy cold sensation and the sweet taste were so refreshing. Because I had vomited my breakfast earlier, the only calories I'd consumed since last night's dinner, I was starving at this point. I ate them as slowly as possible, avoiding biting them, in order to make them last longer and savored the popsicles, and they gave me much needed energy. In my dire moment these tasted like the best fruit popsicles I've ever had. This made me so happy and was one of the absolute highlights of my hospital stay.

At around noon the nurse noticed that my sheets under my vaginal area had a large puddle of bloody-looking fluid. She told me that my water had broken and helped change all the stained sheets and my gown. These nurses have to clean up after my messes all day--I seriously have so much respect for the work they do. I hadn't felt my water break. But it appeared that there was a gush of amniotic fluid outside of me. I was so relieved to know that my water broke on its own naturally!

Like magic, the epidural dose increase then took effect and helped control my breakthrough pain and then I didn't feel contractions anymore. I blissfully thanked science for the pharmaceutical miracle. Yet again, the new pain that had been so severe as to torment me through my epidural went from 9 out of 10 to ZERO. I was in awe. I also didn't feel the rectal pressure anymore.

After that, I later woke up, looked at the time, and was stunned that I'd knocked out for a solid one and a half to two hours. That was the longest stretch of sleep I'd gotten at any point during the hospital stay, and I was so grateful for it. I realized that I must have been able to sleep so deeply because I was finally at peace knowing my water broke so I didn't have to worry about the threat of amniotomy. That combination of the epidural suddenly treating my excruciating pain, the rush of calories from the two popsicles, and the peace of mind of my water having broken allowed me to finally sleep well.

My intuition told me that it had been time to push already, from the time before my epidural dose increase when my labor course had felt like it had made progress and I had noticed new developments with my body, new pressure and new pain. There still wasn't any nurse or provider checking on me, so I hit the nurse call button and specifically requested they perform a cervical exam again.

The physician arrived almost right away and performed another cervical exam. She then exclaimed in surprise, "The baby's here! Get the room ready. It's time to start pushing." The tone sounded slightly urgent--It must be tiring working a job where all of a sudden you have to stop everything else you're doing to attend a delivery for possibly several intense hours. It was about 2:30pm. I had a feeling I had been 10cm dilated already for hours, and I wonder what would've happened if I hadn't spoken up and asked to be checked. However, I think it worked out well that nobody had done any cervical exam on me for a long time, because it allowed me to finally get that solid nap in that was crucial to restore my energy.

Around 6:20pm arrived at the hospital, which is also my place of employment, where I spend many hours of my life at all hours of the day. One of the oddities of giving birth where you work is that people you know are seeing you in very vulnerable places and moments. Actually the first provider who walked into the room to examine me, an Ob/Gyn resident, was someone I'd talked to multiple times before as part of our professions lol. And now I had to spread my legs open for her to stick her fingers up my vagina to reach my cervix to do the cervical exam while I was in labor. Later on, a different Ob/Gyn resident who was present when my child was born and then stitched me up down there where baby came out was also someone I'd talked to before. These are just a couple out of multiple physicians whom I'd talked to in the past who ended up showing up at my labor and delivery haha. And then I have to go back to work and talk to them again as part of our jobs.

Throughout my childbirth experience, I have to say that our hospital's L&D nurses are angels on earth. They are the cream of the crop. They were so nurturing and comforting toward me, extremely professional, made me feel heard, answered all of my questions patiently, made me feel cared for, truly at the top of their profession. Nurses really are some of the most valuable people in society. Thank you, my L&D nurses for being so excellent at your job. And I'm saying this as someone who's not a nurse.

After arriving at the hospital, they had me talk to a person sitting at a computer desk for the admitting process and I was just standing there trying to act composed and not double over in pain while she asked me a bunch of questions like who my child's pediatrician would be, health insurance, etc. I had already filled out all the paperwork for the admission and submitted it months ago but apparently they just asked me everything all over again, so it took longer than I expected. Finally they let us through and I hobbled to L&D with my partner. Most of the staff was in the break room chatting as it was near shift change and there was a Thanksgiving dinner potluck going on.

I was standing there remembering the specific evening I had previously been there fully gowned up in protective equipment, hair cover, fresh scrubs, bunny suit, surgical mask, shoe covers, at bedside for a high-risk delivery. I had been nervous and feeling the pressure to stabilize the two premature little twin girl babies who had just been born and not make any errors while caring for them. Feeling the weight of the pressure of my job, what I signed up to do for a living. It was strange to be back now as a patient during one of the most significant experiences of my life. Labor and Delivery Unit is a place where emotions run high.

They placed me in a temporary room. I get pap smears every 2 years and they've never bothered me, so I didn't expect the cervical exam to be that bad. It felt like the physician jammed several fingers really hard and far up there and pushed and moved them around for a while. The shock of the pain brought tears to my eyes, maybe because I didn't expect it or because the nerves there were extra sensitive during labor.

I was 3 cm dilated and cervix effaced. The physician said, "That's wonderful! Your body has done so much work already to prepare for delivery. Going from 0-5 cm takes the longest time, and then the rest usually happens relatively quickly." They stated that they were going to admit me, let my body progress on its own. I was surprised that they then already started mentioning the use of oxytocin if things weren't progressing fast enough. At this point, the pain of each contraction was lessened, because now that I was safely in the hospital and found out my status, my stress was relieved. The removal of that psychological burden decreased the pain. But I also started to feel worried because they had planted the looming threat of oxytocin, while I strongly preferred not to use oxytocin to augment labor unless I really had to. They then did an EKG on me. This wasn't routine but they ordered it for me due to my history of arrhythmias.

After waiting for a while for them to clear up a room and officially put in the orders to admit me, they moved me to the room where I'd be delivering my baby: L&D Room lucky number 7! The nurse attempted to put an IV line in my left forearm. She felt around my arm and examined it closely for quite a long time, tracing my purple vein with her fingers. I had to clench my fist hard for a long time to make my veins more prominent for her. The needle stick to place the peripheral IV line was more painful than the needle sticks to draw blood. Right after she stuck the needle in my vein, she stated that she hit my valve so it wasn’t going to work on that arm, so she then redid the process over again and stuck the needle in my right arm.

I had eaten the hospital’s Thanksgiving dinner a couple years now whenever working on Thanksgiving Day, and they also serve the Thanksgiving meal (turkey, gravy, mashed potato, stuffing, green beans) Every. Single. Thursday. in our cafeteria. I had acknowledged throughout the past few years that being served the same meal literally several hundreds of times over the years that I’ve worked at this hospital had severely diminished the previous appeal of traditional Thanksgiving dinner for me.

Back in April, when the gynecologist performed my first ultrasound and told me that my due date was on Thanksgiving, I laughed because the universe wanted to ensure that even on maternity leave I’d be cursed with the fate of eating the hospital’s Thanksgiving meal LOL. Throughout my entire pregnancy, I knew that the percentage of babies actually born on their due date is very small, so the chances were supposed to be slim that I’d be in the hospital on Thanksgiving. But of course I’d be cursed and unable to escape that fate haha.

The meal service for patients had just closed at 7pm by the time I was free to order my meal. Furthermore, they had just recently made the change to the hours to close earlier, so recent that some of the nurses didn’t even know about the change yet. So the nurse kindly offered me that free Thanksgiving meal that staff gets; there was an extra one left over in the break room. I only mention this because I find it so humorous that all of the unlikely factors had to line up precisely for me to eat my hospital cafeteria’s Thanksgiving dinner, and they indeed did in my delivery room as my last meal before giving birth. I shared the plate with my partner. I was really hungry at this point because we had kinda rushed out the door to get to the hospital so I hadn't had much to eat at home.

The nurse was really very kind and prepared a plate of food for me, which I shared with my partner, from the nurses' Thanksgiving potluck dinner. I appreciate this gesture so much, because the nurse really didn't have to. I can't remember anything else on the plate now except for two kinds of pancit. The pancit hit the spot and comforted me in my otherwise painful and uncomfortable situation--Filipinos always come through for potlucks bringing the best dishes. She also heated up a can of Campbell's tomato soup for me. She even stuck the potluck food in the microwave and offered to heat it up more if it wasn't warm enough. The nurses catered to me with so much care *tear*

The resident anesthesiologist (also someone I'd talked to in my job before) then came to chat with me to discuss pain control options. I was scarfing food down while we were chatting, because at this point I’d finally been allowed to eat. At one point he had me open my mouth because he had to examine inside my mouth, which I didn’t expect. So I took what felt like an awkwardly long time to finish chewing the ginormous amount of food I’d just stuffed inside while he just waited for me.

During this dinner I was scared of eating much because I knew that I wouldn't be allowed to use the bathroom once I got my epidural, and I was dreading the embarrassment of having a bowel movement during the pushing baby out, so was hoping to avoid that. So it was a bit hard to enjoy that meal while being concerned about that. But I was also ravenous and knew I'd need the calories for labor and delivery.

I then wanted to get one last walk in before the epidural. I roamed the hallway of the L&D unit, going at a snail's pace. Twice during that walk I had to stop in my tracks and lean against the empty hospital bed that was parked in the hallway as excruciating contractions passed over me. I ran into the resident anesthesiologists, who were just about to start eating their Thanksgiving dinner in their workroom. He told me he could place the epidural whenever I wanted because there wasn't much going on; I told him to take his time eating his dinner first. It seemed pretty chill in the L&D at that time, so I was lucky that they weren't tied up.

At about 10:30pm I requested the epidural and the resident anesthesiologist arrived pretty quickly to do the procedure. Both and nurse and he said that most mothers would've already asked for one much earlier in labor than I did, that I'd gone for a long time at the hospital without pain relief. That was a nice compliment, but I bet they say that to every patient, but it also made me feel good somehow that I was able to withstand more suffering than others. The nurse had also stated earlier that I was very stoic and she hadn't been able to tell that I was in pain because I was acting calm and hiding or not visibly reacting to the pain. I've been conditioned this way.

I was nervous about this procedure--what if it fails and they have to poke a needle in me again and redo it? what if I get a CSF leak and then get a terrible headache as a side effect? what if I have an allergic reaction? It didn't help that I knew the provider performing my procedure was still a trainee. it was painful AF feeling the sharp needle puncture my skin and then inserted into the epidural space. I'm shuddering thinking about it. But before that there was also a painful injection to numb the area. I'm totally used to being stabbed by needles but these felt like they were going so deep into a very sensitive space. Then after those punctures there was shooting pain on one side. I'm not sure if any of that is normal. But the resident eventually adjusted some things and then they cleaned up and it was all done.

He did a good job overall with the epidural because it was effective, they didn't have to redo it, and I didn't end up ever getting any post-epidural headache. Very grateful for all of that.

A bit later the nurse came in to insert my catheter. That hurt. So since I felt the pain she said she would wait longer for the epidural to take effect before she tried again. Eventually my legs became numb and then she inserted it without pain.

I had previously thought that my pain tolerance was high--I've gotten stabbed by needles countless times (in my gums, muscles, skin, veins), blood drawn multiple times every year with a significant uptick in the past year due to pregnancy, TB skin tests, pap smears, root canal surgery, wisdom teeth removal, callus sliced off by a physician, incision and physician digging and scraping in my eyeballs, etc. And I never thought that the pain had been bad in the past. So when everything on Thanksgiving day was more painful than what I'd ever experienced before, it made me question myself, like do I actually have low pain tolerance after all? If every woman has gone through this, and everything was so painful for me that day, then surely I must just be weaker. What's wrong with me? There were all these tubes coming out of me everywhere and I was scared to dislodge the IV line or the epidural line.

That night in my hospital bed, I felt at a really low point. I had been poked and prodded over and over in various areas of my body and felt so invaded. I had experienced so much pain and fear that day and me trying to muster up courage for each subsequent procedure all made my spirit feel so broken. The loss of bodily autonomy made me feel sad. I know I wanted to have a child and all of the pain i'd experienced that day was to be expected, so yes it was my decision and i knew what I signed up for. you love your baby and your partner and sacrifice for them, but the sheer amount of suffering that you endure is one-sided. in the moment it can feel like you're trapped, you can't back out or change your mind, and you alone must bear the pain. there is a sense of helplessness and loss of freedom when you know there's no turning back and you can only proceed forward to give birth, and nobody can take any share of the load off of you.

And I write that knowing full well that it makes me appear weak, selfish, incapable of handling pain, cowardly, self-pitying. If I were concerned with how I am perceived, I'd state that the contractions weren't that painful and I handled everything like a champ and it was all easy for me. But I just want to be completely honest when documenting how I was feeling.

Was told my next cervical exam would be about 4-6 hours after my first one, so by the time I was done with all the procedures and had time to sleep, I was due for the exam and kept expecting them to come in to perform the cervical exam. So I wasn't really allowing myself to sleep. didn't sleep well subconsciously expecting them to come in at any minute and wake me up for the exam. Kept thinking I would attempt to sleep after the exam was done so I could get an uninterrupted stretch of sleep.

When I woke up on Thanksgiving Day, that morning I noticed more frequent and regular contractions compared to the previous evening. I walked to the supermarket and realized I had to walk very slowly due to the pain from the contractions. But I think if I remember correctly, I was at the self check-out when I had my first contraction in which the pain stopped me in my tracks. I bent over and grimaced and couldn't focus on anything else. I had to wait for the contraction to pass before I could continue self check-out.

Later on, I was eating lunch by myself at the pool. Two strangers also were sitting by pool near me, and what made me realize that this was an unusual pain was that I was scowling and I couldn't help it. And I remember thinking to myself, "They're probably wondering what the heck is wrong with me with my resting bitch face." I genuinely couldn't stop myself from wincing in pain. And the other sign that made me realize this pain was very unusual was that I decided to get up and leave the pool early despite having originally planned to be out there for much longer. It was very uncharacteristic of me, so I could sense that I was uncomfortable enough to need to get inside and lie down or rest properly. I started to think, "Ok, maybe things are getting serious."

Starting at 11:53am my contractions were consistently about every 10 min apart and each lasted for about 1 min long. For 1.5 hours of this, the pain was low intensity--enough to make me feel uncomfortable that I had to leave the pool to lie down inside, but certainly I could handle this pain pretty well.

I tried to nap. I had been told that I was supposed to try to get in some naps when I went into labor to rest up before crunch time. I hadn't slept well the night before and had been planning on napping, but this afternoon attempt to nap on Thanksgiving was the first time I wasn't able to sleep through contractions. I'd been able to fall asleep through the contractions on Wednesday night, and I realized with this attempt to nap that sadly I wouldn't be able to fall asleep through the pain.

My partner went to take an afternoon nap. He expressed that he was extremely tired from working long hours in recent weeks.

At 1:33pm the contraction pain suddenly became really severe. They each lasted over a minute, some as long as one and a half minutes. They were now EXCRUCIATING, genuinely the most pain I'd ever felt in my entire life. I'd often been asked throughout my life to rank my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. I was certain during those contractions that some were undeniably 9 out of 10 and some 8 out of 10 pain, and my rankings had never been close to this high before.

Throughout the previous weeks, I had been wondering wtf a contraction even feels like. Wondering whether I'd missed it, mistaken it for gas pains or stomach cramps, did that faint tightening that I felt count as a contraction? Lemme tell ya, when a labor contraction happens, you KNOW. The intensity of real contractions was like nothing I'd ever felt before. A contraction feels like your uterus is being squeezed and wrung very tightly. Like someone's trying to intensely crush it or rip that shit out. I felt it in my entire abdomen.

I was lying in bed, dreading the onset of each new contraction. Knowing that it was going to happen over and over again. The same pattern where you feel it coming on, then the intensity and pain build up to a peak. I tried to hard to relax and breathe through each one, but for a while at first I had a tendency to clench and tense up--I was probably resisting the contraction, which made the pain worse.

At 2:55pm the contractions started to be about 5 minutes apart, each lasting more than 1 minute long. I was supposed to go to the hospital once that pattern lasted for an hour.

I was already lying down in bed and trying to figure out what damn position would be less painful because lying down on my side WAS NOT IT. And being very pregnant I wasn't able to lie on my back. At one point, I tried kneeling and leaning forward against the couch. I tried pacing around my apartment--that actually seemed to help. Somehow, walking helped me take focus a bit off the pain compared to lying in bed.

So an hour passed, and I was wondering if I should've gone to the hospital according to their instructions. But I was looking at my contraction timer record, and some of the contractions were 5m 21s apart, 6m apart, 5m 34s apart, 5m 26s apart. I thought, maybe these didn't count since they weren't strictly 5 minutes or fewer minutes apart.

My partner was fast asleep, and he had mentioned how he was so tired, so I didn't want to wake him up until the last possible minute. I wanted him to be able to sleep as long as possible. So I kept debating at what point I should wake him up to go the hospital or try to hold out longer at home so he could stay asleep.

At 4:36pm the contractions then started to come every 2 to 3 minutes. But then, this set was lower intensity and each contraction not quite a full minute long. So this also made me question whether this counted as part of the pattern that would warrant going to the hospital.

Not long after, the contractions then went back to being about 5 min apart and extremely severe pain. I was very confused about the instructions to go to the hospital, because with my course of contractions I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to start the 1 hour timer back at hour 0 now and disregard everything that had happened earlier. I had been feeling the every 5 minutes excruciating contractions for 2 hours already, except there were some variations during that time. It was stressful trying to decide when to go to the hospital. For some reason I had the mindset that I was going to try to tolerate labor as long as possible at home. But it also makes sense to go in at a certain point to at least find out how dilated you are, then the worst they can do is send you back home, but at least you then have a better ability to gauge how far along you are.

I was debilitated from the afternoon of severe pain and got to a point when I knew I needed to get to the hospital and an epidural. I felt like experiencing that for who knows how many more hours would break me.

At around 5:10pm I woke up my partner and told him it was time to go to the hospital. I started to get ready and packed last-minute items into my hospital bag.

At 5:33pm I called the Labor and Delivery unit and told them what I was experiencing, and they advised me to go to the hospital.

I was kind of excited because everything had ramped up more quickly than I had expected, and the moment that I had been waiting for for so long was actually happening. I can't remember if I felt scared or nervous--I don't remember feeling so, but I imagine it would be expected to feel those emotions. Conversely, I remember feeling pretty prepared and level-headed and focusing on getting through each contraction, ready to take on what lay ahead. Maybe I'm misremembering, maybe the pain was too dominant to feel other emotions.

The last weeks of pregnancy were full of contradictions. Each passing day I simultaneously really wanted and did not want baby to arrive. I was off from work on mat leave and almost 4 whole weeks had passed waiting around for the big moment, and I hadn't been feeling anything that resembled contractions. Day in and day out, felt nothing different than before. And everyday I'd wake up and feel disappointed that I hadn't gone into labor overnight (as I had read that people have a greater tendency to go into labor overnight rather than during the day). The biggest reason for the disappointment was the scheduled induction for Black Friday that I really really didn't want; I preferred to spontaneously go into labor before the scheduled induction. But also when you're waiting around every day, you kind of want to see progress, something to happen, or maybe just want to get it over with because there's anxiety and fear surrounding labor/delivery. The contradictory part was that I also did not want the baby to arrive yet; I was savoring prenatal life. I'd wake up like 3 times in the middle of the night to pee, and in my half-asleep state at 3am I would pray, "Please don't go into labor now because I want to crawl back into bed and ktfo instead of rushing to the hospital right now." There were moments in the middle of the night when my sleep greed overwhelmed me and I wanted nothing but to drift off into my slumber once more. And in general I absolutely relished that prenatal maternity leave life. So the last weeks of pregnancy were an odd combo of feelings, being simultaneously happy and sad, grateful and impatient, each day that passed with no noticeable progress. Obsessing over the wait for labor symptoms and yet appreciating the luxury of peace and quiet.

Had my last OB clinic appt on Tuesday 11/25, and I was painstakingly trying to decide prior to that whether I would want to get a membrane sweep at the appt. I decided I didn't want one as I wanted to have fewer interventions. I was somewhat losing hope of spontaneous labor when my last clinic appt happened and I still hadn't had contractions by that point.

On Thanksgiving Eve, I woke up and peed and then when I wiped I saw blood. I was half-asleep and I couldn't believe it, so I wiped again and indeed more blood showed up. I was delighted! Bloody show! Finally--a sign, any sign, that my body was preparing for labor!

That day I took my usual daily afternoon solitary walk. But this time, I stopped and stared for a long time at the sunlight streaming through the red, golden, orange trees. The brightness illuminating the field, empty except for autumn leaves littered over it. I took it all in because I had the sense that that was my last walk to end this ritual that I'd developed so far during maternity leave. The daily walk had become a special time for me to slow down and bond with my fetus. I wasn't even trying or intending to, but in my contemplation, I'd naturally have so many positive thoughts and feel my love for my son. I'd rub my belly and know he was safe growing inside my womb. I'd walk by kids and imagine my future with my son. I'd wonder what he would look like. I'd imagine meeting him, holding him, kissing him, and snuggling him. So I made it a point to capture and memorize that moment on that walk I had a feeling would be my last, the golden light blinding my eyes but I didn't want to leave. I knew I'd always treasure mat leave, which was defined by those daily slow strolls where I'd shuffle along and have to pee at literally 3 bathroom stops along my route. Free time and slow pace were extraordinary gifts.

When I returned from my walk, I knew that I should rest that day to reserve my energy for labor, but I couldn't resist my urge to bake a cake. I tried to force myself to rest and NOT bake, but I think some innate impulse in me felt that I needed one last activity for myself before the baby arrived, one last stretch of hours when I was doing something truly for my own leisure.

In the subsequent days in the hospital it occurred to me how the contrast between the last day before I went into labor and the punch to the face of everything since was so stark. The irresistible aroma when I creamed the butter and sugar, cracked an egg into the mixing bowl, splashed some vanilla extract in, plopped in dollops of sour cream. The repetitive action of cutting in butter to the cinnamon-brown sugar-flour mixture that was satisfying because I had the time to do something as mindless and inessential as that, an extravagant act of leisure because I sure as hell didn't need to be eating cake. It defied logic to bake a cake when I had the sense labor was imminent and I'd be in the hospital in the near future. The butter scent permeated the apartment and wafted out into the hallway as the cake baked.

March

After I found out in March that I was pregnant, decided I would start to document this journey in pictures. Seeing the pictures makes me happy because they show and reassure me that baby is growing into the hopefully healthy boy I'll meet soon!

May - 3 months pregnant

July

September

Unable to find a comfortable position. Back still hurts. Nausea has returned the last week or so, but only occasionally. Don't sleep more than 4 hours at a time anymore. Breathing can be difficult when lying down. One of the worst symptoms of pregnancy has been severe itching everywhere, sometimes it's intolerable. My obstetrics providers saw that I had bleeding excoriations everywhere on my body so I got tested for cholestasis of pregnancy.

I will say that I am very lucky that my heartburn has been way more mild than what others describe they experienced. I'm grateful I'm physically able to still walk a decent amount everyday and I can still stand to shower and kneel down to put on my shoes and can get dressed and cook things that don't take too long to prepare.

Maternity leave has been incredible. Not having work has been a surreal reset, and life feels too good to be true to have every day off. What do you mean I can just focus on self-care? It's been revolutionary. My nesting instincts kicked in and I was getting everything ready for baby to arrive, washed all his clothes and blankets, packed my hospital bag, organized all the baby gear, learned how to use my breast pump, stocked up on frozen meals and washed and froze a bunch of grapes to enjoy after birth and have been trying hard to resist eating the grapes lol, filed my claim with the state for benefits and did other paperwork, got a haircut, wrote thank you cards to my dear friends who were so generous as to get us gifts, completed birth plan, and so on and so forth. Though the last few days I've become much lazier and have struggled to be productive.

At my 36-week ultrasound they confirmed the baby was head down. They also confirmed after I got multiple repeat blood draws that we're not concerned for cholestasis of pregnancy. So weeks 36 and 37 passed and I felt good--low-risk after all, how could I be so lucky to have everything go smoothly? I had been VERY scared of labor and delivery, but I learned to cope.

I tell myself to trust that my body knows how to give birth and my baby knows how to be born. It is natural and all of our women ancestors have gone through this before me. My body is encoded with innate instructions on what to do. My baby and I will work together through the process.

So after accepting and mentally preparing, my concern at that point was just trying not to need induction of labor if I don't spontaneously go into labor.

This past Friday night into Saturday morning, I had decreased fetal movements, so I told my partner I needed to go the hospital to get checked out. To make sure baby boy was doing okay. It was 1:50am when we arrived to the unit. Ended up waiting in my hospital bed for 3.5 hours and finally got seen by a physician around 5:30am. Ultimately, fetus seemed healthy, good heartbeat. The MD did an ultrasound and lo and behold, baby's position was now transverse! It is very rare for babies to move out of vertex position this late in the pregnancy.

We finally got home to sleep as the sun was rising, then had to wake up a few hours later to attend an in-person breastfeeding class that I'd already paid in advance for.

But from Saturday onward, I had to learn to accept there could be a significant change in my delivery plan. If baby stayed transverse, it would call for a C-section. I was honestly sad and nervous about the C-section, because I had finally learned to overcome some of my fears about labor and delivery, and I think most women envision a vaginal delivery for their first child if all goes smoothly. It makes me uncomfortable to think about somebody making an incision into my skin, pulling my abdominal muscles apart, then making another incision into my uterus, and all the bleeding that would happen, all while I'm awake. Also, only a very small percentage of babies are transverse/breech, so it's also just scary being a part of that minority.

I made arrangements with my OB clinic to add on an ultrasound at my next OB appointment. At my last OB appointment on Wednesday, they then said that baby boy moved back to being vertex! So I don't need to schedule a C-section for now.

The takeaway from all of this is that I have learned that I need to be open to whatever happens. It's too exhausting to have expectations at this point of what labor will look like for me. In a way these events were helpful because they taught me to expect the unexpected. I'm mentally preparing myself for the dreaded situation of going into labor for many agonizing hours only for things to go downhill at the hospital and then needing an emergent C-section. I had been so lucky to have everything remain low risk and normal and healthy before Friday night, but it was good to have the reminder that all of that can change out of nowhere.

I baked a pumpkin pie for Halloween that ended up tasting great, so I'd like to jot down some notes for future me to follow. I wanted my pie to: 1) have a crispy, buttery crust that was NOT remotely soggy. 2) I also wanted the filling to be neither overcooked nor undercooked, and I wanted it to taste flavorful--sweet enough, spiced enough, pumpkiny enough. 3) Not have any cracks on the filling. Happy to say my pie succeeded in all three of these!

For the pie crust dough, had to keep adding water and dusting with flour to get it moist enough that it wouldn't break but also wouldn't stick to surfaces and the rolling pin. For my 9-inch pie plate, was aiming for 12-inch diameter dough rolled out

When rolling the dough onto the rolling pin, I should have been more gentle. Stuck together so it didn't unfurl when lining the pie plate. I ended up prying dough off with my fingers for one side of the pie crust, while the rest of the pie crust unfolded properly. For the broken side, I used my fingers to patch up the ripped crust together. It looked hella uneven and patchy, but the final baked end result turned out perfectly good. So even when I didn't do the best job lining the plate at first, fixing all the holes and patches with my fingers turned out fine when the pie was ready to eat

After transferring dough to pie plate, pressed dough into the plate, then crimped edges, then pricked the bottom and sides of the crust all over with a fork

4. Placed back in fridge for 30 min to chill the dough

5. Lined dough with parchment paper and filled with uncooked rice. Made sure to press it down to weigh it down all over. Be patient when pouring the rice out; I accidentally spilled some onto the dough instead of the parchment paper, then had to painstakingly pick out rice grains wedged in the dough lol fail

6. My oven runs cold so set it higher than 425 degrees, played around with the oven temperature to try to get 425 degrees but I believe it ended up higher than that. Which I was fine with because I would rather have it hotter and monitor closely than not hot enough

7. At some point into blind baking, the crimped edges of the crust got more golden brown than the rest, so I wrapped foil to cover those parts. I was too lazy be precise, so the foil covered some of the sides of the crust, which ended up not getting as golden brown. So next time I'll cover less of the pie to keep the top sides exposed so they golden up. The picture shows the sides that had been covered with foil that as a result didn't brown up as much. I should've cut the foil smaller to cover only the top edges.

8. Eventually removed the rice weights and continued to blind bake (kept foil on edges) until the entire crust was nice golden brown. It's supposed to be darker than pale brown and should look crisp. Don't be too afraid of over-cooking or burning it. Brown is good and is way better than a pale, soggy, sad crust.

9. Made an egg wash with egg whites, heavy cream, and salt. Brushed a thin layer all over the pie crust, making sure to avoid pooling of the liquid in any spots on the crust. Returned pie to oven for one minute to set the egg

10. Let crust cool completely at room temperature while I prepared the filling

11. For the filling, I went generous on all the spices and it turned out well

12. Started with whole nutmeg and grated it fresh

13. When pie crust was completely cooled, poured filling into crust. Had too much filling and some of the custard accidentally spilled out between the pie crust and pie plate, but it ended up being fine. The foil on edges was removed while baking with filling because I was fine with the edges browning up more at this point.

14. Placed the glass pie plate on a metal baking sheet for the baking process. Easier to take in and out of the oven and serves to catch any spillage that might occur (none did this time though)

15. I pulled pie out of oven when paring knife inserted 1 inch from edge came out clean. Also, jiggling the pie showed that about 1-inch center was still jiggly. You could also use a thermometer to measure the internal temp but I skipped this because was too lazy to wash an additional item

16. Let the pie cool at room temp for 2 hours, then transferred uncovered to fridge for several more hours. Don't want condensation to cause crust to become soggy

17. Made homemade whipped cream as a topping for the pie

18. With the leftover pie filling, I made pumpkin-spiced french toast the next morning

Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite ways to celebrate autumn and feel a little festive as the days get shorter! May you all stay cozy as the dark hours increase! Time to start hunkering down for the winter, but it's not so bad when you treat yourself to some baked goods.

This may come across as self-pity but I'm not trying to garner any sympathy or brag in any way. I really just want to document my experience in an honest way to provide an accurate description of what pregnancy has been like. I've never experienced anything like this before, and this novel experience should get a chapter in my diary. This might be the only time that I'm pregnant in my life, or I might be pregnant once more, and I will forget these symptoms unless I write them down.

I'll start with one of the positive new habits as a result of pregnancy: It got me to eat fruit multiple times every day. In the past, I was usually quite lazy to buy, wash, cut, and eat fruit, so it remained only an occasional activity--maybe three sittings per week. During pregnancy I had strong cravings for fruit, so I made sure to constantly have fruit around. I'd buy all kinds of fruit and enthusiastically wash and eat them. Was eating fruit multiple times every day and it was so satisfying! We are lucky to have access to so many varieties of fruit, so I was buying a diverse array of fruits I don't normally eat, like sugar kiss melon, orange flesh honeydew, figs, jujube, dragon fruit, pluot--and had fun discovering that the figs I had bought weren't ripe and testing out ripening methods and experimenting daily until they were ideal to eat.

1st tri nausea:

The first trimester really felt like it was all about mere survival. I was chronically nauseous for more than 2 months, from Week 5 through Week 14. On my direct flight from Sydney to San Francisco, which was about 15 hours on the plane including after boarding and waiting to take off and deplane, I sat there solely focusing all of my energy on not puking. I didn't watch a single minute of a movie, didn't read a single page of a book, because I had to try so hard to not yack. Just alternated between cradling my face in my hands with eyes squeezed shut and trying to sleep. And getting up to pee frequently and trying to take regular walks up and down the aisles in my thigh-high compression socks. Couldn't tolerate any of the meals they provided so I just subsisted on fruit, pretzels, and ginger ale (and was able to stomach some of the salad) for 15 hours.

We were out at dinner at my friend's bachelorette party, and I was surrounded by lively and polite chatter, and I stared down at my plate of food the entire time in order to avoid eye contact with anyone, because it was taking every bit of strength and energy I had in me to not vomit throughout the dinner. And any distraction from that focus was just too much to bear. This was before I had shared the news of my pregnancy with anyone. I felt like such a party pooper that I was completely avoidant of socializing at that dinner because of the nausea.

Every meal break at work was dreadful. I'd have to force myself to eat my meal within 15 minutes or so because I don't have longer time to eat during my 30-min break. And trying to eat fast really exacerbated my nausea, but I knew I had to shovel the food down, because if I didn't then I'd also feel nausea. Eating caused nausea, not eating caused nausea, make it make sense. Sometimes I'd feel waves of nausea strike after hours of not eating, so I'd have to run to my locker to stuff Belvita in my mouth and cram the food down in a couple minutes so I could get back to work quickly. My memories of feeling sick to my stomach are intense and clear.

Before getting pregnant, I truly could not fathom the idea of having food aversions for weeks, but indeed I found out the aversions were chronic. Anytime anyone would ask me what I wanted to eat for a meal, I'd just respond, NOTHING. Nothing sounds good. Pretty much the only things I actually enjoyed were a bowl of Grape-Nuts cereal with milk and a banana (thank god for this miracle of a food that helped me survive those months), and fruit.

In the midst of Week 14 when my nausea still persisted with every meal even though I had reached second trimester, I really wondered whether I would ever enjoy food again. It felt like it was NEVER going to go away, and I was so tired of it. So many meals where I just picked at my food, forcing myself to consume whatever I could tolerate.

1st tri fatigue:

I felt like I was drugged. I didn't have the energy to do anything around the house. I've been quite active throughout my life and exercising routinely has been a habit. Let me tell you that I did almost zero exercise during the first trimester. I tried a few times and then ended up lying on the floor feeling like I was having feverish and intense nausea. So after that I gave up and stuck to walking.

I used to always force myself to stand for health and fitness; for example, during certain shifts at work I would elect to be on my feet the entire time and not allow myself to sit down even though I have the choice to sit. In Australia I found myself having to sit down whenever I saw a bench like while waiting for the train to arrive or after walking around the Sydney Opera House or while on the ferry. And I didn't share with any of my Australian family that I was pregnant, and I felt ashamed that I was taking a seat, like I felt like I came across as so lazy and out of shape. I normally would never sit until meal times or in a car/transportation or at the end of the day to relax on the couch or bed.

The part that was so difficult to wrap my mind around was that my belly was still small at that point, and I knew the fetus was tiny at that point. So I really couldn't believe my fatigue, like I truly thought it was just some personal psychological weakness, it didn't make sense that I was so disproportionately exhausted to how tiny the fetus was. It totally threw me off guard how tired I was, because I expected to be able to exercise and do chores during first trimester, and the reality turned out to be so different than what I expected.

2nd tri:

I felt so grateful when I was able to enjoy eating again! Feels like a miracle. I also was able to exercise again during second trimester: lifting, swimming, biking, jogging. And I was able to cook and do chores around the house again.

Early in 2nd tri, I forced myself to cut carbs to prepare for my oral glucose tolerance test. I knew that at the end of second tri would be the test to screen for gestational diabetes, and I wanted to prevent gestational diabetes. Oh my goodness. Cutting carbs throughout 2nd trimester was extremely difficult. This experience made me realize just how hard it is to order food out that is low-carb. Nearly everything you'd find if you go out has a high glycemic index food. Pretty much the only thing that would be suitable for me dining out was salads.

So I ended up cooking and preparing my own food at home a LOT in order to eat low-carb meals and snacks.

But lemme tell ya, I was fantasizing about carbs all day errday. Milkshakes, cookies, cake, fried rice, noodles, bread, pizza, I couldn't stop thinking about how badly I wanted these foods. I'd often tell myself, I just need to make it until tomorrow without eating carbs. And then the next day, I'd tell myself the same thing, just need to make it to tomorrow. And when I broke it down to just needing to make it through the one day without eating carbs, it felt a lot more feasible.

Of course, I WAS eating carbs, but I substituted more healthful versions of carbs: brown rice, whole wheat tortillas, whole wheat bread. And whenever I was craving sweets, I tried to savor fruit to get my fix of sweets. And of course, I also allowed myself to have the occasional cheat meal--for example, I went to a bbq that was serving orange creamsicle floats, and I allowed myself to have half a serving of it, and BY GOD THAT WAS THE BEST damn float I've had in my whole life. And that time we got a carrot cake from the bakery as our anniversary cake. And at a few nice restaurants I'd allow myself to have a normal meal like burger or pasta or white bread. I really appreciated the refined carbs I allowed myself to eat.

And I truly felt so much healthier during this experience. I was getting SO much fiber in my diet and I really felt the difference. Overall the whole cutting carbs diet was extremely challenging but also felt very rewarding, because I felt that I was taking control to make disciplined decisions to nourish my body (and baby) with beneficial nutrients and a wholesome diet, and I proved to myself that I actually did have the power and resilience to say no to the carbs that I so craved.

After I took the OGTT and tested negative for gestational diabetes, I went back to eating how I used to in the past... lots of carbs. BUT I've continued to force myself to buy and eat brown rice. I honestly hate brown rice. But you know what? It's truly not so bad. It's good for me. And I do want to continue to limit my carb intake. I've learned from cutting carbs that it's not THAT bad, I feel healthier making more careful decisions about my diet, and that limiting carb intake is very possible and realistic. I should be grateful that now I can eat carbs when I want, but also should treat carbs as exquisite gifts to be relished but also somewhat limited. I refuse whole wheat pasta; some lines I just won't cross.

Everything in moderation.

3rd tri:

Third trimester came around and I continued to feel great! I was quite active, continuing to hike even with decent elevation gain, continuing to cook, continuing dance classes, continuing to do chores and errands and walk a decent amount. So far, I'd get up to pee in the middle of the night about one night every 2-3 nights. Occasionally had acid reflux that would make me averse to eating.

I definitely had a false sense of hope and security that third trimester was going to be swell. And then, all of a sudden, exactly 1 week ago in the middle of week 33, I felt like I got run over by a truck. Last Sunday, I tried to cook but started to have back pain so debilitating that I couldn't even stand in order to cook. So I just sat down to chop vegetables and had to let my sister do the standing and cooking. My sister was visiting from LA last weekend. I just sat in a chair in the kitchen to keep her company while she cooked.

This was the first time I had back pain during pregnancy and it has never left since then. I was trying to figure out whether something triggered it. Last Friday, I cooked, then last Saturday, I took a hip hop class and then walked for 4 miles around Valley Fair and Santana Row. These had been ordinary activities for me during third trimester... but I don't know whether the exertion caused my back pain, whether it could have been avoided.

I had a work shift on Wednesday that required some physical movement instead of just sitting in front of a computer all day, and that shift was excruciating! Like there were times when I seriously questioned whether I would be able to do that shift anymore.

I actually ended up cooking again a couple days ago, and I was able to get through it, but afterward when I sat down to try to enjoy my meal, my back was in so much pain again that I couldn't even enjoy the food. I moved to the couch to have a tennis ball in my back. And handling the pain was taking so much mental effort that I didn't want to eat.

Yesterday I went to the beach. I was in pain and physically so uncomfortable. I felt like I was just merely trying to survive for a few hours enough that I could say the 1+ hr drive there and 1+ hr drive back was worth it but was very eager to get back home to my couch. I was somewhat dismayed that what would have usually been such a pleasant experience for me had turned into that.

It has been tough feeling disabled and for it to have started so suddenly. I want to keep cooking and dancing, but I have to face the reality: those days are officially over. I had felt empowered being capable of maintaining my activities and sense of self, but then starting one week ago, I very abruptly started to feel so incapable. I've never felt like this before, physically unable to do my usual activities of daily living, or at least doing them with major struggles.

Also I have been sleeping so much!

Emotions throughout pregnancy:

Roller-coaster.

I went to Banff National Park last month, which delivered with scenic mountain views and alpine lakes, but my spirit does not feel like it can rest until I make my homecoming journey every summer specifically to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I knew that this year's camping trip would be a no go with my pregnancy, so I booked a cabin instead right on the shores of Lake Tahoe. It is unfortunate that 2025 will be the first no-camping year in many years, but there is no way my pregnant body could be huffing and puffing gathering firewood around the campsite and squatting to wash dishes and pitching a tent at high altitude and trying to stay asleep on my side in a tight sleeping bag on the floor. And also pissing my pants running to pee in the communal toilet in the pitch black night.

I invited my parents to come with me on this trip, and it was their first time visiting me in the Bay Area since one year and five months ago. My parents don't really come up to visit me, but at the same time I also very seldomly make it back to LA. We were on the road by 2pm on a Friday and we didn't arrive to the cabin grounds until after 10pm, having stopped only once for a bathroom break and once for dinner. It's supposed to be only a 4-hr drive but traffic was abysmal. It took longer to drive from the Peninsula to Tahoe than it took my parents to drive from LA to the Peninsula lol. However, my partner had made his homemade hummus for the trip, so we got to snack on it in the car. He makes hummus regularly and the quality and taste are tiers above store-bought hummus, and his hummus is one of my favorite things to eat.

The two days of the trip were starkly different. On Saturday we went to Emerald Bay State Park, which was packed with visitors. There were numerous boats on the bay and lots of them were parked there blasting pop music and EDM. We bought paletas de mango con crema at the gift shop; they were having a buy one get one free deal. One of the highlights from Saturday is that night I found a Battle of the Sexes board game in the cabin closet and I made my partner play trivia with me. We didn't play the board game itself, but I just wanted to quiz each other on the trivia. The trivia questions were hilariously outdated, like the iPod was revolutionary technology at that time.

On Sunday after packing up the cabin, we walked down to the shore of Lake Tahoe. Mountains in the distance towered over the lake in several directions. The lake was a very deep blue, though from a distance parts of it shone aquamarine and seafoam green, and the water so clear and pristine that you could clearly see the sediments at the bottom. Vibrant green trees dotted the shoreline. It's a massive lake so the serenity and beauty stretched out as far as our eyes could see. We had the lake to ourselves, so we sat on a bench in the stillness and quiet for a long time just to enjoy our surroundings. I thought, "Instead of going to Emerald Bay yesterday, I would've rather just spent the entire day here." I would've swum in the lake, lay out in the sun, climbed on piles of rocks at the shore, read in peace, and taken in the quiet. No famous tourist attraction section of the lake here, but spectacular in the fact that this tiny ordinary stretch of lake was NOT famous and thus allowed me take in nature in solitude. Alas, we had to drive back to the Bay Area that day because my partner and I both had work the next day, so it was too late to spend all day there. It's definitely a reason to go back... maybe we will have a little one with us next time.

Of note, I did not jump into an alpine lake this year, so I broke away from my tradition/compulsion. I think because I'm pregnant so already much more uncomfortable than usual, I was less inclined to hike for miles and sit in a car in cold, soaking wet clothes and socks, on top of needing to desperately pee. Whereas usually I would consider the post-swim discomforts worth it for the rejuvenating sensation of jumping into the lake for a chilling swim.

After we left Lake Tahoe, we wanted to do one more hike before leaving the mountains and forest. So we took a hike in Eldorado National Forest. The trail was right in the heart of where the Caldor Fire had burned.

As we started the trail, the shrubs and bushes and low trees were totally overgrown, obstructing a clear path in the trail. I was wearing shorts so my bare legs were brushing past all kinds of leaves and branches sticking out into the trail with every step. The trail had been abandoned so hadn't been maintained. During the entire hike we were the only people in sight even though we could see far in all directions due to the forest being burnt, which cleared the view in all directions. It was eerily quiet. The blackened and charred remains of all the trees that had been burnt down were ominous, as they were evidence of the devastation and death the wildfire caused right on this very land we were treading on. They reminded us how dangerous it can be to be in the middle of the wilderness, how all of this life can be terminated in a matter of minutes.

That adventurous flame in me lit up, and I thought, "YES, I feel alive again!" It started to flicker and I realized I had forgotten about that feeling. That part of me that thrives when I am outdoors and out of my comfort zone because a bear could appear, I could get lost or fall down a cliff if I'm not careful, and there's absolutely nobody else around to help you. But that feeling excites me and are the moments I live for, because when I conquer that challenge and complete the journey (whether it's camping, hiking, climbing a route, etc) safely, I also grow. As someone who lives and works full time in an urban/suburban area, it's also just so rare to have the opportunity to be isolated from the rest of civilization, so I find it very satisfying to finally get away from cars, people, electronic devices, buildings, and instead go back to my organic roots. I also need that sense of adventure and adrenaline.

We eventually got to a long section of trail where we had to walk through bushes that had long branches sticking out onto the trail, and those branches were completely covered in sharp thorns. They were scratching my bare legs up. I was also wearing a very thin material tank top, and the thorns would also sometimes scratch my pregnant belly, which surprisingly hurt more than I expected. This thorny path seemed neverending, but I kept pushing through despite feeling a bit frustrated at this point and wondering whether I should keep onward.

We finally got past all the thorns and arrived in a clearing where there was no longer any vegetation; the ground was covered in large rocks. We could see the top of the crest that we'd have to reach to finally get to the long-awaited vista just on the other side of climbing up all these rocks. It required scrambling up rocks, and it was very slippery and steep.

My mom had been freaking the F out the whole time, and she had reached a point where she refused to go on. The terrain was too uneven for her. She kept demanding that we turn around and leave. She always gets scared whenever we go on a hike and there's nobody else in sight. So my dad and she sat on a rock to wait for us while my partner and I proceeded onward.

I went onward for a while, and I had continued out of sight of my parents at that point. My partner had made it to the top, saw the view, and then turned around to tell me the optimal path up, because there was no clear trail at that point; it was just a scrambling free-for-all. When my partner had gone back down and reached me again, I slowly went onward for a bit. He told me it was just ten more minutes before I reached the top to the reward of the view.

This was a moment I really struggled during the hike. I felt so sad because I had, despite my frustration, pressed onward through the pain of the thorns scratching my bare skin for the unforeseeable future, because I wanted to have some kind of reward for this hike. And then here I had made it to this final section of the trail, only ten minutes from the top. You hear about a lot of hiking accidents where even very experienced hikers end up losing their lives from hiking, which is not even an extreme sport. Part of me was hesitant because I should be prudent in pregnancy--one of the most important safety principles of hiking is to know when to "give up" and turn around. I knew that I needed to assess the risks and have some humility about my abilities.

I knew 100% that if I weren't pregnant, I would have scrambled up those rocks easily and appreciated the reward of the view. But this huge disappointment swelled inside me, because I knew that things were different now in pregnancy. I wanted to finish this hike and see the view and feel the accomplishment and reward of finishing it. It was a hike where there isn't a view the entire way until you reach the very end to see a sweeping vista before you. I felt especially sad because I knew I was CAPABLE of finishing. I wasn't turning around because I was physically incapable of it. I feel like I had worked decently hard to stay active in pregnancy SO THAT at that moment I would still be capable of doing hikes like that in pregnancy. I generally feel determined to finish a hike that I started and to press through fatigue and discomfort. Yet this time I had to make the hard decision to not attempt the last minutes of the hike, because I knew there was a risk of me tripping or slipping on that rocky terrain, and I didn't want to risk harm to baby. It wouldn't be fair to baby.

It was emotionally difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that I had suffered through that trail and made it so close to the end but was choosing to turn around before the finish. Because I knew there would a risk of losing my footing and slipping, and I didn't want to risk harming baby. I stood on the rocks for a while agonizing over that decision, because I was trying to gauge whether I could make it to the top and climb back down safely--but ultimately decided I should be prudent and not take the risk at all.

Going forward I think I'm also going to stop biking on street with cars during the remainder of the pregnancy, because I would feel guilty if I fell and hurt baby. I'm reconsidering whether I should even do outdoor rock climbing anymore in the future even after pregnancy. Because I have to be realistic that it is a risky sport, and as much as that sport makes me feel so alive and fulfilled, maybe it would be selfish of me to climb, because if I die in an accident then who's going to provide for baby and partner?

Pregnancy is a beautiful experience. Just knowing baby boy and I are connected. He and I have two separate brains but the same body. It's a privilege to nourish him and help him grow. I am so lucky to be able to experience this maternal love. Sometimes I can feel like his head or feet jutting out and protruding more than usual, and I touch those spots on my belly and I feel like I'm caressing him tenderly and I feel even more bonded to him. Brown rice, whole grains, vegetables, fruit, vaccines--I'm trying to put good in me so they can benefit him too.

Pregnancy has passed by so quickly! I mean, first trimester was extremely slow and dragged on for ages. But after that, I feel like in the blink of an eye suddenly I'm 7 months preggo. I'm just really treasuring carrying him inside me and feeling so connected and bonded to him because we are physically united. Also, he's not crying now and I don't have to feed him and he can't be fussy, so I am also embracing this period for that. Also appreciating my sleep while I can.

The problem with this adulting era of mine is that I have a crisis every time i have a day off with free time. ive started so many different projects and i dont have any clear delineation of my priorities, so i have the mental burden of deciding which is going to be "most worth" precious free time every day that i have off.

i started to put together a video edit of my austin trip. i have multiple different books ive started reading for fun. biking. im really behind on jotting down my reflections of food, japan, australia, appe year, and pregnancy; all topics i want to have written down to get off my chest before the new era of motherhood. and last night instead of working on any of this stuff i finally got around to signing up for a cantonese learning site to study cantonese, something that has been on my to-do list for months. so i started all of these projects but i haven't finished them. and it feels like all of these loose strings, which have been untied in perpetuity, will continue to not be wrapped up before baby arrives.

previously, dance every tuesday and saturday was something i committed to, i prioritized it and my schedule had to revolve around dance. throughout most of pregnancy ive been prioritizing life above dance. for example, last night my working hours finally allowed me the opportunity to go to dance, but i attended the neighborhood block party instead. and this past saturday i was planning on going to dance, but then my work asked me on friday night if i could come in on my day off to cover a sick call on saturday, and i said yes. and then i always hate myself if i dont make it to dance, because if i dont commit to dance then i feel like im not disciplined enough and i feel like im supposed to sacrifice for the benefits of dance and im supposed to work for it and that there is value in the commitment and sacrifice. similar to me not exercising as much as i wanted to during pregnancy, there's this feeling of failure to meet the standards i set for myself.

and even writing these tumblr posts feel like a disappointment because theyre very much stream of consciousness and it kind of bothers me that i don't have the time to actually curate my thoughts and i dont even bother to use correct grammar/punctuation. the reason i dont curate my thoughts here is because i really just need to get SOMETHING down, and if i think too carefully about these posts too, then i will NEVER get around to getting my thoughts out on all of the aforementioned topics that i need to just spill off my chest, even if just to process and remember these experiences. but the satisfaction is severely diminished when writing these, the satisfaction and rewards being proportional to the low effort that i put in. because i wish i could put a pretty bow on and neatly wrap up these beautiful, life-altering experiences--but i just dont have the time. so i settle for merely word vomit.

and then there are the things on my to-do lists on days off as well: exercising. reading the stack of books i have on my coffee table on labor and parenting. and the long list of parenting-related tasks such as buying baby gear, signing up for classes, looking into daycare, etc. finally signing up for therapy (seems unlikely to start now). student loans. investing. backing up and clearing out phone photos. jotting down notes on restaurants so i can refer to them in the future. figuring out logistics and planning either trips that i have to take or when friends reach out to me to hang out.

ive just been haphazardly taking a stab at sporadic tasks, like i randomly cleaned out and organized my kitchen pantry recently, and im not sure why i did that over other tasks.

what do i actually want to do today? i want to work out and read fiction outside by the pool. but my thought process is, well if i always just choose what i want to do on a whim, im never going to get the more meaningful and rewarding long-term projects done NOR am i going to get the necessary chores done. a very common indulgent leisure activity for me is crossword puzzle, but that feels like reading fiction, pure entertainment and instant gratification without contributing toward my mountainous debt of to-do's. in order to do crossword puzzles and read, i have to purposely dedicate time to pure entertainment, which im sure is important but i need to figure out when to allow myself to indulge vs work hard and be disciplined.

i feel like i have no sense of direction or purpose, havent seemed to commit to any one project and i dont really know why. there are various issues i need to work through here: 1) not committing to finishing one project before starting a new one 2) can't seem to determine which project takes precedence 3) the serious effort and focus required to work on my creative hobbies (essays, dance, organizing videos into a coherent diary) and learning pursuits im intrinsically motivated to study (cooking and cantonese) are the same as if i were to work on chores. the latter has the more obvious benefits of the relief of crossing things off to-do list, whereas the former's benefits are nebulous and unquantifiable and i'd be taking a risk as to how rewarding they would actually feel 4) i dont have the structured schedule or deadlines in place to take off the mental burden of deciding which to work on. but at the same time, i remember when i did have a strict dance schedule during 2022-2025 i felt burnt out and then a huge sense of relief when i allowed myself more leniency. dance was so rewarding in the past when i had set rehearsals and classes that i couldn't miss, so if i set deadlines for myself with all of my projects, then that could help me actually finish them and have clear priorities in my free time. but i'm worried about those then making my schedule feel overbooked, as opposed to having the freedom to decide on a whim how i want my free time and schedule to look that day

5) maybe this would all be easier if i just abandoned my long-term projects and allowed myself to laze around, maybe i really don't need to create or ambitions or self-improvement. i could just do chores and the comfort of easy, simple entertainment. but then again, i think im the type of person who finds a more meaningful life in my projects

because baby arriving feels sorta imminent, RIP childless life, i feel the need to memorialize this era, post-education-and-training pre-baby, i.e., the years I was adulting without a child. when i finally had disposable income and much more free time than before.

a couple weeks ago, had already made plans to get ramen nagi w/ nicole and amit (visiting from saskatoon) on the weekend. but on tuesday, Nicole messaged me and asked spontaneously if i wanted to go for a walk on wednesday after work, so right after work we walked around my neighborhood and caught up.

that friday evening after work i rushed home to take the caltrain to the giants/dodgers game. my partner had bought us tickets as my birthday present this year. i had been excited leading up to the game and we had so much fun at the game. im sad the dodgers lost by 1 point but it was a suspenseful and high-scoring game. got to see several home runs, including ohtani hitting one into the bay. the game had me on my feet cheering. my partner was actively rooting for the dodgers to lose and celebrating every time the giants scored, so im going to root against his teams from now on lol.

on saturday i drove us an hour away for the purpose of going to this bakery in danville that we love to pick up a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting that we'd ordered as our anniversary celebration cake. it was burning hot out there in the east bay and after walking around old town/downtown for a bit and being drenched in sweat and dehyrated, i really wanted an icy dessert so we got mango bingsu in san ramon before i drove us back home, all the way around the bay to avoid paying the bridge tolls lol sigh.

that evening i went for an hour-long solo bike ride, then on sunday after i got off work got dinner with nicole and amit. then invited them over to our place so they could have some of our carrot cake. the next day on monday i had an appointment with a podiatrist for my foot injury that had been ongoing for months, and she resolved it, thank youuuuu for saving me. had been waiting many weeks to be seen by PCP to look at the foot before that. after that, i went to a maternity and children's thrift store for some shopping because i desperately needed maternity clothes. as someone who dislikes shopping, i 1000% now understand the hype and allure of shopping for one's child. i genuinely felt joy and delight looking at baby clothes/items that i don't usually get when shopping for myself or adults. then afterward got lunch with and hung out with rachael. that saturday, after an hour-long solo bike ride, i went to my apartment's bbq, where i went ham with my maternity appetite and met and chatted with an attending nephrologist and attending rheumatologist and then indulged in a small portion of orange creamsicle float, orange soda with a scoop of vanilla ice cream inside.

and in between these my days have mostly consisted of working, going to doctor appointments, cooking and cleaning, and trying to exercise.

i unexpectedly received 5 days off this week and i found that when given the last-minute surprise of getting five full days off, when i had limitless possibilities with how to spend my newfound free time, i chose to cook. i considered very many options, such as going out to explore new areas in the bay area, reading by the pool and swimming, biking, making plans with friends, etc. but i ended up gravitating toward just wanting to cook, above all. so for the four days so far, ive cooked all of my meals at home except for a single lunch that i got while at the mall. i admit that food has dominated my interests in the past few years. and it's very defining of this adulthood era, and a departure from my past, that given five days off instead of exploring/adventuring/traveling like i would've used to, now i just wanted to stay home and prioritize cooking instead.

overall, i just want to acknowledge that there have been abundant little, good moments in which i find happiness in this era 2022-2025. it's been the small things that i've appreciated, like folding laundry with my partner and realizing how there is much joy in these routine and ordinary moments, or walking to the grocery store on a warm day with a cool breeze. without a doubt, this era has also been defined by work burnout.

for example, i'm currently in the middle of a span of 7 separate weekends in which i work every single consecutive weekend except for 1 weekend. before that weekend off, i had worked a whole month never getting any 2 days off in a row. and this is pretty normal for me, but i'd be lying if i said it didn't cause burnout during these years. BUT at the same time i'm grateful for having a job that has allowed me to feel very comfortable and secure financially, and i treasure being able to support myself independently. that is a blessing too, and i do appreciate my job for granting me the freedom to enjoy comforts when i do get leisure time (aside from also enjoying the work itself). although i also will say the sources that bring me the most happiness are actually free.

I had round-trip flights booked to Vietnam for April and a visa approved to travel there. My lifelong dream of traveling to the motherland, finally was going to become a reality.

In March, we stumbled upon an opened box with two fancy pregnancy tests inside that somebody left in the mail room with a note, "Don't need this anymore." Presumably the person had tested positive on their first test so gave away the remaining two tests. It was such a coincidence to stumble upon pregnancy tests that seemed to have had a positive result for its previous owner. The only reason I tested myself was because pregnant women are advised against traveling to Vietnam. I was really truly expecting a negative result. Was just testing as a formality, so that I could confirm I was clear to visit Vietnam. As I was going about my morning waiting for the test to result, I wasn't even nervous, as I felt so assured of a negative result.

My timer rang. I casually glanced over at the test. Pregnant. And that was the first positive pregnancy test I've ever had. I was so shocked. I couldn't believe it.

The first day was very emotional, facing the reality that my entire life was going to change drastically, and it was permanent, my fate was sealed. The news hits you like a train and you sense acutely that it's the end of an era. Even though I was grateful and happy to be pregnant, and I had really wanted to start a family, on the first day I discovered the news I also found myself mourning the end of my old identity and lifestyle. I cancelled the trip to Vietnam. I had three more dance shows planned for that spring that I could no longer perform in. I was scared of growing a gigantic belly and pushing a watermelon-sized being through my vagina. But that initial shock lasted only one day and was soon after replaced with gratitude.

I have been gifted one of the greatest blessings to date: A baby is growing inside of me! I'm in my 19th week of pregnancy now, and I'm having a boy. I've experienced so many moments of joy in my pregnancy so far.

The first ultrasound when he was just a speck on the image, and the gynecologist said that he had cardiac activity and had implanted into the uterus and everything looked normal. I felt a huge surge of joy and relief. Because you're constantly aware of the risks that things could go wrong, baby might not survive.

After patiently awaiting the 12-week ultrasound, nearing the end of making it through the first trimester, which felt like it dragged on forever, found out baby was developing as expected. Again, a huge surge of joy and relief.

I feel extremely lucky to have gotten pregnant and to know that fetus seems to be healthy as far as we can know. His heart is beating, he's moving around, he's growing and an appropriate size. I know how commonly babies don't make it, so for us to have evaded tragedy so far is an incredible gift. And I'm lucky that the child's father has supported me so much: in the first trimester, he cooked all of our dinners, washed nearly all the dishes, did all of my laundry, prepared lots of fruit for me, and patiently tolerated my daily complaints about my pregnancy symptoms. The first trimester was all about mere survival, and I wouldn't have been able to survive without him.

The NYT just dropped the final 20 movies of their list tonight.

It made me really yearn for the old days when I'd regularly rent DVDs and watch a film many weekends throughout high school and college. It was a ritual for me to watch movies alone at home in high school and I savored it. I'd sit there after the movie and mull it over and appreciate it... which I mention only because the concept sounds novel to me now. That I'd so often dedicate an entire evening solely for entertainment through film and that it would be purely for enjoyment, not to check it off a list or feel accomplished or productive or like I was improving myself in any way. I would select whatever movie I genuinely wanted to see at the DVD store, watch it, often alone, and that would be the end of it.

No tracking a hike on an app, no writing a book review, no ranking a restaurant, no scrobbling my music--all which I do to help myself remember things for the future. Not for clout, but just to keep track of things for me to refer to and process what I consumed. But tracking, nonetheless. The compulsion to remember and to document. Didn't exist back then.

I stopped my ritual of watching movies after college, and I noticed that extremely few of the movies I watched on this NYT list were seen in the past 9-10 years. The main reason I stopped was because I rarely allow myself to dedicate an entire evening to quiet leisure now.

My leisure in the past ten years has usually been spent meeting up with friends, traveling, going out to shows--all in the name of "making memories" or being productive by putting effort into friendships. Also because I've spent about 50% of the weekends of the past ten years working. People who get weekends off live twice as many weekends in their lives than me. So when I do get a rare weekend off that doesn't need to be spent doing errands, I feel pressure to go out and "live life and see the world," which has come at the expense of the quiet, mundane leisure of staying in and watching a movie or reading a book.

I'm totally lamenting a first world problem here. Woe is me, I can't stay in and read a book or watch a movie because I spend too much time going out.

It IS a genuine weakness though that I've lost my ability to dedicate evenings to watching movies at home. Losing interest in things that you once found enjoyable should be concerning. I stopped movies because I lost sight of something that I feel is probably integral to happiness.